Even as he built the lush erotic fantasy, he knew she was nowhere near ready for what he’d demand from her. Alexei had made an art form out of leashing his most primal instincts. It was a survival strategy. Control with Memory, however, would be an impossible ask; she was so ferocious in that small body that she incited the same aggression in him.

The man she accepted as her lover would be one lucky bastard.

Claws scraping the insides of his skin, he turned to stare out at the compound cloaked in night. Memory’s future lovers had nothing to do with him—the kiss the two of them had shared had been a thing of circumstance, would likely never be repeated. Alexei had to make sure it wasn’t repeated. He couldn’t get into bed with a woman who made him want to break all his rules, breach the walls he kept between himself and the world.

Brodie had made that mistake.

Brodie was now dead. So was Brodie’s sweet, innocent mate.

Torn to pieces by the one man who should’ve protected her at all costs.

His neck stiffened, his shoulders rigid.

“Alexei.”

He’d scented her before she reached him, but just barely. Their proximity, that kiss, it had left him brushed with her scent . . . and she wore his. The wolf inside him arched its back in unhidden pleasure—already it was beginning to fight the more rational human side of Alexei, unwilling to give her up.

“You have everything you need for tonight?” Gut tight, he passed her the datapad without taking his gaze from the rain-quiet compound.

“Yes. I feel tired.” Those last words were spoken almost in a tone of affront.

Despite his attempt to maintain his emotional distance, a smile threatened to tug at Alexei’s lips; she seemed to have forgotten that she’d been the prisoner of a psychopath only a day prior. His E was finding her stride and finding it quickly, with an unwavering resolve that the predator in him could do nothing but admire. All she needed was a little time, and she’d be a creature of strength and beauty courted by many.

Alexei had no right to use her current vulnerability against her. She might poke and snarl at him, but deep down, she trusted him—because he was the one who’d pulled her out of the cage. She’d had no chance to get to know other males, could make no real choice.

And why the hell was he gnawing on that when she wasn’t for him, could never be for him?

He had to get away from the sweet temptation of her, leash himself again.

“Rest tonight.” Even as he spoke, he wondered if she had enough blankets and if the heating was working efficiently; he’d check with the SnowDancer-DarkRiver supply team that provisioned the cabins. “You’re seeing Sascha again tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She came to stand beside him. “Will I see you?”

Alexei nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be by to have a security meeting.” The compound was part of his responsibilities during this secondment. “Indigo, the lieutenant who usually oversees things here, is looking after my den.” The senior lieutenant was a stunner by any measure, but he bet no neighboring asshole or roaming loner would dare challenge her to a dominance fight. What the fuck was it about him that incited idiots?

He was chewing on the sulky thought to distract himself from the sexy, fascinating woman beside him when she said, “Why won’t you look at me? Scared by a little kiss?”

Alexei’s spine stiffened, his eyes narrowing at the taunt and his wolf insulted to the core. Oh, his E was definitely finding her feet—and she had a mouth on her that delighted him. This woman had teeth. To a dominant changeling of Alexei’s inclinations, that made her deliciously tempting.

“Watch how you poke the wolf,” he growled, stepping off the porch before he could give in to the temptation to scoop her up and carry her off to his lair. “One day, you’ll go too far and the wolf will eat you.”

* * *

• • •

MEMORY watched from the doorway as Alexei strode across the compound toward the trees. She had to grip the edge of the doorjamb to stop herself from going after him and finishing their verbal battle. She knew it was foolish, that he was a wolf with strength that annihilated hers—and yet, she wanted to fight him.

She far preferred his growling to this quiet and intense distance. Even his threat to eat her had been oddly controlled. No snapping his teeth at her, no glint in the eye that said he was provoking her on purpose.

Setting her jaw, she glared at his retreating form. The damn wolf was hurting inside and rousing his temper was the only way she could think to help him. When he was snarling and grumbling at her, he forgot to be sad and angry and in such terrible pain. She wished she were like other empaths, could take painful emotions from others and soften the edges of their hurt, but she wasn’t. The only thing she could do to help Alexei was aggravate him.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, she yelled, “Chicken!”

Alexei turned on his heel near the tree line. He was too far to see clearly in the rainy dark, but she knew he was glowering at her with eyes of wild amber. As she watched, he lifted his arms and tore his T-shirt off over the top of his head. A minute later and he’d taken off his boots and jeans. She couldn’t see his body except as a silhouette in shadow, but she saw the flickers of light that erupted around him.

