A single raised eyebrow. “You’ve defected, sweetheart. No use worrying about the big, bad wolf now.”
She was aware of Judd speaking, but her attention never shifted off the man who was a predator, for all that he wore a human skin. When he peeled open and held out a bar of some kind, she took it, aware low energy levels could be dangerous when it came to her ability to keep a handle on the cold fire. “Thank you.”
A faint smile, a strange amusement in those icy eyes. “You’re welcome.”
It was the most polite interaction they’d ever had.
HAWKE spent the morning in a business negotiation—the other party was attempting to get SnowDancer to increase its offer by dangling a bullshit competing bid in front of them, an underhanded tactic, but one Hawke understood. What he had a problem with was the fact the Psy conglomerate thought SnowDancer too stupid to know the difference between a fair if tough price and a scalping.
“I’m sorry,” the Psy negotiator said from the comm screen, her face pristine in its lack of expression. “I’m afraid we can’t accept anything less than a fifteen percent increase.”
“In that case,” Hawke said, having had enough, “I guess this negotiation is over.” Ending the call before she could respond, he glanced over at Jem, who’d sat in on the session from L.A. “Find us another supplier.”
“I’ll have a short list by tonight.” The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “They really think we got to where we are by being dumb shits? You’d think they’d know better by now.”
Hawke shrugged, ignoring the flashing message that said the negotiator was trying to reinitiate contact. “They will, when their shares take a nosedive.” SnowDancer was the largest pack in the country and had the attendant economic power. While Hawke had a preference for dealing with changeling or human companies—for the simple reason that the Councilors had interests in, and control over, so many Psy businesses—Psy were the only option in certain sectors. Except—“That small human start-up, what was it called . . .”
“Aquarius?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Can they supply us?”
Jem took a moment to check her files. “They have the intellectual know how, but it’ll stretch their capacity.” A pause. “Of course, with a contract this big, they’ll be able to afford to expand.”
“You want to talk to them?”
“I’ll set up a face-to-face today.”
Leaving Jem to handle that, Hawke headed out for a hunt in wolf form with some of his senior soldiers. It was something he did on a regular basis, having no desire to be an alpha who didn’t know the wants and needs of his people. More, it was a need within his wolf, to run side by side with those who were his own.
As a result of the hunt, and the ensuing conversation, he didn’t get back to the den until after four. At which point, he showered, dressed in clean clothes, and took one of the SUVs for a drive down to the city.
TIRED from the physical day and devastatingly conscious that Hawke hadn’t sought her out since walking her to her quarters the night before . . . when he’d been reminded once again of what the Psy had taken from him, Sienna sat cross-legged in bed, planning to work on a physics problem. It would keep her mind busy until exhaustion kicked her into dreamless sleep. That was the hope, anyway.
She’d picked up the datapad and was about to bring up the file when there was a knock on her door. Expecting it to be Evie or one of her other friends, she put aside the device and jumped up to open it without bothering about the fact that she was wearing her favorite soft black pajama pants and a faded gray T-shirt.
But it wasn’t Evie at the door.
“What are you doing here?” It came out husky, near soundless.
Ice blue eyes traced the contours of her face. “I had unfinished business.” He brought out a small wrapped box from behind his back. “Here.”
She took the box without a conscious decision to act, stared.
Hawke leaned his arm against the doorjamb. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
It was hard to think with him so close, his voice a deep murmur that turned her doorway into a private alcove, the moment into a slow, potent seduction. “What’s inside?” Her fingers closed around the box, possessive as any predatory changeling.
“If I told you, what would be the surprise?” The heat of him caressed her as he took over her world. She couldn’t see around him, his shoulders too wide, his presence too compelling. “I am, however”—his voice dropping, that wolf-blue gaze focused on her mouth—“willing to trade kisses for the secret.”
The languid comment had her toes curling. Determined not to let him disconcert her any further, she undid the gauzy white ribbon with care and put it on top of the little shelf that stood against the wall beside the door, before beginning to unwrap the silver paper.