Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Soleil was a changeling, too, her world as primal.
Ivan would’ve never fit into her world, either.
Hand fisting on his thigh and a film of ice over his chest, he watched Soleil with quiet focus as she went to stroke the cubs’ fur and steal a cookie from the plate, the children giggling at her attempts at stealth.
Just when he thought she’d forgotten him, she glanced over, a look in her eye that he couldn’t read … but then he felt the swipe of a cat’s claws in his mind. Not painful. Just a … flexing.
A reminder that he was marked.
Ivan stared at her, wondering if he’d tipped over the edge without noticing and was now living in a delusion. Even if he was, he didn’t care. So long as she saw him, saw the ghost who was Ivan Mercant.
Everything Ivan had done since Grandmother brought him home, everything he’d become, he’d done within the boundaries of his family. Not because they’d asked him to—but because those ties were the only solid things in his life. If he wasn’t a Mercant, he was nothing.
Until Soleil, he’d never wanted anything for himself.
He knew that the visceral depth of his need was a sign of increasing volatility. It was hot, unstable. And when Soleil walked toward him, it got hotter, even less stable.
Dangerous, so dangerous.
He was conscious of Nathan moving away to talk to Tamsyn, could still hear the children’s chatter, but it was all background noise. He should’ve stepped back, created space between them. Yet when she lifted a hand, he lowered his head a fraction … and she pushed his hair back from his forehead.
Thief. Thief. Thief.
Ivan ignored the whispers of his conscience. He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to savor what might be the last physical contact he ever had with her … but there was no more time. Moving with an assassin’s grace as the alpha of DarkRiver entered the room, Ivan tried to put Soleil behind him. A small growl before she poked him in the side with her claws, then shifted to stand at his side.
“Luc.” Tamsyn Ryder kissed Lucas on the cheek as she passed him with all four children. “Quick, my cublets. It’s cartoon time.” Her twins scampered on ahead with whoops of joy, one ocelot cub right on their heels, while she carried the smaller cub in her arms. Taking the children out of what might become a danger zone.
An older woman followed Lucas into the room. Her skin was the dark of night and her body small with fine bones, her face a symphony of lines that told the story of a life lived.
A deep tug inside Ivan, a wild sense of knowing. Family, she was family, though he’d never before met her in all his life. She turned at the same moment, saw him, and a look, bright and dazzling, lit up her eyes, her hand rising to her mouth.
Fighting his protective compulsion toward her because it was clear she was safe here, he turned his attention to the biggest predator in the room.
Lucas, however, had another target. Moving to Soleil, he gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger, the contact gentle but firm. “So,” the alpha said, “you came looking for your own.”
“Actually,” Soleil said with a wild courage that made Ivan ready himself to defend her. “I came to kill you. Vengeance for having destroyed the innocent survivors of my pack.” She made a face. “Quite ignoring the fact that I’m a healer and don’t kill people. Idiot.”
Lucas’s grin was unexpected, his cat prowling in his eyes. “You’ll be a welcome part of my pack.”
Soleil’s cat bared its teeth in suspicion. “Just like that?”
“Oh, we’ll run background on you, make sure you’re not some kind of shadow operative, but I gave my word to the survivors of SkyElm that they were welcome in DarkRiver—and I don’t go back on my word.” When his fingers tightened slightly on her jaw, she had to fight from shooting a glare at Ivan.
She could all but feel the tension in his skin, his need to protect her. But breaking eye contact with Lucas Hunter at this moment would be a very, very bad idea. The predator looking out of his eyes would view it as a weakness, or an indication that she was lying.
“The choice is yours,” Lucas said, a growl in his voice that wasn’t a warning but a simple sign of his nature. “But if you stay, you do so under my authority, as a member of my pack. You want to take another path, you need to do it away from this territory—I’ll give you safe passage out of it, and if you want to come back to visit, you’ll have to follow the same rules as any other predatory changeling.”