Psy & Changelings 11 - Tangle of Need

X.”
    A growl rumbled up from his chest. “I will not allow anyone to hunt you.” It was a vow from the heart of the wolf. “Brenna and Mariska are already working on further fine-tuning our surveillance systems, so we have a better chance of detecting these incursions.” The fact that it was near impossible to stop teleport-capable Tks from going anywhere they wanted meant nothing—no one in SnowDancer was planning to make it easy for those stalking Sienna.
    His mate placed her right hand against his chest. “I’ll speak with them,” she said, “let them know a few elements they can factor into their calculations. Judd will probably be able to provide more guidance.”
    At times, he forgot how Sienna had been brought up, the inhumanity of her childhood. Then she showed this depth of strength, keeping a steely calm through an ugliness that would’ve shoved many back into the darkness, and he remembered that his young mate had lived a lifetime in nineteen years. “Good,” he said, his pride in her a blinding fire. “You also need to talk to Riley about your watch rotations.”
    A guarded alertness. “Why?”
    “So he can make sure your shifts never fall into any kind of a pattern, timing or location wise. We don’t want those watching being able to guess with any hope of accuracy where you’ll be.”
    Her shoulders lost the fine tension that had flowed into her with his earlier words. “Yes, that’s an excellent precaution.”
    Cradling her face with one hand, he said, “I won’t ever clip your wings, baby.” Regardless of how much he hated the fact that she was in danger—because to do so would be to put her back in that cage, and his mate had spent more than enough time locked in the dark.
    “I know you want to protect me,” she whispered, long, slender fingers spreading over his heart. “I can feel your need in every pulse of your blood.”
    “I can’t promise that I won’t check up on you every so often during your shifts,” Hawke admitted, because it would’ve been a lie of monumental proportions to do otherwise, “but every part of me understands who you are.” Not simply his mate, but a dangerous, beautiful woman with her own dreams and desires.
    It would’ve been easier if she’d been someone else, a woman who followed his every dictate and who never put herself in harm’s way. But he didn’t want easier, didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Sienna. Only Sienna.
    She turned her face into his hand. “All right.” A simple acceptance that said she knew, understood … followed by an unexpected smile full of mischief. “Scuttlebutt is, Riley’s been running into Mercy ‘accidentally’ during her shifts since they found out about the pregnancy.”
    Hawke’s wolf was startled out of its anger into a chuckle. “I hope Mercy lives up to her name.”
    Sienna laughed, no fear in her, only a strength that made his wolf want to throw back its head and sing in joy that she was his.

Chapter 35
    RIAZ LINKED IN with Kenji in the conference room usually used for SnowDancer lieutenant meetings. The other man’s hair was now a shocking pink with vivid blue streaks. It was a welcome distraction. “You look like fucking Japanese cotton candy.”
    “How the hell can cotton candy look Japanese?” Kenji shot back before picking up a datapad. “Any new thoughts on the outline agreement since our last call?”
    Knowing they were short on time, Riaz decided to update Kenji on the situation with Sienna later, and brought up the contract on a split screen that would be visible on Kenji’s end, too. “Yeah, one.” He quickly set it out. “You see any problems?”
    Kenji shook his head. “No, that’s a good amendment.” He highlighted a section in the agreement they’d discussed earlier. “I’m still not sure about this.”
    “They won’t consent to a complete strikeout, and it’s not a deal breaker for us,” Riaz said, “but let’s bring it up and see what concessions we can squeeze out of them.”
    “Works for me.”
    One of the other comm screens in the room chimed a five-second countdown as Kenji finished speaking. Clearing away the contract, Riaz was ready when the third screen filled with Emani Berg’s elegant face. Born in a small village along one of Norway’s remote fjords, Emani had skin of a deep, silken shade of brown, and eyes of midnight. Her black hair had been in curls the last time Riaz had seen her—in Venice—butfell sleek and straight around her