After he finished with her hair, she pointed to a jar on the countertop built into the stone wall closest to the bedroom. “It’s conditioner that I leave in my hair.”

Ethan worked it into the strands, and as he did so, he caught a hint of the rich green scent he associated with her. Below that, however, was the deeper, more integral scent of her. He might not be changeling, might not have a wolf’s nose, but he would always know Selenka.

“Tell me,” she said, and it was an order—but not from an alpha to a packmate. This was very private, very intimate, from mate to mate. “About the blood and about why you stiffen up every time I mention the future.”

Ethan focused on her hair, on the scents in the air, on the lingering steam from the shower, but he couldn’t hold back the cold, dark truth. “Have you heard of Scarab Syndrome? It only affects Psy, so you may not—”

“No.” A frown he caught from his position slightly to her left. “I remember seeing those words on a medical alert I forwarded to Oleg. It has to do with rogue Psy abilities?”

“In a nutshell, Silence worked for a tiny minority of my race—it contained the most dangerous aspects of our abilities.” Kept them from becoming monstrous and murderous. “The fall of Silence has led to the disintegration of those psychic chains. An unknown force is stretching inside me, a seductive vastness of power that can be only Scarab.”

Grabbing another towel, Selenka turned and began to dry his hair. “What does that mean for you?”

Ethan stood unmoving under her careful motions—she was trying not to pull at his hair, he realized slowly, trying not to hurt him even that infinitesimal amount. The tenderness broke him. No one had ever seen Ethan Night as worthy of care. He wanted to just stand there in that impossible moment, but he had promised his mate the truth.

“There’s no way to turn back the clock once the new powers become active—and these powers lead to insanity, violence, a lack of control.” He could feel the madness whispering things to him, telling him he was capable of far more than he knew.

“There is one possible source of hope,” he added when Selenka’s eyes went gold. “An empath with the proven ability to leach off some of the Scarab power. I’m to meet her tomorrow . . . today.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Ethan didn’t say anything—because having her with him was never not acceptable. “The Consortium operative tried to make contact with me earlier tonight.”

“What will you do?” she asked, no suspicion in her.

It broke bad things inside him, re-formed them into something better. “I’ve informed Aden of the contact, and offered to act as bait if necessary”—even though he didn’t want to waste what time he had on that ugliness—“but he says the squad is on the verge of tracking the operative down using the dossier I provided yesterday.”

“Good.” Selenka turned to put away the towel she’d been using on his hair.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, careful not to press against her wound, but needing her in a way he’d never needed anyone. Until her, need for a person hadn’t even been a concept in his life. Light, air, those had been his deepest needs. Now she was his air and his light.

No one had ever just accepted him, and even though she was angry at him for hiding his physical and psychic status from her, her acceptance of him, of Ethan jagged and damaged, remained steadfast. “This is the closest I’ve ever been to another living being.”

Turning in his embrace, Selenka ran her hands up his back as she pressed her lips to his right pectoral muscle. The contact made his body lock, the sensations that tore through him visceral.

“Does it hurt?” Wolf-gold eyes holding his in challenge. “Have you been in pain each time we kissed?”

He fought to find his feet so he could explain, fought to find his breath. “The majority of the squad underwent psychic training that included the embedding of a feedback loop that punished any deviation from Silence with increasing amounts of physical pain.”

Selenka pricked his back with her claws. “Do you have that? Don’t lie to me, mate of mine.”

Drinking her in, drunk on her, he said, “My trainers had problems getting that part of the mental leash to stick. No one ever worked out why.” Ethan exhaled, inhaled again because he could never get enough of her scent. “Ming told them to forget it—he already had me on a private leash.”

Raising one hand, claws retracted but eyes yet wolf, Selenka ran her fingertips over the side of his bristled jaw. “Then why are your muscles like concrete, your breathing out of kilter?”

“Because I want to devour you.” Like a ravaging beast. “Control is difficult.”

A nip of his throat. “You sure you’re not in pain?”

“No.” Shuddering, he angled his neck for more. “But the sensory overload is significant, and I’m inexperienced. I don’t know the next step.”

Selenka’s smile was different this time, a sensual and intimate thing that asked him to smile with her. “Figuring it out is part of the fun, zaichik.”

