Psy & Changelings 11 - Tangle of Need

all that power—and their alpha’s heart. “What are the chances of another serious Pure Psy attack?” she asked, intrigued on the innermost level by a relationship that appeared so very unbalanced on the outside, and yet one that her wolf sensed was as solid as the stone of the den.
    It was Riaz who answered. “According to Judd’s sources, close to nil. They’ve got worse problems.”
    “Civil war,” Hawke said, shaking his head. “If he’s right, all hell is going to break loose—so we make sure we’re prepared to weather any storms.”
    “The irritation hits?” Riaz asked, and Adria knew he was referring to the sporadic attempts to lay booby traps in den territory.
    “Yeah,” Hawke agreed with a scowl. “Scent trails point to theperpetrators being a number of the Pure Psy survivors who just can’t let it go. They’re disorganized and their traps are laughable. Still, I have all the sentries taking care not to accidentally fall into a hole. A hole for crissakes!”
    Adria’s wolf nodded in disgusted agreement. It really was time to retreat when you had to resort to digging holes and covering them up with leaves in the hope that SnowDancer’s people wouldn’t sniff them out a mile away. “They’ll get tired sooner or later, but it might be an idea to make finding these traps a bit of a joke contest between the sentries.”
    Riaz angled his head toward her in a very wolfish way, even as Hawke’s frustrated expression turned to one of interest.
    “From what I’ve seen,” she said, keeping her eyes resolutely away from the man to her right, “the amount of time they have to waste neutralizing the traps is starting to frustrate the soldiers who patrol the borders, and it’s the kind of thing that can grow into anger. That’s not good for our people, especially coming off the stress of the battle. But if you make it so the sentry with the most sightings gets a prize at the end of each week—”
    “—it becomes a game,” Riaz completed with a thoughtful nod. “That’s very good.”
    Hands behind her back, Adria squeezed the wrist of one hand with the other to keep from snapping back that she didn’t need his endorsement. The response was so far from her usual even-tempered nature that she bit down on the inside of her lip to snap herself out of it, her gaze focused straight ahead. Except the stranger who’d taken over her body couldn’t simply shut up. “Thank you.” Honey sweet. “I’m so glad you approve.”
    A growl tangled up the air currents.
    “Wolves do like a game,” Hawke said, his face suspiciously bland. “I think Drew’s the best person to organize it—I’ll get that in motion.” He glanced at the time projected on the wall. “You two better head out so you can get back before dinner.”
    Walking out of the office with the man whose very scent—dark, of the forest, with an edgy undertone of citrus and a brush of woodsmoke—made her skin itch, she said, “We should get some food.” The drive wouldn’t bequick, plus Mack and his tech hadn’t planned to be up there this long and would be hungry.
    “Should be something in here,” Riaz said, entering the senior soldiers’ break room.
    They worked with honed efficiency to slap together some sandwiches, and were ready to go ten minutes later. Clenching her abdominal muscles as she got into the vehicle with Riaz, Adria told herself to concentrate on the route, the geography, anything but the potent masculine scent of the man in the driver’s seat … because she knew full well why he incited such violence in her.
    RIAZ drove them out of the garage and into the mountains, very aware of the arctic silence from the passenger seat. The more time he spent with Adria, the more he realized how unlike Indigo she was, in spite of the superficial similarity of their looks. One of the reasons he’d always enjoyed the other woman’s company was her up-front nature—Adria, by comparison, was a closed box, with
Do Not Enter
signs pasted on every surface.
    He understood that. Hell, he had his own “no go” zones, but with Adria, it was armor of broken glass that drew blood. “This track,” he said, doing his job because, personality clash or not, he knew his responsibilities, “is the most direct route to the hydro station.”
    “Not according to the map Hawke gave me.” A quick, penetrating glance. “So what’s wrong with the other road?”
    Reining in his wolf when it bared its teeth at what it read as a