Kiss of Snow

His wolf shuddered, relaxed as he bent to touch his forehead to hers. “Understood and accepted.” Mine, he thought, mine. For the first time in his adult life, he had someone who was his—and with whom he could engage in a way he couldn’t with any other member of his beloved pack.

They sat like that for a long time, his wolf peaceful on a level it hadn’t been since he’d picked up the mantle of leadership at fifteen. And that wolf, it wanted her touch, too. He shifted without telling her, heard her gasp. But when the wolf laid its head in her lap and closed its eyes, her fingers clenched, soft and possessive in his fur. Content, he slept.





SIENNA sat stroking the silver-gold pelt of the huge wolf who slept with his head in her lap, her heart filled with a depth of wonder and joy she couldn’t comprehend. The words he’d given her, the power he’d given her . . . she hadn’t expected either.

I love you beyond life. It was a thought sent down the mating bond, and when the wolf seemed to sigh, it was clear some part of him heard her. That bond was so deep, so visceral, she knew there would never be another for either of them if one died. The changelings were right—mating was only once and forever.

A silent tear touched her cheek . . . a tear for Rissa. If Hawke ever wanted to visit the girl who had held his heart as a boy, Sienna wouldn’t stop him. Rissa’s ghost had been laid to rest—what remained were memories that should be cherished and held close. In a way, she thought, Rissa belonged to both of them now, as did her mother, Kristine. Pieces of the past that had shaped them, made them, brought them to this moment.

A moment in which she caressed a wolf who’d held together a broken pack through sheer grit and determination. It wouldn’t be a simple or easy life, she thought, her lips beginning to curve. He’d try to dominate her, of that she had not a single doubt. But he would also love her with every powerful beat of that wild changeling heart.

. . . you have my devotion, your name branded on my soul, my wolf yours to command. A hundred years? It’ll never be enough. I want eternity.

No, not simple or easy.

Vivid and dangerous and extraordinary, that’s the life she’d have with her wolf.

When that wolf raised his head, she smiled. “Hello.”

He shifted, and suddenly, she was being kissed by a naked man who scrambled her brains. Gasping in a breath as he scooped her up in his arms to throw her playfully onto the bed, she laughed. “Is the edge off yet?”

“Ask me again in a month or so.” Then he pounced.

It was a long time later, her skin shimmering with aftershocks of pleasure, that she frowned and said, “What’s your full name?”

Hawke’s wolf flashed in his eyes, the ice blue glittering with the same amusement that had his cheeks creasing. “What brought that on?”

“I refuse to be your mate and be in the dark.” She stroked her palms up over the temptation of his chest, her breasts tingling at the memory of how hard and beautiful he felt pressed up against her. In spite of his earlier words, he’d let her play with his body, stroke the rigid heat of his cock, learn him with her mouth.

Of course, that hadn’t lasted long. When she’d complained, he’d promised to let her use the handcuffs on him next time. Sienna couldn’t wait to hold him to that promise, to taste every muscled inch of him, but first things first. “Tell.”

Leaning down, he nipped at her jaw, a quick, affectionate bite that had her jerking. “No distracting me,” she complained, rubbing her foot over the back of his calf, the hairs on his legs crisp and rough, a sexy caress against her skin. “I want to know.”

His chuckle vibrated through the palms she had on that resilient flesh. “If you’re sure.” Another small bite before he whispered it in her ear.

She blinked. “No.”

He growled, but it was playful. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, you know it is.” Perfect for him. “But then I have to ask about your first name. It doesn’t seem very wolfish—especially considering the age and significance of your last. Was it a family name?”

He shook his head. “My mother had decided on a name if she ever had a boy, long before she met my father, regardless of the fact that Hawke wasn’t any kind of a name for a wolf.” He settled over her, a heavy male blanket. “When they mated, she decided to take her mate’s surname, which was one of the oldest, if not the oldest, in the pack, but she refused to change her mind about her son’s name.”

Sienna heard the echo of deepest love in that statement. “Your father accepted it.”

“He adored her.” A simple answer. “Plus he figured any son of his would soon handle anyone who hassled him over his name—he was right.” The arrogance was pure male wolf.

Charmed, she kissed a line up his neck. “In your mother’s defense,” she said, unable to stop petting him, “it’s a gorgeous, unique name.”

“Just not meant for a wolf.” He bent into her caresses. “Honestly? I like that they both gave me a name.”

She did, too. “What about me?” she asked. “Do I take your last name since we’re mated?”