Storm echo, p.27
Storm Echo, page 27
Placing her on the bed, he came down over her, and mmm, she liked this position, too. His weight on her felt so good, and his eyes were right there for her to look into—and see just how far he was gone. Heavy-lidded, pupils dilated, this was not the Ivan Mercant who kept the world at bay.
This was her Ivan.
Palming her breast, he said, “I need to be inside you first.” And then he was using that hand to nudge her thighs apart so he could explore her with his fingers. He dipped one finger inside her, caught his breath, before pulling out his finger in readiness to slide his cock into her.
He took his time, careful with how much of his weight was on her. She could’ve hurried him, but she was too lazy … and she liked how he looked after her. It made her feel cherished and wanted and adored. She stroked and petted his shoulders, dropping kisses where she could reach because she wanted him to feel the same way.
The blunt head of his cock pushed into her.
She sighed, her pleasured flesh quivering around him. She got her lazy body moving enough to take him deeper, her legs spread wide and her knees raised and it was a gorgeous slide of flesh on flesh, heat on heat, their bodies all sweat and pleasure. Once seated inside her to the hilt, the pressure deliciously intense, he shuddered, then palmed her breast again.
It felt like sweet, hot honey in her veins this time around, a slower and deeper ride, the intimacy all the more for how slow they took it. All the kisses, all the touches. All the whispers against each other’s lips as they learned what brought the other pleasure.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, face-to-face, and talked.
When she said, “Tell me about your family,” he spoke about Canto, the anchor who was everyone’s big brother; about Arwen, the empath who couldn’t help looking after every member of his personal tribe; about Silver, the cool-eyed negotiator who was “Ena in training”; about the younger members the family kept protected from the world—and of course, about his powerhouse of a grandmother.
And she thought: He loves them even if he won’t acknowledge it. It made her happy, that he’d had love in his life, whether overt or covert. Love was love and it altered the pathways of the mind and the heart, taught a person that life wasn’t only pain. Even his mother, she thought, had loved him in her own broken way.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he said, “It wasn’t only darkness with my mother. One of my earliest memories is of the two of us sneaking into a playground after nightfall, both of us giggling as we crawled under the chain link. She must’ve been taking Jax for her Silence to be so bad, but she wasn’t showing any external effects at that time.
“That night, she pushed me on the swing and we spun together on a merry-go-round. Later, she spotted me while I climbed from one side of the jungle gym to the other. And afterward, I remember that she had food, that we sat at a picnic table and ate and drank and I went to sleep in a warm bed.”
Soleil’s heart ached for that young woman and her son. “Do you know how she fell into Jax?”
“It was hard to get any real information out of her, and I was so young. I don’t even remember if she ever told me any other last name but Mercant—the only clue I have is a ring she said was a reminder of where she came from, but even Grandmother wasn’t able to trace it to a family in the Net.
“It doesn’t have a real emblem on it, just a kind of a swaying line that doesn’t match up with anything in the Net’s archives. I looked, too, once I was older. My mother wore it always, so I’m certain she didn’t lie about its origins, but I also think she took it for exactly that reason—because it couldn’t be traced back.”
“You don’t wear it?”
“I keep it with me, but it’s—” When he hesitated, as if searching for the right words, she said, “I get it. It’s complicated.” The ring was a symbol of pain as much as it was a piece of memory.
Ivan let her weave her fingers through his hair, let her nuzzle at him.
It was several minutes later that he said, “I remember her saying once that she was born into a family of vipers. Jax was an escape to her. She saw it as rebellion. I saw it as giving up.” No anger in his tone, nothing but old memories.
He traced her facial scar with one gentle finger, the same way she might trace one of his tattoos. Because it was part of the story of her life. “What was it like,” he asked, “having a human mother and a changeling father?”
“My normal,” she whispered. “I used to pounce on her in my ocelot form and she’d squeak, then rub my belly and kiss my face and tell me I was the cutest little kitten ever.” The memory hurt but it was beautiful, too.
