Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(97)

Chapter 45


If a wolf invites you to play, just ask where and when. You won’t be sorry. Depending on your playmate, you might also end up naked.

—From the April 2075 issue of Wild Woman magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style & Primal Sophistication”


MEMORY SAT SILENT and cold in the passenger seat as Alexei drove to the compound. She ached deep within, and it had nothing to do with physical pain—she felt bruised by her contact with the murderous psychic hunter. How could she feel sorry for that horrible man who’d hurt Yuri and Abbot and who wanted to murder her designation? Yet she did.

Something in that warped mind had reached her empathic core.

What did that make her?

They were nearly at the compound when Alexei went to take her hand, put it on his thigh.

Flinching, Memory pulled away.

No growl, only a distinctly wolfish motionlessness. “You going to talk to me?”

Memory shook her head.

“Yeah, well, tough luck.” Alexei’s primal power filled the SUV. “You’re allowed to sulk, but not to hurt inside that way.”

Memory bristled. “Who are you to give me orders about what I can and can’t feel?”

His growl filled the entire inside of the vehicle, making the tiny hairs on her arms stand up and her heart kick. Her blood heated, a red-hot fire sweeping through the darkness. “I have told you not to growl at me.”

He bared his teeth at her. “And if I do?”

Narrowing her eyes, she hit him with a wave of puppies and rainbows and sparkle.

He hissed out a breath. “That’s just mean.”

“You started it.” She folded her arms across her chest and stopped the barrage of happiness. “I want to brood, so leave me alone.”

The damn wolf actually chuckled.

Glaring out the windscreen, she decided to ignore him. She was so focused on the conflicting emotions inside her that it took her a while to realize they should’ve reached the compound by now.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“Wherever I want,” said the infuriating man in the driver’s seat.

Even the barrage of sickly sweet happiness she aimed at him just made him grit his teeth and keep going. Until at last he brought the vehicle to a stop in the middle of nowhere, the forest silvered by moonlight around them and no signs of habitation in sight. She sat stubbornly in the passenger seat even after he hopped out.

Opening her door, he let in the cool night air. “Want to see something wonderful?”

“No.” She tightened her folded arms.

Pulling at her curls, he said, “Bad-tempered lioness.” When she didn’t respond to that provocation, he leaned in closer. “Come play.” The rough-voiced request made her stomach clench, a shiver threatening to roll over her body.

He nuzzled at her curls before drawing back and beginning to strip off his clothes. Memory wasn’t superhuman; she looked. And his body . . . For the first time, she understood that saying about swallowing your tongue. No one that perfectly chiseled and golden could be real. He had to be an illusion.

She didn’t realize she’d reached out a hand to brush her fingers against his chest until he grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers up to his mouth to nip lightly at them. Retracting her hand, she forced herself to look away when he began to undo the top button on his jeans. Light sparked in her peripheral vision not long afterward.

Heart jolting, she turned . . . to see a large gray wolf shaking its fur into place.

A discarded pile of clothes lay on the grass and the eyes that met hers were pure amber. The wolf stretched out its body, its paws out front and its head lower than its back. Come play, it said.

Wonder shimmered through her, bright lights in the darkness.

Unfolding her arms while her lower lip trembled, she swung her legs out of the truck. The wolf gripped at the edge of her pants, tugged.

“Stop that,” she said. “I like these jeans.”

He tugged again.

Unable to bite back her laugh, she jumped down and closed the door behind her. The wolf let go at last. When she went to her knees and raised her hand with hesitant wonder, he butted his head against her chest. “Alexei,” she whispered, astonished at the transformation even though she’d always known he was changeling; seeing him this way, this magnificent wild beast . . .

Fisting her hands in his fur, she rubbed the side of her face against him.

He opened his powerful and deadly jaws, pretended to grip her throat. She pushed playfully at the heavy bulk of his body and he danced away, light as air. Only to come back when she held out her hand. She stroked him, found that his coat was thick and soft. He stood in place, not just patient with her petting but angling his head or nudging at her to indicate she’d hit a good spot or that he wanted more.

Memory tugged at one of his ears, got a low growl in response, and a look that she was sure was of affront. “I guess no one dares tug a dominant wolf’s ear.” Her smile creased her cheeks. “What kind of game do you want to play?”

Amber eyes gleamed.

Lowering itself into a seated position, the wolf ostentatiously closed its eyes and put its head on its paws.

“A sleeping game?” Memory scrunched up her face. “That’s the strangest game I’ve ever heard of.”