Hawke's eyes were wintry pale when he glanced over. "Enough dancing, Riley. You think I trailed you and got myself beaten up because I want to shoot the breeze over old times?"
Riley shrugged.
"You and the cat - something happened." It wasn't a question.
Riley blew out a breath. "She won't let me look after her." And after his devastating failure in protecting his sister, he desperately needed to take care of the woman who'd become so much more than just his lover.
"Mercy's not the kind of woman who needs looking after."
"Thanks."
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud."
Riley turned to stare at a grinning Hawke. "How the fuck do you know about that?"
"I have big ears." He flicked an ear currently hidden behind messy strands of thick silver-gold hair.
"Then stop fucking listening." He stared out at the cool black of night in the Sierra, the early stars diamond pinpricks in the sky, the firs pointed silhouettes against a backdrop of mountain and rock. "I don't know if I can accept that."
"Then you'll lose her." Serious words. "She won't accept restrictions."
"Brenna did."
"Brenna humored you for a while because you're her big brother and she adores you. Mercy's probably not in the adoring stage, and even if she was, I can't exactly see her being happy to give up her duties as a sentinel to darn your socks."
"Darn my socks?" Riley shook his head. "Where do you get this stuff?" In spite of the light words, he couldn't stop thinking about the painful intensity of his emotions for Mercy. At first, it had been lust. Bright, sharp, changeling in its wildness. There was nothing wrong with lust - especially when she'd been in lust, too.
But now, other things had invaded, taking a clawhold on his soul - including this gut-wrenching need to protect. Then there was the simple but visceral need to see her, hold her, have her accept him into her world. "I don't want to cage her," he said. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to her." It was a deep-rooted fear, one that twisted around his gut like razor wire.
"Then walk away." Quiet words. "Walk away while you can still do it as friends."
"Too late," he muttered. "She's barely talking to me." He told Hawke what he'd done.
Hawke stared at him. "I thought you were smart, Riley."
"Obviously not."
"She's right," Hawke said. "You two don't have the luxury of acting as if your actions matter only to you. You're critical parts of your packs - what you did today came very close to breaching our agreement to share intel."
"Lucas isn't going to get into a pissing contest with you over that."
"No, he'll leave it to Mercy to sort out. Like I'll leave it to you."
"I can't just treat her as a sentinel now." It was impossible. He saw her as a woman first - an intelligent, beautiful, strong woman.
Hawke thrust a hand through his hair. "Then I need to assign someone else as liaison."
"Do it and I'll rip your throat out."
"Think for a second," Hawke said, tone granite-hard. "I chose you as liaison because I knew you weren't hotheaded. I need someone who isn't going to jeopardize this alliance."
If there was one thing Riley had never been accused of being, it was hotheaded. "I'll work it out with Mercy."
"She really gets to you." Hawke's voice was contemplative. "As the SnowDancer alpha, I want to tell you to back off before things get even more messed up."
Riley waited.
"But as your friend, I say go for it . . . Women who get to you that deep don't come along more than once in a lifetime."