Her hand jerked, crushing the edge of the dough she’d been about to cut. She quickly nudged it back into shape and continued on. “You’re a human stranger who’s managed to create a relationship with BlackSea within two years of taking over the Alliance.” She swapped the rectangle cutter for a circular one. “You also have a reputation for ruthless dedication to your goals.”

Bowen clenched his jaw, tried to see things from her perspective. “You could say the same for Miane.”

When she glanced up with lines marring her brow, he said, “Your alpha has managed to make an alliance with the two most powerful packs in the world despite BlackSea only recently breaking isolation. And I don’t think either one of us will argue against her ruthlessness.” Miane Levèque was a sleek, deadly predator.

Thrusting her prepared trays of shortbread into the oven, Kaia shut the door, then programmed the correct cooking temperature and time. The device started with a hum, the temperature racing from zero to the set number in a matter of seconds. “We didn’t build a paramilitary army prior to seeking a relationship.”

Bowen frowned. “Kaia, BlackSea has a massive number of men and women with military training. You also have armed submersibles, missile launchers capable of shooting down flying craft, jetboats, weaponized jet-choppers, hovercraft—the list is long and it’s full of people and things that can kill.”

Chapter 16

We will never again be prey.

—Tao Levèque, the founding First of BlackSea

BOWEN’S WORDS DIGGING into her brain and refusing to leave, Kaia began to throw together the ingredients for her second batch of cookies. And she kept thinking of Malachai and Armand, Teizo and Tevesi. All of them strong dominants. Mal as dangerous as Bowen Knight, the other three not far behind.

Armand was an expert at air defense, could pinpoint a target with laser accuracy, while Teizo and Tevesi were submersible experts—offensive and defensive.

“Our resources are necessary,” she said at last. “Water changelings have been targeted and hurt through the centuries.” Spread out as they were, they’d had no power and thus no one had respected their rights or territorial claims.

“Humans can’t escape into water.” Bowen’s voice was hard. “We have to live on land where Psy can rape our minds and where strong changelings can take what’s ours by force.”

Horror uncurled in Kaia’s gut. “To take forcibly from humans is against changeling law.” Different rules applied between changeling groups—for a clan or pack wasn’t meant to claim what it couldn’t hold.

Bowen’s lips tugged up in a humorless smile. “There are bad changelings just as there are bad humans.” He rubbed at his face. “Two months before I was shot, I went in with our paramilitary team to protect an isolated human settlement against a violently aggressive group of changeling mountain lions. The fuckers had terrorized those people for days.”

Staring frozen at him, Kaia whispered, “Did they hurt anyone?”

“Three men who went out to confront them.” Bo got off the stool and began to pace, pressing his weight down on the cane with each jagged step. “All three were still in the hospital by the time I went off the bridge in Venice.”

Kaia lifted trembling fingers to her mouth.

But Bowen wasn’t done yet. “We tranqued the hell out of the bastards—should’ve shot them, but we’re trying to build bonds, not break them. Took days to track down their pack, and when we did, their alpha told us the group had been made outclan.” Shifting to face her, he said, “Because their alpha couldn’t bring himself to execute members of his pack after they first committed crimes punishable by death, humans paid the price.”

Dropping her hand, Kaia looked unseeing at the jar of raisins. “You need the fighters.” It seemed so self-evident a truth when Bowen laid it out—but Hugo had seen a monstrous hunger for power in the Alliance’s quiet increase in military capabilities. “Why so many?”

Bowen shoved a hand roughly through his hair. “We only have one main unit. The Alliance isn’t big enough to spread out our might—we have to mobilize to multiple parts of the world as needed.”

Meanwhile, BlackSea had a massive security presence on both Cifica and Lantia, as well as units on the smaller floating cities around the world. Kaia’s inherent sense of fairness saw nothing wrong with humans having knives against a world that would otherwise step on them.

But . . . why would Hugo skew his report to make it sound as if the Alliance was gathering a vast army that could overwhelm BlackSea? All she could think was that he’d misunderstood what he was seeing—her friend was a comms and computronics expert, not well versed in security.

Maybe that was why Mal was being so careful; he must’ve realized that particular part of Hugo’s dossier made no sense. Frowning, the ground no longer so solid beneath her feet, she removed Bowen’s now-cold plate of food and slid the leftovers into the organic recycler. She got a fresh plate afterward, dished out an extra serving of the casserole he’d scraped off his plate.

