The Psy-Changeling Series Books 6-10 (Psy-Changeling, #6-10)

“Yep.” She dropped her head to his chest and rubbed her face against him. He knew what she was doing—rolling in his scent. He wanted to do the same. Preferably with her all long, lean, and naked below him.

They stood there for several minutes, getting themselves under some sort of control. At long last, Mercy glanced at her watch. “One minute to time of detonation if the tip was legit.”

“I hope it wasn’t.” Because if it was, then things were going to get ugly.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know about internal Alliance politics,” Riley said, “but I don’t like the way they use up their people like they’re nothing.”

Mercy nodded. “And if they kill—Oh, my God!”

Riley followed her gaze skyward to see something plummeting in what looked like an uncontrolled dive. It was too big to be a normal bird. “Hell.” He looked around for something to cushion the blow, but the entire area was old-fashioned concrete and wood. “Flare your wings,” he said to the falling bird between gritted teeth. “Slow it.”

“Come on, come on.” Mercy rose on tiptoe, as if she could reach up and catch the other changeling.

Three seconds before impact, it was as if the falling one heard them. His wings spread, though one looked strange . . . broken, Riley realized. It slowed his descent from killing to crippling. The changeling also managed to shift his trajectory so he slammed into a pile of old wood instead of the concrete, but he came down hard, a falcon in full animal form.

They were both running before he hit, heading back toward the building. Riley hated that his mate was going into danger, but his wolf respected her strength. This was who she was, and she was perfect. The falcon lay as if dead, but when Mercy put her hand on its body, she nodded. “Alive.”

Riley gauged the bird’s weight. “Big son of a bitch.” Carrying him in animal form would be awkward, but if he was this big as a bird, he was likely bigger as a human. Bird changelings did seriously weird things with their weight when they shifted, but in general, their animal form was smaller. In the end, it took both of them.

He slid his hands under the falcon’s back half, while Mercy took the front. “Ready?”

“Go.” They headed away from the scene, knowing they only had seconds.

But they didn’t even have that. They smelled the ignition at the same moment. Riley looked at Mercy. “Shift!” Their animal bodies were lower to the ground, would take the impact better.

Laying down their burden even as they shifted, they covered the injured changeling with their animal forms as the world turned to fire around them.





The wolf’s howl lifted above the city, mournful, sad, so desperately sad that everyone who heard it felt their heart tremble in echoed grief. Running from the Palace of Fine Arts at a speed that made the humans in his way gasp and wonder if they’d really seen what they thought they had, Hawke followed the sound to a patch of concrete not far from a collapsed building. Dust and smoke clogged the air, but he didn’t need to see to find them.

A large gray wolf stood in front of an unconscious leopard. The wolf was licking at her muzzle, patting her face with his paw, trying to nudge her to wakefulness. But the leopard lay still, so still that it was almost as if she wasn’t breathing.

A falcon lay a little to the left. It was alive. Good enough. Hawke turned back to those who were his own and knelt down beside them. The wolf didn’t turn to look at him, all its attention focused on the fallen leopard. When Hawke went to check the leopard for injuries, he moved slowly, ensuring the wolf knew he didn’t intend to do harm. Even so, the wolf stood ready to strike, those amber eyes watching Hawke’s every move.

That was when Hawke noticed the wolf’s left back leg was broken. He didn’t tell the male to sit. Instead, he focused on finding the leopard’s injuries. The most dangerous one was obvious the instant he looked at the downed feline’s side. A massive gash split the black and gold of her soot-covered fur, probably caused by flying debris.

Hawke swore and pulled off his T-shirt to stop the blood flow. He could’ve helped the wolf, but sharing strength with a leopard was beyond his abilities. It agitated the alpha wolf inside him—this leopard, this woman, was Pack. He had to help her. “Hold on, Mercy,” he murmured, shoving a hand into his pocket to close around his cell phone.

It proved unnecessary.

Lucas ran out of the smoky haze that very instant, followed by Tamsyn. Behind Tammy and Luc, he saw two other falcons land and shift. In normal circumstances, they’d be dead for having invaded another predator’s territory, but Hawke knew they’d likely been coming in early for the meeting at the Glade.

“Lara had to stay at the hospital,” Tammy said in a quick-fire report. “One of your young men is having a bad reaction to the tranquilizer they used.” A glance at the wolf who stood in silent watch. “Can you take care of Riley?”