Wild Invitation

plates that she saw him watching Toby and Marlee. Marlee was currently giggling with the pup who’d come home with Walker, while the boys chatted to Lucy about the effectiveness of a twist in a recent movie. All the children were clearly in good spirits, but there was something in Walker’s eyes, the same shadow of pain she’d seen the day of their mating, as Toby spun Marlee. She
knew
in that moment that there were gaps in her knowledge of what had taken place in his life immediately before his defection.
    “Walker?” She touched her fingers to his thigh. “Sweetheart, what is it?”
    He closed his hand over hers. “Sometimes, I see Marlee laugh,” he said in a rough tone so low, it reached her ears alone,“and I remember a time when my daughter didn’t understand what it was to be happy. Only what it was to be hurt.” His gaze shifted to a grinning Toby, the memories a quiet ache in his voice as he spoke. “And Toby, he was in so much pain after Kristine’s suicide, I was terrified we’d lose him, too, my sister’s cherished baby boy.”
    The poignant sadness of his words wrenched at her. Tangling their fingers together, she “spoke” to him through the visceral connection of the mating bond, showering him in her love, in the joy she felt at being his mate, in the cheerful contentment her wolf sensed in the children. His gaze sharpened, the shadows fading to be replaced by a deep happiness that made her entire body sing.
    And she knew she wouldn’t ask him about the shadows, not tonight. No, she would love him, counteract any lingering whispers of sadness with affection, pleasure, and touch. He would tell her when he was ready—she had faith in the trust that linked them to one another, was no longer afraid she’d never know the heart of this incredible man who was her own.
    Perhaps it would take a little more time, a little more patience…but they had a lifetime.
    •   •   •
    WALKER woke around midnight, Lara curled up against him, and he realized he couldn’t imagine ever again spending the night without her at his side. Even the idea of it caused an agony of pain inside his chest. It was a startling sensation for a man who had always come to a cold bed, believed himself wholly self-sufficient, but one he had no will to fight. He wanted a forever tinged with the warmth of her against his skin, her hand on his heart, her curls tickling the bottom of his jaw.
    Shifting with care so he could look down at her sleeping face, he ran his finger along the delicate shell of her ear. His mate was so lovely, and so gentle. So very
good
. That was what made her a healer. She might be a SnowDancer, but should he bring her the broken body of a Psy Councilor, she’d do her best to heal the enemy, regardless of the fact that enemy might one day strike her dead.
    That was who she was.
    It was also why she needed him. Because Walker wasn’tthat good. He’d do whatever it took to protect her from harm, spill blood without blinking. He knew Lara saw that ability to kill in him, understood his moral compass wasn’t like her own, but she loved him just the same.
    He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, deserve this life where he was so passionately loved that it was an incandescent glow against his heart, but he knew he’d fight to the death to hold on to her.
Lara was his.

Chapter 8
    QUIETLY MOVING ASIDE a curl that was tickling her in her sleep, he felt his lips curve when she wrinkled up her nose before falling asleep again. It was something she did every time he cleared away a curl—and he loved that he knew that. As he knew that if he ran a finger down her throat, she’d sigh and turn into the touch, her hand flexing on his skin. It made his entire body tighten, his flesh hungry for her though he’d shared skin privileges passionate and exquisite with her a mere two hours ago.
    Shifting his focus, he played with the thin strap on her left shoulder, his callused fingertip scraping against her skin. He didn’t pull back—Lara had made it clear she loved his hands. Instead, he smoothed the strap down her arm and leaned over to press his lips to the silky hot skin he’d bared, the taste of her an addiction he intended to indulge in for the rest of his life.
    Making a sleepy sound, she tunneled one hand into his hair, holding him to her as he slid his own hand up over her thigh and to her hip, pushing up the satiny fabric of her short nightgown at the same time. He’d experienced