CARESSED BY ICE

Because using Father Perez’s given name would be the first step on the road to friendship and Judd didn’t want a friend. To do what he did, to be what he was, he had to retain his distance. From those who would be friends and the one woman who might be . . . more. “Did he give you something for me?”


A sigh. “No matter what you’ve done, Judd, judgment is not yours to make.” Perez passed over a data crystal encased in protective plasglass. The crystals cost more than the ubiquitous discs, but they were more secure and held larger amounts of data.

Judd slid it into an inner pants pocket. “Thank you.” He didn’t need the data for tonight’s operation, but he would for the next hit.

“The New Book says God does not wish to punish or harm us. God wishes us to learn and grow, to become better souls through the ages.”

To believe that, he’d have to possess a soul. “What about true evil?” Judd asked, mind awash in memories of a blood-drenched room and a woman with bruises ringing her neck. “What does your book say about that?”

“That good men must fight the evil and that bad men will be judged in death.”

Judd looked at the lone parishioner still kneeling at the altar. She was sobbing, the sound soft and almost apologetic. “Sometimes, evil needs to be judged in the moment, before it kills the good, destroys all light.”

“Yes.” Perez’s eyes went to the woman. “That is why I sit with you.”

“How do you balance the two halves of your self—the priest and the soldier?” The light and the darkness. It was not a question he should’ve asked, not a possibility he should’ve considered, but it was done and now he waited. Because he needed the answer.

“The same way you balance your todays and tomorrows. With hope and forgiveness.” The other man rose. “I must comfort her. Only you can comfort yourself.”

Judd watched Perez walk down the wide aisle and kneel to place his arm around the shoulders of the woman who wept. She turned into his embrace, finding succor. A simple act, but one that Judd was incapable of. He was a naked blade, his purpose—his gift—to kill. As a child, he’d been deemed unfit to live with others and relocated, brought up among the shadows. He had no business being in the SnowDancer den now that the rest of the family was safe, and absolutely no right to do what he’d been doing with Brenna.

And he had been actively doing, allowing her to get closer than he allowed any other being, coming perilously close to breaching Silence. That could not be permitted. Ever. Because while Brenna might see him as a man, the cold, hard truth was that he wasn’t—he was an assassin. Trained. Honed.

And blooded.





Remember, fire melts ice.

Brenna blushed at the memory of Faith’s words and straightened her short black skirt. Teamed with a soft V-neck sweater in red, it was a perfectly acceptable outfit. Except that the sweater caressed her curves and the skirt shaped her bottom. Her hair still looked like hell, but the rest would do.

Drew scowled when she walked through the living room of the family quarters, but let her go without argument, probably guessing she was going to visit one of her girlfriends—especially since she’d deliberately hinted at that earlier. She knew she was procrastinating, but she had no time to bring up the topic of separate quarters right then. At least her brothers were no longer trying to confine her to quarters now that she’d shown she’d take off if they tried.

She got several slow male grins as she walked down the corridor and one outright request for a date. Though she had to refuse, the invitation bolstered her confidence—SnowDancer men could be incredibly charming when they put their minds to it. Too bad I seem to have a fixation on the Man of Ice.

It had taken her all day to work up the courage to follow Faith’s advice. Frankly, part of her remained terrified that she wouldn’t be able to handle anything sexual. It was the first time since the rescue that she’d even contemplated being with a man, the first time the idea hadn’t made her break out in a cold sweat. Santano Enrique had tied her to a bed, kept her naked for his experiments, done other, sickening things . . . things she wanted to erase from her mind.

“Breathe.” Reaching Judd’s door, she unclenched her hands and rubbed them on her skirt before knocking. The memories she crushed into that locked box in her mind. She wasn’t some victim, she thought, blood pounding a harsh drumbeat in her skull, she was an adult wolf in full sensual glory.

“Judd,” she called sotto voce when the door remained closed. No response. Her nose backed up the fact that he was out—his scent was there but not as concentrated as it would have been had he been inside. “Brenna, you idiot.” She wanted to kick herself. All this nerve-wracking preparation and she hadn’t bothered to check if he was in. Now what?