“Eat,” she said, putting the plate on the counter.

He glared at her. “We’re having an argument.”

“It’s over.” She needed time alone to think, couldn’t do it with him in the room. “Eat or all you’re getting from now on is gruel.” Putting her hands on her hips, she dug up her sternest expression. “And no coconut walnut snowballs, either.”

Bowen Knight stood unmoving, his gaze dark on her—but Kaia wasn’t afraid. Neither was she in the grip of the black anger that had driven her to throw Hugo’s evidence in his face. Confusion had fractured her certainty; the wrenching shift left a gap, and in that instant she felt something else rise up to fill it, a sudden madness fueled by a primal and visceral response she didn’t want to acknowledge. Her blood surged, the other half of her diving agitatedly in the sea that was her soul, and her heart pumped.

Holding his gaze, she picked up a handful of walnuts and began to eat them one by one.

“Kaia.” Fury continued to hum under his skin.

She crunched another walnut in deliberate provocation.

Eyes narrowed, he began to move . . . but he didn’t go to his stool. No, he came around to her counter. And though she could’ve easily evaded him in his current state, she stood her ground. Even when he came so close that her breasts brushed his chest with every inhale.

His body heat kissed her skin, his chin dark with stubble. “You need to shave,” she murmured, her fingers rising almost of their own volition to brush against the roughness.

Cane clattering to the floor, Bowen gripped her chin in one hand without warning and pressed his lips to her own.

Kaia stumbled back, her hands reaching behind her to land on the counter. He came with her. His body was a hard press against her front, his hand still gripping her jaw. But his lips, they were soft, coaxing. And where Kaia could’ve withstood harsh demand, she found herself sweet-talked by the luscious charm of his invitation of a kiss.

His scent infused her senses, warm and with a hint of the soap he’d used for his shower earlier, but mostly just Bowen. She didn’t remember raising her hand again, but her fingers were fisted in his hair, and oh, it was as pettable as it looked. She wanted to—

A shriek of laughter.

Kaia jerked away from the kiss, glancing over her shoulder with her heart booming thunder. They remained alone—but from the noises getting closer, that wouldn’t last much longer. Putting one hand on Bowen’s chest and trying not to sense the living heat of him under the thin barrier of his shirt, she pushed.

He’d already braced one hand on the counter, didn’t lose his balance. His hair was tumbled, his lips wet from their kiss, and his eyes . . . She wondered if her pupils were as hugely dilated.

Smoothing back her hair, she said, “Your food’s getting cold.”

* * *

• • •

BOWEN didn’t trust himself to move. He’d kissed Kaia in a fit of temper, but that temper had died a quick death at the taste of her, at the feel of her. She was so sweetly curved and silky warm, and she tasted like walnuts and pure, provocative woman.

He wanted to sink into her, wanted to worship her with his mouth, his hands.

No kiss, no woman, had ever before made him lose it. Bo was fucking renowned for his control. More than one lover had left him after screaming that he might as well be Psy himself, he was such a cold bastard. Not even that had truly pricked his temper. He’d been annoyed and a little aggravated at what he’d seen as an unfair accusation, but fury so hot it made him see red?

No woman had ever aroused that kind of passion.

No woman but Kaia.

Back away, said the cold and analytical part of him that had been born in the gush of blood that hit his face after he drove a thin black pen into a telepath’s carotid. That part had learned that emotional choices got a man nowhere when he was fighting a battle against an emotionless psychic race.

But even the Psy, another part of him whispered, have given up their chilly Silence. Kaleb Krychek, the most violently powerful telekinetic in the world, had a woman he adored so openly that there could be no doubt of his devotion. Silver Mercant was mated to a bear. The world was changing on a fundamental level . . . while Bo remained stuck in amber.

Chapter 17

I worry about you, Bo. You deserve a life beyond this fight for humanity. You deserve to fall in love and to travel the world with a carefree heart. You deserve to be more than an eternal soldier.

—Leah Knight (50) in a letter to her son, Bowen (19)

“I’LL GET IT,” he said when Kaia moved to retrieve the cane for him. “I need to retrain all muscle groups.”

Broken out of the loop of memory, he bent with care for his balance and picked up the cane. He didn’t look at Kaia as he walked around the counter, but that did nothing to break the electric connection between them. And it did nothing to erase the cold, hard fact that in fourteen more days’ time, Bowen Knight might cease to exist without ever having moved beyond the panicked terror of the thirteen-year-old boy he’d once been.