CARESSED BY ICE

Judd woke to the smell of flowers and the sound of a soprano choir. He lay in bed and listened for several minutes as he checked his senses. All the mental and psychic channels were open and running at full strength. Satisfied, he swung his legs over the side and stood to begin going through a stretch routine designed to test every one of his muscle groups. The verdict was clear—he was fully functional.

Stripping off his briefs, he ducked into the tiny shower cubicle to his left. Once clean, he pulled on the pants and sweater he’d shucked before crashing yesterday. His jacket was in the car where he’d left it. When he opened the door and walked out into the hallway at the back of the church, he was struck by the crystal clarity of the choir.

The Psy had lost the ability to produce such tones after Silence, their voices too flat, too dead. But as his race didn’t listen to music, that was considered no loss. Today, Judd knew that to be a lie—it was a loss, a great one. The fact he could understand both that truth and the beauty of what he heard was another warning sign, one he chose to ignore.

Father Perez emerged from another room down the hall. “Ah, you’re awake.” His expression was pensive. “You okay? Looked beat when you came in.”

Judd had managed to make it behind the locked door of the spare room by the slimmest of margins. “I’m fine. Thank you for the bed.” And for asking no questions.

“What are friends for?” Perez smiled. “How about a bite to eat? You’ve been out for”—he glanced at his watch—“close to twenty hours.”

“I’ll get—” He was about to say something else when a sense of urgency suddenly exploded to life in his brain. He had to get back—to Brenna. Before it was too late. “I have to go.” With that, he ran past the priest and out.

The car was waiting in the attached indoor garage, fuel cells having recharged during his recovery. It was tempting to get in and take off without delay, but he spent ten careful minutes checking the car for tracking equipment. The SnowDancers were fanatical about keeping their den a secret—their tech arm had even perfected satellite-deflecting technology before the first spy satellite ever achieved stable orbit.

Judd agreed with their stance. Enemies couldn’t target what they couldn’t see. He’d do nothing to jeopardize the wolves’ safety because that would jeopardize Brenna’s safety. And that was unacceptable.





By the time he parked the car in the underground garage beneath the den, the warning in Judd’s brain had gone critical. He began running full-tilt the second he hit the ground and made it to the Kincaid family quarters in less than a minute.

The door was open.

He entered to find Riley, Andrew, Hawke, and Greg—a wolf Judd knew to be both vicious and bigoted—standing in the living room. Greg was bleeding from several lacerations on his face and Andrew bore a number of cuts on his left forearm.

“Where is she?”

All four men looked up. Andrew bared his teeth. “Get the hell out! Your kind is the reason she’s like this!”

Judd looked at Greg’s face. “What did you do to her?” Ice spread through his veins, bringing the dark heart of him, the part that could kill without compunction, to the surface.

“Nothing!” Greg yelled. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you all. I fucking did nothing to your little princess.”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll clock you myself,” Hawke growled.

Greg raised his hands palms out. “Look, she isn’t part of our regular crowd, but she spent the night hanging with me, Madeline, Quentin, Tilau, and Laine. We threw together some dinner and then chilled at my place. When the others left, she stuck around.”

Judd was focusing very hard in an attempt to keep himself from killing Greg. He’d figured out that Brenna was behind the closed door at Riley’s back. And she was in trouble. Despite the dissonance hammering at him, he could teleport himself across the space without problem. However, his instincts—that word again—told him to wait, that he needed the facts, needed to know what damage Greg had done.

“I thought she wanted to . . . you know.” Greg shrugged. “But she left after an hour of talk and I gave it up.”

“Just like that?” Andrew growled. “You’re not known for your forgiving nature.”

“I’m also not a moron. You and Riley would’ve eaten me alive if I’d done anything.” The admission fit his personality. “And I thought she might be teasing to build up to the main event, like the females sometimes like to do.”

The wolves didn’t interrupt so Judd gathered that to be a truthful assertion. But he did not want to think about the “main event” and what might have taken place in that room less than fifteen feet from him.

“Then,” Greg continued, “I got a call today inviting me here. I wasn’t keen—I mean until she said you two were going to be out for hours.”

“So you hurt her.” Riley moved to grip Greg’s neck in a bruising hold, his tone quiet. Deadly. “What did you do?”