Tangle of Need (Psy-Changeling #11)(106)

Why do you make me use this archaic method of communication? I am not a primate only capable of tapping out primitive messages on a keyboard.

Because you need to learn to communicate with others.

Why?

Amara, you said you’d try.

Very well. Have you completed your analysis of section 2B3 of the Alliance neural chip?

Yes. It appears stable and secure. Your conclusions?

I concur. Let’s move to section 2B4.

Agreed. Amara … how are you?

Stable and secure.

Amara.

There is a male in the labs who speaks to me. I do not know why—he has nothing of relevance to say.

Perhaps he likes you.

Then he’s being irrational. I can’t like him back.

Talk to him anyway. You might find it an interesting interaction.

Unlikely, but I will consider it another step in my “rehab.”

Do you feel any different?

I no longer have psychopathic thoughts as often. I believe that could be termed progress.

You’re not a psychopath.

Or perhaps you simply don’t want me to be.





Chapter 51





HAWKE SLAPPED RILEY on the back. “Hell yeah.” His wolf was as proud of the other man’s news as he’d be if he were the father.

Riley raised his beer in a cheer. “To redheads.”

Hawke clinked his bottle to Riley’s, both of them seated on the steps of Hawke and Sienna’s private cabin. While the place was meant to be off-limits to the rest of the pack, they’d realized they enjoyed inviting friends over at times.

“Wait,” Hawke said, before taking a sip. “Which redhead are we saluting? My redhead, Mercy, Faith, or your future spawn?”

“All of them.” Riley spread his arms expansively. “And I’ll thank you to call my spawn pups or cubs, or pupcubs.”

“Pupcubs.” Hawke mused. “I like it.”

From her chair on the porch, Mercy shook her head at Sienna. “The boys are drunk.”

Sienna was fascinated. “I’ve never seen Hawke drunk. Or Riley.”

“This,” Mercy said, her tone that of a wise teacher, “is celebratory drunkenness. Witnessed at times when men rejoice in their own prowess.”

Riley glanced over his shoulder to grin—actually grin—at Mercy. “I gave you multiple pupcubs. I have prowess.”

Eyes dancing, Mercy walked to sit behind him on a higher step, so he could lean against her chest. “Yes, you did, and yes, you do.”

Sienna realized she was grinning, and when Hawke shot her a wolfish smile, she couldn’t help but obey the silent order to sit with him as Mercy was doing with Riley. Later, the DarkRiver sentinel pulled her aside for a second. “These two are both hardheaded,” the other woman said, the words affectionate, “but after this much celebration, even his Alphaness will have a hangover. Be gentle.”

Sienna certainly didn’t have to be gentle that night—Hawke was in a mood, and oh her body liked it. With energy to burn and then some, he exhausted her into limp incoherence before tucking her possessively against him, nuzzling his face into her neck and falling asleep.

He didn’t move for eight hours.

Showered and dressed after she managed to wriggle out of his embrace by promising him all sorts of lavish things she wasn’t sure he heard, she sat down on the bed with a mug of coffee and brushed back his hair. One eye opened the merest slit. Closed. A groan sounded. “Shut the curtains.”

“They’re not open.” Given the unpredictable effect of alcohol on Psy abilities, she’d never been drunk, but she’d seen her friends in the condition, kept her voice to a whisper. “I have coffee.”

“Grr.” He refused to move.

Laughter bubbled in her chest. “It’s my special blend.” Breathing deep, she took a sip. “And you have a comm-conference in forty-five minutes.” He could do it from here, but he needed to be conscious for it.

“Tell Riley to handle it.” Spoken into his pillow.

“Riley was more drunk than you and is probably still comatose.” Putting the coffee on the bedside table, she snuggled back into bed beside him.

Eyes remaining closed, he flung an arm around her waist and hauled her against him. “I can hear you thinking.” Grumpy.

“What if when we do decide to have children, I only conceive one?”

Another slit of husky blue. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I just … Is it better to have twins or triplets?” He and Riley had been so delighted by the news. “We could ask the medics to ensure that.” Though, the leopards had been as overjoyed at Naya’s birth and she was a single baby.

Hawke closed his eye. “I love you, but I have a hangover and you’re talking crazy.”

She scowled. “I’m just trying to understand.”

Giving a deep, complaining groan, he opened both eyes. “How many makes no difference—me and Riley, we’d have gotten drunk sooner or later. He’s the first one of us to have a kid. Get it?”

Oh. “Like if it was Evie or Maria or someone else in my group.” She did get it. “It’s a milestone.”

“And it’s f*cking hilarious that Riley, without whom the den would fall apart, is half terrified at the fact he’s about to become a father.”