Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(46)

“Yeah.” Alexei shoved his hair off his forehead.

Her attention shifted, snagging on the silky golden strands.

He shot her a highly wolfish look—a highly Alexei look. “Remember our deal. No touching unless I can touch back.”

Memory’s toes curled; she was nearly certain he wasn’t just talking about hair. The idea of his rough-skinned hands moving from her nape to lower down her body . . . Her abdomen tensed, the strange, fluttery feeling returning. It almost made her forget the state of her hair.

Lifting her hand to her matted curls, she shook her head. “Not yet.”

Alexei jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I picked up a few things from your list when I went to grab food. No talk of debt, lioness. It’s a ‘welcome to the territory’ gift.”

Memory went quiet. No one since her mother had ever just given her something with no expectation of a return. Renault had only fed her so she’d be strong enough to drain. He’d given her access to education only so she could pass for normal when he had use for her in the world. Even Jitterbug’s food had a catch attached—Renault had brought it in only so he could use her pet to control her.

Alexei wanted absolutely nothing from her in return for the items in the box on the backseat—or for the food he kept giving her. Her heart felt too huge in her chest, her skin not enough to contain it.

“It doesn’t hurt to let someone help you,” Alexei grumbled, his hand tight on the steering wheel.

Memory wanted to open her mouth, explain to him—but how could she explain her overwhelmed reaction to a wolf who’d grown up surrounded by pack? She’d felt Alexei’s intense loyalty to his alpha—and she’d felt the same loyalty coming from the other direction. He could have no comprehension of what it was like to grow up with only a psychopath for company.

He growled into the silence. “I saw you not eating most of your food, by the way.” Shoving a hand into his pocket, he dropped another bar in her lap. “Granola. It’s good.”

Beware of wolves bearing food.

Sascha’s amused voice echoed in her mind; the cardinal had made the comment when Alexei returned with their meal. He’d winked and told “Sascha darling” that she was safe. At the time, Memory had taken it to be a wolf-leopard joke, but she was no longer so sure. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Does it mean something if a wolf brings you food?”

Alexei’s eyes gleamed when he shot her a look. “In this case it means I was brought up to look after tiny starving Es who think they’re lions.”

Gritting her teeth, Memory reached out and poked him in the arm again. He didn’t threaten to bite her, just sent her an amber-eyed glance that said her punishment would keep. Her breath caught, her toes curling inside her shoes.

“If you don’t like the granola bar,” he said after returning his gaze to the forest track, “tell me what you will eat and I’ll make sure you have it.”

Since the only reason she’d picked at her earlier meal was because it had been too close to her encounter with Amara, her stomach slightly nauseous, she opened the granola bar and took a cautious bite. Her eyes widened at the mix of sweet and salty, richness and nuttiness. Examining the wrapper, she saw it was a flavor called “Salted Caramel Almond.”

The wolf in the driver’s seat made a pleased rumbling sound in his throat when she devoured half the bar in a matter of seconds. Memory couldn’t even be annoyed with him, not when he’d blessed her taste buds with this divine deliciousness. “Do you always have these in your pockets? I’m going to rob you if you do.”

A sharp grin that made him beyond beautiful. “Heart-stopping” might be the better description. Memory wanted to sit on his lap and trace that grin with her fingers, just drink it in. Probably he’d bite her if she got her fingers that close to his mouth.

She squeezed her thighs together against a sudden deep ache low in her body.

“I usually grab a couple of different bars from the boxes the kitchen puts out. That’s from yesterday. Flavor the day before was peach with dark chocolate, another day it was dried cherries and walnuts.”

“Will you bring me more?” she said on a wave of wild joy in this moment with her golden wolf . . . and felt her spine lock. As an adult, she’d made it a point to never ask Renault for anything—it had only ever meant humiliation. Only for Jitterbug had she broken her rule, taken the abuse. But Alexei wasn’t Renault.

He said, “If you promise to eat them.” A dark look. “No granola bars if you’re determined to stay a skin-and-bones lioness.”

Memory glared at him. “I’m eating this, aren’t I?” She took a big bite for good measure. “And why do you keep comparing me to a lioness? I’m Psy.”

“You have the ornery temper and mental roar of a shelion,” Alexei said with a mock wince that earned him another glare. What he didn’t add was that she had the heart of some big, wild creature, too; Memory was a survivor, a fighter, and he liked being around her, aggravation and all.

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel on a sudden wave of guilt. How could he grin on today of all days? Brodie had been fucking executed a year ago today. Twelve months without his brother and his sister-in-law. Three hundred and sixty-five days since the second-to-last remaining member of his direct paternal line went rogue.