“Sometimes, she’d catch me when I was being a really naughty cub and tickle my stomach until I couldn’t stop laughing—I liked the tickling, because she never did it when I wasn’t in the mood and because she’d always be laughing, too, both of us in hysterics when my father found us.
“I can still remember him standing there, looking down at the two of us and shaking his head.” Those had been the best days, days saturated in a kind of forever sunshine in her memories.
“My father sometimes slept in ocelot form, other times in human. I could find either when I woke early and went to jump on them to wake them up.” She smiled at the memory of her mischievous childhood antics. “One thing I remember is that they were always touching when I found them asleep, her hand fisted on his fur or his arms wrapped around her.”
She told him of their road trips and she told him of their final ride together. The car skidding off the road, killing her father on impact, leaving her mother badly injured and bleeding while the pungent smell of fuel filled the air and the storm winds howled outside.
How her mother had told her to get out in case of an explosion, and how she’d tried to help her mother only to feel the loving quicksilver and shining talent of Hinemoa Bijoux’s life slip away. How a passing motorist had found her sitting mute and bloodied and rain-drenched beside the car a long time later.
Ivan stroked her back and held her and she could bear to speak the words.
Another question, another answer. Another glimpse into one another.
So many things she and Ivan talked about as they lay together, DarkRiver and Mercant, Psy and changeling, Lei and her Ivan, and the whole world was perfect for a single fragment of time.
Chapter 42
They told me I was broken. They told me I was flawed.
—Sascha Duncan, cardinal E & defector (2079)
SOLEIL COULD FEEL the tension in Ivan as he walked her back to DarkRiver HQ after she finally ran her errands—which had included some clothes shopping, underwear included. Which of course, she didn’t have on now, since she wasn’t about to slip on intimate clothing without washing it first.
Which meant lots of airflow right up through her dress, to the tender place between her thighs. So tender. She wasn’t the least bit sorry. She’d adored every single instant of what had led to that tenderness. But now their time was over—Ivan wasn’t back to full psychic strength, but she needed to get back to the cubs; it was too soon after her return for her to disappear for an entire day.
Her cat missed them desperately.
She’d made Ivan promise that he wouldn’t set foot on the island without giving her enough time to get back to him, so she could haul him out well before it became dangerous. Never again did she want to see him so motionless and cold, his mind and body in danger of a permanent separation.
It terrified her that he was even going to try again, but as a healer, she understood the drive to help. And she understood that Ivan Mercant was a hero, even though he’d never put it that way; this man wouldn’t ever choose to protect himself at the cost of the lives of others.
She glanced at him on a crashing wave of protective possessiveness. He looked frostily urbane and aloof, her Psy, when she knew he was anything but that with the people he let in. He’d paired the blazer she liked with another black shirt from his wardrobe since she’d shredded his previous one, wore jeans and boots, his hair neatly combed and mirrored sunglasses over his eyes.
He’d hitched her daypack over one shoulder.
Half of her wanted to jump his bones again, while the other half was as tense as a piece of guitar wire. It wasn’t that Ivan had issue with her need to go see the cubs, or even the promise she’d extracted from him. No, what he had an issue with was the fact that he couldn’t drive her back to her territory, his welcome there in serious doubt since their mating bond remained a strange halfway thing. He’d have risked it, but Soleil wasn’t about to—he meant far too much to her.
But when, after another ravenous kiss, she made a move to step inside the HQ, her cat fought her. Hard. Hard enough that she snarled, rebellion and need sparking in every vein and artery.
Cool male fingers closed over her wrist at the same time, and when she whipped back her head to look at him, she saw that Ivan had pulled off his sunglasses to reveal eyes gone a flat black. His fingers tightened, his jaw working, the fabric of his blazer taut across his shoulders. “I’m fighting to release you.” It came out as sharp as a blade.
Her claws already out, she could’ve struck at him, but there would be no point. This wasn’t a one-sided thing. Her cat wasn’t ready to release him, either, the need to hold him a violent compulsion.
