Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3) - Nalini Singh Page 0,3

went to explore the possibility. That he still couldn’t scent even a hint of her told him his search was apt to be futile, because as far as he was aware, no one had yet discovered a way to cloak their scent from changeling noses. The closest people had come was to soak themselves in a scent that echoed their surroundings, but rain and wet was too subtle a scent to be counterfeited.

Far more likely was interference by the raging wind, the scents ripped away before he could catch them. Not that it applied to the cracked rock—this close, there was no way he’d have missed anyone.

The gap in the stone was barely large enough for his body, even though he turned himself sideways. He knew before he entered that there was no living creature directly beyond. The only smells he’d caught had been of cold and dirt.

Cold had a scent; any wolf could tell you that.

Snow cold was different from dirt cold. And dirt cold was different from night cold.

Grumbling silently in disgust when a lump of snow fell on his face from some ledge it had been hiding on, he wiped it off before managing to squeeze through the narrow opening. His eyes adjusted quickly, his night vision kicking in. The space inside the cracked stone was nothing much; if he tried to spread out his arms, he’d have to stop with his elbows bent at ninety-degree angles. The area wasn’t much deeper, either . . . but there, in the ground.

What the hell?

Alexei crouched down to stare at a depression in the dirt that was oddly square. Water dripped from his body and hair to darken the dirt. No way that was a natural shape, not unless nature had begun walking around with a tape measure and a slide rule.

Taking care not to make sounds that would carry, he began to push the dirt away using his claws. It was hard, compacted. As if it hadn’t been disturbed in years. No question now—there had to be a teleporter involved in this somewhere.

His claws scraped against what felt like iron.

Slowing down, he worked with grim focus until he uncovered what he’d expected: a trapdoor. It was bolted down securely from the outside, the lock twisted in a way that had to have taken telekinesis. Nothing and no one would ever again open that lock. Rust crawled over it, as it did the solid metal hinges on the other end and the thick strips of iron that formed the body of the trapdoor.

The thing was old, possibly old enough to be from the time that had left SnowDancer badly wounded, many of its strongest lost.

Grief, rising and falling, rising and falling. Piercing his heart.

He shook his head to clear it of the empath’s overwhelming pain, his wolf snarling inside his chest. Strands of hair fell across his forehead to drip water down his face. He shoved them roughly back. Despite his rage at finding a living being trapped in a fucking hole in the ground, he didn’t immediately begin to hunt for a way to open the trapdoor. Instead, he sliced his claws back in and took out his satellite-linked phone.

The signal was weak, but his message got through. Should anything happen to Alexei, another wolf would find the grieving empath. And if it was a clever trap to capture a wolf, then his packmates would be warned and armed. He also sent a second message telling SnowDancer not to mobilize until he’d scoped out the situation—no point in more wolves coming out in this ugly weather if there was no lethal threat to the pack.

A return message lit up the screen as he was examining the hinges on the trapdoor: We don’t hear back from you in twenty, we head out.—H.

Putting the phone in a side pocket of his black cargo pants, Alexei focused all his attention on the hinges. They were the weakest point in the entire construction.

And a predatory changeling wolf of Alexei’s size and training was strong.

Far, far stronger than the Psy who’d probably built this thing.

Yeah, it could’ve been a changeling or a human who’d put this trapdoor in place, but he didn’t think so. Such a thing couldn’t be built in so small a space; it had to have been brought in, and no human or changeling could have ever traipsed through wolf territory carrying a trapdoor, or pieces for its construction, without being spotted. Not even at their weakest had SnowDancer let