Psy & Changelings 11 - Tangle of Need

his passion-fevered face, his cheekbones slicing against the dusky brown of his skin, his eyes a dangerous, brilliant gold.
    Her wolf lunged toward him.
    But she was human, too. Reining in the wolf with an iron grip, she somehow managed to do up her pants and tug down her pretty, silky black top hand-painted with a single stunning butterfly on the back. The material was thankfully immune to wrinkles, and her hair, it was still in place—Riaz had been so focused on her mouth … and lower.
    Her lips felt swollen, but the apparent result of a few stolen kisses would catch no one’s attention. As for the fact that she was covered in his scent—she’d just been dancing with him. All that went through her mind in a single split second as her sense of reason, of
self
, reawakened with a violent howl, her entire body quivering from the shock of halting an erotic dance that would’ve had her pinned against the tree in another couple of minutes, her bare legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her.
    And that, she thought with grim honesty, was all it would’ve been. Because whatever the cause of the rage she sensed in his kiss, Riaz, tall and strong and blood-loyal to SnowDancer, wasn’t capable of anything else. Not with her. “I’m worth more,” she told him, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “Affection, respect, tenderness, I’m worth all of that, so don’t you dare come near me again until you’re ready to offer it.”

Chapter 19
    RIAZ SHOVED SHAKING hands through his hair as Adria turned and walked away, her hips swaying in unintended provocation beneath the exquisite fit of her pants, the insubstantial silk of her top alternately floating and caressing her body. His hand flexed, the sensory echo of her so warm and responsive a mocking taunt.
    Gritting his teeth against the urge to drag her back, he punched his fist into the tree where he’d almost had her. He knew he could find another lover tonight. It wasn’t simply that people were in a celebratory mood. As Eli had pointed out earlier, he’d been offered a number of invitations since his return from Europe, and not all of those women wanted anything from him other than a good, hot tussle in bed.
    There was just one problem—he didn’t want any other woman. He wanted the violet-eyed soldier who had, completely justifiably, told him to fuck off.
    HIDDEN in the midnight shadows on the periphery of the large clearing, the Ghost watched the SnowDancers dance and laugh and play. Not ten feet from him, a giggling woman pressed her lover to a tree and suckled a kiss to the base of his neck before darting out of reach and back into the crowd. Groaning, the obviously disappointed male adjusted his jeans and followed.
    The Ghost didn’t know why he watched. He’d kept an eye on this region since before the battle with Pure Psy for reasons of his own, haddropped by tonight as part of a routine sweep, and caught the faint sound of music twining through the trees. It had taken him a significant investment of time to find this exact location—he’d never before ventured this deep into the heart of SnowDancer territory, conscious the wolves would go on red alert at the first sign of an intruder.
    Now, taking extreme care
not
to touch any surface that’d hold a scent, he came close enough to see, but not be seen. Sienna Lauren’s hair, he thought, glimpsing her in the arms of a tall man—not the SnowDancer alpha—had darkened considerably. Her height, however, remained much as it had been at fifteen.
    A single scan and he found Judd. Garbed in black, his fellow rebel was standing on the edge of the dance circle, but he wasn’t alone. A small blonde woman, a slice of cake on the plate she held in hand, leaned her back against his chest. One of Judd’s arms was wrapped with familiar ease around her waist as he spoke to a man the Ghost recognized as a SnowDancer lieutenant.
    Kenji Tanaka.
    Forking up a bite of cake, the blonde woman twisted and offered it to Judd. He leaned down to accept, the curve of his lips set in an unmistakable smile. The Ghost had only ever seen Judd in another context, and though intellectually he’d understood the former Arrow had a life beyond the rebellion, seeing it in reality made him take a risk, remain longer. For this, too, he could offer no rational reason. This was not a life he would ever have. It may as well have been an alien wilderness.
    Yet … he continued to watch.
    NOT far in front of Sienna, Mercy