A shimmering silver web in her mind, the threads hard and cutting today, ready to form into a cell. The future that Ivan foresaw for himself, his mind encased behind shields so brutal they would savage this man who put his life on the line to save strangers, whose loyalty to his family was absolute … and who would do anything for Soleil.
Ivan Mercant, she understood deep within, had no limits when he loved.
Her cat swiped at the horrific image of the proto-cage, ripping it to shreds as she tugged him closer, until he was close enough that he was able to release her hand. “It’s time to talk to Lucas.”
Eyes yet inky black, Ivan said, “This isn’t normal.” His jaw worked. “My ability … I think it’s wrapped you up in its threads.”
“The holding on is mutual,” she said. “Let’s figure out how to deal with it. Because I refuse to be separated from the cubs or from you.”
They entered the HQ.
The receptionist was a slender young Asian man with a huge smile that faded after he spotted Ivan. “I’ll need to call up.” He’d risen to his feet at their entry, now reached for the comm.
Before he could activate it, however, a familiar figure came down the hallway. The redheaded dominant Soleil had seen on the street—this time with a child in her arms, an auburn-haired toddler in tan shorts and a navy polo-neck tee who was fast asleep on her shoulder, his head turned into her neck and one tiny hand curled up against her chest.
She wore fitted jeans of well-washed blue, with a white tee belted in at the waist, her ankle boots a pop of red, and her hair pulled back into a smooth ponytail. The lithe muscle on her flowed over curves and valleys, her status as a predator obvious to anyone with eyes.
Equally obvious was that she was stunning—the kind of stunning that was a knock to the head that left a man seeing stars. “I’ll handle it, Aaron,” she said with the firm warmth of a dominant who was confident in her power, didn’t need to posture and flex.
The young receptionist stood down—and it was only then that Soleil realized he’d been on alert. Slender he might be, but he was a dominant, probably a fully trained soldier. Of course DarkRiver wouldn’t have someone who could be easily overwhelmed at the front desk.
“Name’s Mercy,” the redhead said. “Sentinel. Aaron here is a junior soldier in charge of a small security team—they’re going to miss him when he moves into the senior ranks next year, but Aaron’s too brilliant to be held back just because of his age. Aaron, you know Ivan Mercant.” Amusement in her eyes. “Soleil is our new healer—she studied under Yariela.”
Flushing at the praise from the sentinel, Aaron raised a hand. “Hi. I’m friends with Duke. He talks all the time about how you were right there on the front lines, how you fought and fought to help people. Said he never knew how much courage a healer could have until he saw you take blow after blow and keep going.”
Soleil had never had much to do with the young soldier, so the knowledge that Duke had remembered her with such honor … it mattered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, “It’s lovely to meet you, Aaron. I’ll have to squeeze Duke extra tight when I see him.”
Aaron smiled, then nodded a hello at Ivan. “I tracked you all over the city. Feel weird about it now. Sorry, man.”
“It was the job,” Ivan said. “No offense taken.”
As Aaron retook his seat, Mercy brushed her fingers over Soleil’s cheek in an unexpectedly gentle welcome. “Here to see Luc?”
When Soleil nodded, Mercy began to lead them upstairs. Despite Mercy’s outward friendliness, Ivan kept up his guard, well aware he was in the presence of one of the deadliest members of DarkRiver. Dominants with cubs to protect were lethal, and per his research, Mercy Smith had already been lethal to begin with.
“I’d introduce you to my little hooligan,” she said, patting the boy’s back, “but he finally zonked out after arguing with me that he didn’t need a nap. You wouldn’t think a baby barely past a year of age could argue, but Ace clearly got his demon genes from me and my brothers.”
A kiss pressed to the top of her son’s head that held unhidden tenderness. The sight made Ivan’s gut clench on memories far less bucolic. His mother had kissed him that way at times, but she’d be slurring her words at the same time, her mind already walking the petals of the crystalline flower.
