Tangle of Need

Kaleb considered the radical change. After the decisive defeat Pure Psy had suffered, it made sense for the group to rethink its objectives, but it had to be more than that. Fanatics did not think in a logical fashion, and Pure Psy was a construction of absolute fanaticism, no matter what its adherents told themselves about the “Purity” of their Silence.

More than likely, the Pure Psy membership had decided that anyone who had not supported the group’s attack on the changelings was to be treated as the enemy, including those of their own race. “Thank you, Silver.”

“Sir.” Her roaming presence streaked away, a shooting star.

Kaleb stared out at the gorge on the physical plane, but on the psychic, he was reaching for the DarkMind. What do you hear? What do you see?

The broken, twisted neosentience, created of all the emotions the Psy refused to acknowledge, much less feel, twined around him, a pet seeking affection. Except it was no pet but a nightmare, and Kaleb didn’t understand the concept of affection. Still, he could mimic it enough to calm the DarkMind.

The neosentience showed him minds disrupted, areas of the Net disturbed, but Kaleb had seen that for himself, monitored Subject 8-91 on a continuous basis. Pure Psy, he said, narrowing the search parameters.

The DarkMind had nothing new to show him on the topic.

So, Silver was righter than she knew—Pure Psy was keeping all information about its new plans under a mental and psychic lockdown. That meant its members had to be limiting their communications to telepathy or in-person meetings. Slow … but an excellent safeguard to ensure no one would uncover their objective until it was too late.





Chapter 17


SIENNA LOOKED IN the mirror, startled by the woman who looked back at her.

Everything else new she’d purchased over the past couple of years, she’d acquired on shopping expeditions with friends. But not the dress she wore today. Hauntingly aware that this night when she made a public claim on her wolf, was claimed in turn, would resonate in her soul for the rest of her life, she’d needed it to be a private thing.

She’d picked the design on her own, sourced the emerald green fabric, cut out the pattern using the template, then asked Tarah to sew it for her. The result was breathtaking. Made of a silky material that caressed rather than clung, it had straps that crossed her upper chest before curving around her neck in a halter, and a graceful, flowing skirt that kissed her ankles. Supremely elegant—but for the hidden slit on one side that hit mid-thigh, and appeared only if she moved a certain way.

It made her feel young and sexy, beautiful and graceful, at the same time.

For her feet, she’d chosen not respectable heels, but the very unrespectable thigh-high boots she’d worn the night Hawke had carried her out of Wild. That was the night they’d danced their first dance, a dance she would never forget.

Her hair she’d left down, because her wolf preferred it that way.

That wolf now growled. “Come here so I can take a bite.”

Her thighs clenched. “Behave.” He looked gorgeous in a formal black shirt and pants, his hair and eyes thrown into startling relief, but she had another outfit in mind. “I bought you a present.”

A slow wolfish smile. “I have one for you, too.” Closing the small distance between them, he made her hold out her hand, palm open.

“Oh,” she said in delight, “which one did you get?” The intricate toys he’d given her during their courtship were some of her most cherished keepsakes.

When he put the old-fashioned mechanical toy on her palm, she stopped breathing. It was a tiny representation of an atom, complete with colored ball bearings standing in for neutrons, protons, and on the outside, arranged on arcs of fine wire, electrons. Turning the key on the side made the electrons move, what she’d thought were ball bearings actually finely crafted spheres of glass that sparked with color.

A brilliant, thoughtful, wonderful gift for a physics major.

Eyes burning, she swallowed. “It’s perfect.” It still shook her at times, how he remembered things that mattered to her—even when she didn’t think he was paying attention. The other day, a book had appeared on her reader that she’d only mentioned wanting in passing.

He rubbed his knuckles over her cheek, as if he understood exactly what his care meant to her … then she realized he did. The mating bond connected them on a level that was as primal as the heart of the wolf.

“Why magnesium?” she asked, identifying the atomic number of the light metal.

His hand on her jaw, his mouth on her own. “Because it’s beautifully explosive, just like my X.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I like the way you pet me, too.” The way he made her feel as if her cold fire was a gift, not a curse.

Placing his gift on the vanity when the clockwork mechanism wound down, she reached for the box she’d laid on the seat in front of it. “This is for you.” Nerves knotted her stomach. “If you don’t like it, it’s okay,” she said as he pulled off the ribbon with male impatience and opened the lid to reveal the contents.

Silence.