Rough, tough Valentin Nikolaev had gotten under her defenses from day one.

“You have to know one thing before we do this.” She deliberately moved her hand to the bare skin of his forearm.

Valentin shuddered. “An uncivilized bear might take that as permission to break the rules about not touching you skin to skin, but since I’m a gentleman bear, I’m going to ask.” Deep and rough, his voice scraped over her skin like he was rubbing his stubbled jaw against the most sensitive parts of her. “Skin contact okay now?”

“Yes, but that’s not what you need to know.” His skin was hot under hers, the dark hairs on his arms giving it a texture that wasn’t smooth but wasn’t rough, either. He had hair on his chest, too—she could feel the springiness of it under her cheek through his shirt.

“There’s a high chance I’ll return to Silence.” Her grandmother might not have had all the information, but one truth no one could change: pre-Silence, Silver’s sub-designation had been considered extinct.

No Tp-A had ever survived to adolescence, much less adulthood.

“I’ll take that risk.” Valentin’s right hand curved around her throat. “But I should warn you, too, Starlight,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m playing for keeps.”

Her pulse sped up, her skin flushing as blood surged to the surface in a primal response to the gauntlet Valentin had thrown down. Her first instinct was to stifle the physical response under a wave of arctic ice . . . but she was Silver Fucking Mercant and she’d made a decision, would see it through.

Valentin wrapped his hand more firmly around her throat.

It should’ve felt like a threat. It felt like something else altogether, the sensation one she didn’t have the experience to process. Ignorance was not a concept with which Silver had an acquaintance. “Explain what’s happening.”

“We’re happening.” Valentin stroked her throat with a gentleness that did nothing to hide the blatant possessiveness of the contact. “But you’re exhausted and now that I’ve made you boneless”—unconcealed smugness—“I’m going to allow you to sleep. The Church should give me a sainthood.”

Silver yawned, her eyes gritty. Yet she didn’t want to stop.

Want was a forbidden concept under Silence. Under the Protocol that stripped Psy of emotion, things were framed in terms of necessity and checks and balances. But that prohibition no longer applied, and Silver was discovering the craving power of want. Such as the need to feel Valentin’s not-rough, not-smooth skin against every inch of her.

His hand went motionless on her throat without warning. “Will it hurt you? To break out of the Silence?”

“No. I have control over the structural scaffolding of my Silence.” Ena had made dead certain no Mercant child had pain controls built into his or her mind. Silver would not be crippled by an excruciating backlash should she breach the Protocol.

Valentin began to stroke her throat again. “Good.” A rumbling sound in his throat. “If you get changed and slip into bed, moyo solnyshko, I’ll massage you some more.”

Silver realized he was negotiating with her, decided the compromise was acceptable. “I need a minute.”

Valentin brushed his fingers over her skin once more before getting off the bed. The loss of his earthy scent; his heat; his big, solid presence, it was disorienting enough to cut through her drowsiness.

“I’ll leave the door slightly ajar,” Valentin said, his eyes ringed by amber and his voice still holding that rough depth that said she was speaking to both parts of him. “If you say my name, I’ll hear it.”

Silver watched him until he left the room, then got up to ready herself for bed. All the while, she considered the disorientation she’d felt when he broke contact, the sudden . . . howl of emptiness. Emotion was dangerous. It created need and need created vulnerability. The smart thing would be to step back, return to the cold insulation of Silence.

Be yourself.

Words her grandmother had spoken to her when Silver was a child of ten, the two of them standing at a Mercant property in the country, the landscape flowing out endlessly in front of them. The wind had tugged at Silver’s white smock, unfurled a strand of hair from Ena’s chignon.

“In a world of those who follow the rules without deviation,” Ena had added, “those who innovate even in the shadows, will rule. Never be a carbon copy.”

Having changed into white pajama pants printed with the outlines of trees and a simple black tank, Silver brushed out her hair before getting into bed.

“Valentin.”

He entered so quickly she knew he’d been waiting impatiently for her. Shutting the door behind him, he ran his hand over the light panel to pitch the room into total blackness. She could feel him walking toward her regardless, the size and sheer power of him disrupting the air patterns.

“Lie on your front.”

In the dark, his voice reached even deeper inside her. Skin aching in a way that wasn’t pain, she turned over onto her front and swept her hair to the side out of habit.

The bed dipped.

Her pulse accelerated.

“I’m definitely going to play with your pretty hair now.” A hot breath against the back of her neck, a tug on her skull, as if he’d gently fisted his hand in the unbound strands. His body was a wall of primal power over her. “So soft. I want to hold it in my hands while I kiss you wet and deep.”

Silver’s breath lost its rhythm.

Then Valentin put one big hand on her upper arm. An electrical surge arced through her body, smashing out of every single nerve ending she possessed. Her eyes snapped open, her heartbeat so jagged it was in her throat. “Stop.”

Valentin broke contact at once. “You’re hurting.” It was an angry charge, the sound all bear. “I am not going to do anything that’ll cause you pain.”

Silver felt the bed begin to move, as if he were getting off. “Don’t go.”

A rough, grumbling sound, but his weight came over her again, his elbows braced against the mattress on either side of her head. “I want to bite you right now.” It didn’t sound like a playful sexual threat.

Fingers curling into the sheets, Silver said, “We rushed it.” Her fault. “No more skin contact tonight. I have to build my tolerance.”

Valentin didn’t touch her even through her clothing; she could feel the waves of fury coming off him at the thought he’d caused her pain.

“Have I ever lied to you?” She should’ve known the first time she told him the truth when she didn’t have to, that Valentin Nikolaev was dangerous to her.

He grumbled against her again. “Why do you sound so pissy when I’m the one who’s got a right to be mad?” Teeth closing on her shoulder, over the delicate cloth of her tank top, but despite his threat, he didn’t bite.

The pressure was enough. It made her toes curl, the physiological response inexplicable. “Valyusha,” she said softly, having the sense of calming a wild creature she’d startled. “I’m not hurt. I was just being Silver Fucking Mercant, trying to do it all right now.”

Releasing her shoulder, Valentin came down more heavily over her, his erection a rigid brand against her lower back.

Chapter 23

Male bears are excellent and generous lovers, albeit demanding. Be enthusiastic. Be demanding in return. And whatever you do, never ever look bored. Your gorgeous bear lover could have a surprisingly fragile ego.