He stiffened, jaw clenching. “I am not a rabbit. I am not prey.” Ethan might not fully understand changeling ways, but he knew no alpha wolf would ever treat a prey creature as an equal intimate partner.

Selenka’s laugh was wild and beautiful and it caused the hot tendrils inside him to strengthen and grow and grow. “That’s why I call you zaichik,” she growled with another nip of his throat. “Because you’re the last thing from a fluffy little rabbit that I can imagine. I think it’s funny, but I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

Ethan dared bite her shoulder, got a growl and a stroke through his hair in response. Happy—truly happy—he said, “You can use it.” Now that he understood the why behind it, the term was a secret joke between them. Others would hear her use it and be confused—because no one ever saw an Arrow as prey. But Ethan would know his wolf mate was playing with him and it would mean everything.

While on watch prior to the arrival of the intruders, he’d looked up the material to which Margo had directed him. While he hadn’t been in a space conducive to consuming Hourglass Lives and Ridge remained a mystery to him, Wild Woman magazine had proved an excellent source of information. Several articles had reiterated that while wolves were serious with the world, they were playful, nosy, and deeply loyal with those they claimed.

Unable to resist tasting her smile, he took a kiss, deep and unskilled and voracious. Moaning and wrapping her arms around his neck, his mate flicked out her tongue to wet his lips and his brain blanked, the Scarab power pounding against his shields. Shoving it back with a violent push, Ethan sank into her, sank into sensation.

Selenka didn’t deny him anything. Her lips were plush against his, her tongue wet, and body sleek and cool from the shower. Sliding his hands down her back, to just above the swell of her buttocks, he held her close as he indulged his senses as he’d never before done.

As she indulged him.

He felt spoiled by her, and he reveled in it, in being simply given what he wanted instead of having his need used to torture him.

When he broke the kiss to taste her throat, she arched her neck for him. And when he returned for another ravenous kiss, she gave it to him without hesitation. Inside, the shattered pieces of him continued to re-form into a whole, held by the glowing molten heat of her.

“What do you want?” Warm breath against his throat, Selenka’s teeth closing over sensitive skin.

Ethan’s engorged penis throbbed. “I’ve always understood the mechanics of sexual arousal.” Had been taught those mechanics so he could then be taught how to crush it. “But I didn’t know.” That it’d be near pain, the wanting inside him, that he’d be breathless, his brain not fully functional.

Kisses on his throat, her nails scraping over his scalp in a caress that made the tiny hairs on his body rise. “We’ll go slow.” A sensual promise. “So you can ride each edge and be ready for the next.” Another nip. “Even if I do want to eat you up and come back for seconds right now.”

He kissed her again, certain beyond any doubt that kissing would always be one of his most favorite things. The taste of her, how her eyes looked into his at the moment of contact, before her lashes drifted shut, the way her breath brushed his skin. Having her so close to him, strong and dangerous yet willing to be soft in this time and place.

Making a rumbling sound in the back of her throat as he ran his hands over her back and down her arms before retracing his path with a stronger touch, Selenka broke the kiss to say, “For an ice-cold Arrow, you’re very good at petting a wolf who needs exactly that today.”

Eyes of wild gold examined him with wolfish suspicion. “Where did you learn that? To be clear, I’m jealous.”

Blood languorous and heavy, Ethan continued his petting. He was never going to get enough of touching her. “I feel you inside me, and I know what you need.”

Frown lines furrowed Selenka’s brow, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest as she said, “I don’t know if that’s how mating works.” A kiss to his chest. “How you’re touching me, it’s precisely what I need. It’s too subtle and deep a read.”

Ethan turned to stone. “I’m not reading your mind.” He would never violate her in such a way.

It was her turn to “pet” him, the word she’d used perfect for what they were doing, this gentle caressing and learning. “I know, Ethan—that’s not what I meant.” Little kisses along his rigid jaw until he softened for her; she then slid her hand around to the back of his neck as she had a habit of doing.

According to Wild Woman, it was an act of “sneaky wolf possessiveness.”

He’d never known that skin was so sensitive—or how much he’d love a possessive lover. Love how she touched him, how she saw him, how she smiled at him with wolf eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re figuring this out so quick—that brain of yours is sexy as hell.”