Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(12)

Having dug down to the very bottom, he pulled out the smallest sizes he could find. “Not too bad.” The supply crew must’ve stocked the trunk for when the juveniles came up on training runs. Not that he didn’t have petite adult packmates, but the E was on the tiny end of even that sizing. Still, he’d found her a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was definitely too large, but that wouldn’t matter if the pants fit well enough.

He passed her the items, then pointed to the other side of the hallway. “Bathroom’s in there if you want a hot shower.”

She held the clothing carefully away from her wet body. Water still dripped from her hair despite the fact that it was frizzy in places from her attempts to rub it dry.

“Wait.” Grabbing a thinner towel from the sushi roll shelf, he handed that to her, too. “For your hair. Be easier to wrap around your head than that green one.” Despite his recent state of mind, he wasn’t feral; women generally liked him and he’d been around enough of them, both as a lover and as a friend, to pick up certain things.

The empath stared at him, those fathomless eyes searching his face for some indefinable thing. Man and wolf watched her as intently in turn, attempting to figure out this lost E who had claws hidden under her skin. The wolf was of the opinion that it might like a skinny would-be lion with psychic claws who dared meet its gaze.

Then she shivered.

Pointing to the shower, Alexei growled. “Warm up. Now.”

A slight—very slight—narrowing of her eyes that made him want to snap his teeth at her. But she shivered again at that instant and it seemed to decide her. Turning on her heel, she walked through into the shower.

It shut; he heard the lock click, then the shower come on.

Alexei released a harsh breath.

He had not been looking forward to picking her up and dumping her under the hot spray—that would’ve well and truly eliminated any wary trust she had in him. Though . . . being an obstinate and testy lioness-type under her chilled skin, she might well have kicked him in the family jewels while blasting his mind with fury.

Alexei grinned, cheered by the thought.

Deciding he could warm up without the shower, he stripped, then picked up his suspiciously sweet-smelling towel and sniffed at it. Fuck it, he was going to smell like roses. Wolf and man resigned to the ignominy, he rubbed vigorously, until his skin was pleasantly warm from the friction and his hair damp but not wet.

At least none of his pack were here to rag him about his floral bouquet. Brodie would’ve—

His stomach tightened, his heart a stone in his chest.

Hauling the door to the substation open after unlocking it, he stepped outside, shut the door behind him, then threw back his head and howled up at the thunderous black sky. The sound was whipped away by the wind and the rain, his throat raw in the aftermath. But the pain and anger, it was bearable again.

He could think of his big brother again without wanting to break the world. “Fuck you, Brodie.” His chest hurt, his claws stabbing at his skin. “Fuck you.”

This time, he heard no echo of yesterday, no laughter from a ghost. Just the rain and the thunder as lightning cracked the sky.





Chapter 4


Abstract: A study of changeling rogues. Prevalent only in the predatory changeling population. Not subject to any academic study or paper since Dr. Menet’s Rogue Genetics (1989). Shame, fear, grief, are all part of the reason for changeling reticence on this subject.

—Changeling Rogues: Broken Minds & Broken Families by Keelie Schaeffer, PhD (Work in Progress)


BACK INSIDE THE substation, Alexei dried off a second time, then pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt that hugged his pecs and biceps. He wasn’t the biggest male in SnowDancer, but he was muscled enough through the shoulders and chest that this had been the best option in the trunk. He’d have to let the supply team know clothes were running low for the larger sizes—should Matthias come up here while he was visiting the main den, he’d be shit out of luck.

Alexei’s friend and fellow lieutenant was built like a tank.

The ordinary thoughts, the ordinary business of being part of a thriving pack, it steadied him. He could never forget that Brodie was dead, had been executed, but he could function again as a SnowDancer lieutenant, as Alexei. Not the Alexei he’d once been, but the man he’d salvaged out of the ashes of his brother’s betrayal.

He didn’t feel the need for a sweatshirt. The substation was kept at a comfortable temperature for his changeling body. Picking up his wet gear and the towel, he placed them in a neat pile outside the bathroom. There had to be a container inside in which he could carry dirty laundry down to the den.

Because he’d learned that lesson a lifetime ago.

His lips kicked up at the unexpected memory.

Aunt Min had blistered both his and Brodie’s ears when, as teens, they’d begun to drop towels on the floor. “Do I look like your maid?” Crossed arms, her booted foot tapping on the floor. “I’ll answer for you—no, I do not. I look like a goddamn SnowDancer soldier who will boot you up the backside if I come home to this mess again.”

Harsh words, but Aunt Min’s discipline had always been meted out with a ferocious love that engulfed them and kept even Brodie from going off the rails—Alexei’s brother had taken up doing dangerous hoverboard stunts and raced dirt bikes on deadly trails, but when he fell, he called their aunt.