Tangle of Need

“I’m Psy. I don’t eat snacks.” It was something she’d once said to Evie, bewildered by the other woman’s overtures of friendship. Evie hadn’t backed off, her stubbornness sweet, gentle—and relentless.

Now, the two of them laughed as she grabbed a bag of potato chips for Evie, as well as a toffee apple for herself. Her additions to the galley had made Hawke shake his head … then bring her a sugar-laden treat every Friday. Biting into the apple with a smile, she dropped into the sofa beside Evie and toed off her boots and socks, propping her feet on the coffee table.

“That’ll rot your teeth,” Evie said, crunching on a potato chip, the lustrous ebony of her hair curling over the shoulders of her white cashmere cardigan.

“Pot. Kettle. Black.”

“God I love salt.” Another crunch. “Since I have no shame, I’m going to ask you what’s it like being mated.”

“Wonderful.” Breathtaking enough that it scared her at times. “It’s the other things that shake me up now and then.”

“Such as?”

Sienna had to finagle toffee from her teeth before she could speak. “Such as knowing I’ve become part of the center of the pack when my natural inclination is to be on the periphery.” She was an X, a cardinal, had been trained to be a covert operative. “I feel so exposed sometimes.” As if everyone was watching her.

Evie got up to grab them bottles of fruit juice. “That’s normal, Sin. Any woman who mates an alpha—forget about mating the alpha of the biggest changeling pack in the country—is going to stress a little at the sudden change in status and responsibility. If you didn’t, you’d be a robot.”

Sienna knew that tone. “You think I need to cut myself some slack.”

“I knew constant sex with Hawke hadn’t rotted your brains.”

Sienna almost choked on the bite of apple in her mouth. Gulping the juice to wash it down, she pointed a finger at Evie. “I should be used to the things that come out of your mouth by now.”

Evie smiled, beatific.

Shaking her head, Sienna said, “Thanks for the advice.” Evie had a way of cutting right to the heart of a matter, and doing so with a kindness that was innate.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Type A Personality.” A gentle nudge followed by a glimpse of open vulnerability. “To be honest, I was a little worried our relationship would change with you being mated. It’s nice to know you still want to talk like we used to.”

“I’ll always need to talk to you, Evie.” Friendship was a cherished gift to Sienna, the one she shared with Evie her first and deepest. “I was scared, too,” she confessed, “that maybe you wouldn’t feel comfortable with me anymore, would censor yourself.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”

A knot Sienna hadn’t even been aware of unraveled in her chest. “Talking of mating—you and Tai?”

“There’s no bond,” Evie said, following Sienna to the galley as she hunted out the ingredients for a salad. “That’s not unusual at our age. But he’s mine.” She began to wash the lettuce. “I’m going to make him get an ‘I belong to Evie’ tattoo.”

Sienna laughed. “Possessive much?”

“Tai’s oblivious”—a satisfied smile—“but some of the older women have been giving him the eye since he filled out.” Evie’s own eyes shifted from gray to a vivid yellow-gold. “Just because I’m submissive doesn’t mean I won’t find creative and nasty ways to make them sorry if they dare come on to my man.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Of course you will. It’s in the best friend code.”

Such an ordinary byplay, but one she couldn’t have imagined having five years ago. Her life had shifted on its axis more than once during that time, but she’d found her footing before and she’d do it again in this, most exciting new chapter in her life.

A pulse along the mating bond, a “kiss” from her wolf, a reminder that no matter where the journey took her, she would never again be alone in the dark.

RIAZ hadn’t warned his mother of his intention to visit, so when he walked into the house midmorning the next day, she not only dropped the plate of cookies she was holding … but burst into tears.

Riaz would’ve been alarmed except that she was cupping his face in her soft hands and kissing his cheeks, speaking two thousand miles an hour in a rapid-fire mix of English and Spanish as she berated him for staying away so long.

Dropping his overnight bag on the otherwise spotlessly clean floor, he enfolded her diminutive form in his arms, the softness she insisted on calling her “padding” and his father called “sexy as hell,” familiar and comforting.

Her arms wrapped around him in return, strong as steel. Chin resting on her hair, he breathed in fragrant spring flowers, sugar, and warmth. It was the scent of kisses on skinned knees, hugs after school, proud touches when he made soldier, a million fragments of memory.

“You’re staying,” she said, drawing back and lifting the edge of her apron to wipe away the remnants of her tears.

He knew an order when he heard it. “Yes, ma’am.”