Her breath caught.

A large gray wolf stood where Alexei had glared at her. Heart in her throat, she stepped out, going to the far end of the porch in an effort to see him more clearly. The wolf seemed to shake to settle his pelt in place, then—with a final “you’re in trouble” stare—it was gone, a primal ghost in the darkness.

Wonder bloomed inside her at the idea of him running as a wolf . . . and other doors opened around her, curious empaths poking their heads out to search for the crazy woman who was yelling “chicken” at a very dangerous wolf. Suddenly vividly aware of her ill-fitting clothes and matted hair, her nerves jumping, Memory melted back into her doorway until they closed their doors again. But she didn’t go inside and shut her own door.

When all was quiet again, she made herself step out, even though she was afraid of the Arrows who watched over the compound. That fear angered her, but she knew it was a survival mechanism. It told her to be careful.

Reminding herself that her golden wolf would’ve never left her in this place unless it was safe, she clenched her stomach to quiet the queasiness, and walked quickly across the compound. Her movements had become less erratic hour by hour, but she did still have the odd jerked motion; when they came, she took a second, then carried on.

Once at her goal, she began to pick up the clothing Alexei had left in a tidy pile by the trees. He’d set his boots down sideways under the clothing, to stop the rain from getting inside. She knew people here must be used to finding piles of clothing discarded by changelings who’d shifted, but she collected everything anyway and returned with it to her cabin, holding his scent close. There was no need for his things to get wet when she could keep them dry inside.

Where the crabby wolf would have to come to retrieve them.

Her skin heated, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

Door shut behind her, she put his clothing neatly on one of the two chairs she had around her small kitchen table, his boots just underneath, then walked into the bedroom and began to prepare for bed. A kind stranger had left soft flannel pajamas for her, as well as a simple change of clothes for tomorrow morning—a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a sweater. A set of underwear was also included, sealed inside the store’s floral packaging.

She put on the bottom half of the pajamas, then snuck back into the kitchen and stole Alexei’s T-shirt. It swamped her and it felt like being cuddled by him, his scent in every weave and thread. She hugged it around herself. “He shouldn’t have left it behind if he didn’t want me using it,” she said to Jitterbug . . . and remembered too late that her pet was gone forever.

It hurt, just hurt.

Drawing in Alexei’s scent in a desperate defensive action, she decided to distract herself by ordering more clothes. It appeared she wasn’t going to be kicked out of this lovely green landscape; the least she could do was make sure she looked presentable.

After getting into bed with the datapad, she was a second away from ordering a sensible hard-wearing pair of pants when she said, “No.” She wasn’t a captive anymore. She didn’t have to wear anything but what she wanted.

A woman who taunted a dominant changeling wolf wasn’t exactly sensible anyway.

When a howl rose on the air currents, she shivered and stared out toward the silhouettes of the firs visible from her bedroom window. And she wondered if her golden wolf would find peace this night. “Don’t hurt, Alexei,” she whispered.

Chapter 23

“Promise, Lexie . . . you’ll put us . . . together. Promise.”

—Etta Harte Vasiliev’s final words

ALEXEI RAN UNDER the falling rain, the ghosts of his past running beside him. His big brother had never been anything but proud of Alexei’s rank in the pack, not the least annoyed that his baby brother was the more dominant wolf of them. But then, when it was just them, the dominance rules of the pack hadn’t applied.

At those times, Brodie was the big brother and Alexei the younger follower.

It had always been that way, the roles of childhood carrying on into adulthood, as was often the case between siblings. Ten-year-old Brodie was the one who’d climbed the tallest trees first, as younger, smaller Alexei jumped up and down below, urging his big brother on while asking him to be careful. Brodie had teased him for being a nag, but it had been gently done—because Brodie knew why Alexei worried.

When his big brother decided to try a homemade parachute, twelve-year-old Alexei had done all the research and made sure the stitches were strong, and that Brodie had a soft landing place. And when Brodie set his mind on getting a permanent tattoo at age sixteen, with ink that would last through the shift, it was Alexei who’d talked him out of the large grinning skull with one tooth.

Brodie had ended up agreeing to Alexei’s choice: a small family crest Alexei had designed in memory of their parents. Alexei, too, had gotten inked with the crest when he was eighteen. He was still too angry with Brodie to add a memory of his brother to the crest, but the two of them had been so proud of their original inkings.