“He’s adorable,” Soleil whispered from beside him, his healer with her heart made of softness and empathy.
“You offering to babysit?” Wicked feline amusement. “Word of warning—he comes as part of a pack of three. Two boys and one girl. All with a full share of the aforementioned demon genes. Their poor papa had no idea what was coming.”
“Triplets?” The single word from Soleil was a gasp. Then, tilting her head a fraction, she said, “I swear I can smell wolf on both of you. It’s so deep … Oh. The poor papa is a wolf.”
Ivan wasn’t as startled by the news. He knew Mercy Smith was mated to one of the SnowDancer wolves. It was another thread that tied the two packs together. The child in her arms was yet one more link in what was effectively the most powerful alliance of packs in the country.
It was no wonder his grandmother was intrigued by them.
When Ivan leaned forward to open the door to the upstairs area, he got a smiling “Thanks” from Mercy. He didn’t take that as an indication that he’d been accepted by the pack.
The immediate area beyond the door was an open-plan space with a number of workstations. Several were empty at that moment, but a man with hair of shocking white-blond worked at a drafting table, two women stood in front of a whiteboard figuring out what looked to be a complex residential plan, while a couple of other packmates sat at computer stations.
Ivan recognized a number of them from his research.
Each and every one shot Soleil a salute or a smile of welcome.
Her cat’s happiness echoed down their bond. Because she was with her pack. With her family. He waited for a stab of envy or jealousy, for the spider to flex inside its monstrous carapace, but it didn’t come. Because he knew what it was to be alone; not even the darkest part of him begrudged Soleil the bonds of pack.
But where Soleil had received friendly smiles, Ivan got narrow-eyed looks. They weren’t hostile. More confused. Because the cats were sensing a bond that shouldn’t exist, a bond that he had to break if he wanted to keep Soleil safe … except he didn’t think he could let her go. Never again could he let her go.
Fuck.
“Introductions later!” Mercy called out to the room, then turned to Soleil. “Luc has to leave for a site visit in a half hour, so we need to catch him before then.”
Ducking her head inside the open office door at the other end of the room, Mercy said, “Luc, our new healer needs your attention. Oh, and his lordship here has informed me that he, Belle, and Micah want to come over to play with Naya. Doable tomorrow?”
Soleil’s hand clenched on Ivan’s. When he glanced at her, he saw a bewildered kind of wonder in her expression. “What is it?” he murmured under his breath, while Mercy laughed at something Lucas had said, his voice inaudible to Ivan except as a low rumble.
“Not once in all my years,” Soleil whispered, “did I ever see a SkyElm dominant speak so casually to our alpha. As a friend and an equal.” Huge eyes, a shaky smile. “There’s so much I have to learn about my new pack, Ivan.”
Mercy turned back to them before he could respond. “Go on in. I’m heading to the nursery to return the escapee and look in on the other pupcubs.”
“Pupcubs?” Soleil pressed her hands to her cheeks, her shaky smile switching to one of pure delight. “You call the triplets pupcubs? I can’t handle it.”
Chuckling, Mercy stroked her sleeping son’s back. “Come over sometime after you’re settled in. I can’t promise peace, but I can promise that the tiny hooligans will be charming as they lure you into their schemes.”
Then she was gone and they were in Lucas’s office, Ivan closing the door behind them to ensure privacy.
The alpha’s office featured a desk, a large window that could be opened, and shelving that held various items—including framed handprints made in colorful paint. The size of those handprints told her they were from a child. His daughter, the Naya that Mercy had just mentioned.
Lucas himself had moved around to stand in front of his desk. Folding his arms over his T-shirt-clad chest, he leaned back against his desk. Look at him in his black T-shirt and faded blue jeans, and you’d never know that he was the effective CEO of a major construction powerhouse.
“So,” he murmured, panther green eyes going from one to the other, “you two have completed the mating … Or something like it. It’s still off in a way I can’t work out, but the scent bonds are embedded so deep now that no shower will ever wash them off.”
