"Next time that cub puts his hands on you," he said, raising his head after another lingering taste of her skin, "I'll tear out his throat and feed it to him." The words were said in such a reasonable tone that it took her a minute to process their meaning.
Lurching up, she grabbed the front of his T-shirt. "You will not touch any of my friends."
Patient wolf eyes. Deadly wolf eyes.
"Hawke."
He leaned forward and licked the bite mark again.
Her entire body shuddered, her breasts protesting the stiff confines of the corset. "No touching Kit," she whispered, barely able to speak past the dark pressure of a desire so long denied, it threatened to devour her.
His hand closed around her throat. Not a threat. Just the most possessive way a predatory changeling male had of touching a woman outside of sex. "Don't say his name." He brushed his thumb across her pulse.
Closing her hand over his wrist, she said, "You're being unreasonable." The instant the words left her mouth, she realized she wasn't going to get "human" behavior from him tonight. Hawke's wolf had always been close to the surface, and right now, it was in charge. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that both man and wolf had shrugged off any pretensions to civilized behavior.
"I still don't want to go home." It wasn't quite the truth—she'd be delighted to be alone with him. But if she was going to win him, and keep him, he had to understand that he wasn't going to be able to walk all over her. Because he damn well would if he thought he could.
His gaze went watchful, waiting.
"I want to go dancing again."
A slow smile.
"In a club," she added, quite certain rational thought would become a distant memory if he took her into his arms when they were alone, if he put his mouth on her skin, his hands on her body. "There." Breasts flushing at the hot pulse of need in the most intimate part of her, she pointed to a random club. "That one looks popular."
The growl was so low and deep that she felt it with her body first, her skin shimmering in reaction, the stiff points of her nipples rubbing against the corset. Only the discipline she'd learned in the Net kept her from giving in. "Stop trying to intimidate me."
Instead of answering, he returned his attention to the road and began driving. It didn't take her long to realize they were most definitely heading back to den territory. Recognizing she'd lost that round, she forced herself to regroup, to remember that she wasn't dealing with the cool, calculating alpha of SnowDancer at this moment, but with the wildness that lived in his heart.
That didn't mean she was about to surrender. Even if she had no idea what she'd do if he decided to stop stalking her and pounced. "Do you like my top?"
"Is that what it is?"
"Latest style," she assured him, ignoring the silky menace of his response. "Laces up the side, so it's easier to take off."
His hands clenched on the steering wheel as he headed up into the mountains.
"And the boots." She lifted one leg up to the dash, stroked her hand over her thigh. "They make me—"
The car shuddered to a halt near the perimeter of den territory. Hawke was turning to her when he went motionless in a way she recognized. Predatory. Listening. Snapping to alertness, she brought down her leg and swept out with her telepathic senses . . . to find more than a few Psy minds in the vicinity.
"Psy," Hawke said under his breath at the same instant. "Stay in the car." He was gone before she could argue.
Tempting as it was to disobey him, her damn boots would make her a liability. So she gave him a different kind of backup. Keeping him on the periphery of her psychic senses, she expanded her telepathic reach once more. Unsurprisingly, the intruders were shielded. Hawke's mind was even more impenetrable, his natural shields a solid wall. She'd never know if he was hurt or in trouble.
Frustrated, she slid back her door with utmost care.
The night air raised goose bumps over her body, but she brushed aside that minor concern and focused every one of her senses on listening. With all of her senses—psychic and otherwise. The instant she heard even the slightest indication of a fight, she'd blow out every Psy mind in the vicinity.
This was her home. Her man. No one was allowed to fuck with either of them.
IT took Hawke's wolf a bare minute to realize that Sienna was too smart, too dangerous, not to have come up with a plan in case things went balls-up. Shit. Pulling out the sat phone from his pocket, he typed in a short, terse message.
Do not act unless I give the signal. A howl from the wolf could carry for miles in the right conditions. Don't give yourself away. If anyone on the Council learned that she was alive, they'd come after her, no holds barred. Since Hawke had no intention of letting them take her, things would turn brutal fast.
Then don't get hurt.
The return message made him grin despite the tense circumstances. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he made his way with wolf-stealth to the area where he'd scented the intruders. His wolf was angry at the trespass, but its anger was a silent, focused thing, both parts of him conscious of the need to uncover the enemy's agenda. SnowDancer stood in danger of becoming arrogant after their recent successes at foiling the covert operations, but the fact was, the psychic race posed a powerful threat.