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

Since the Tk-Cell had abandoned the squad when he defected, it was clear the Arrows had disregarded Ming’s order not out of any loyalty to their former comrade, but to make it clear to Ming that they would no longer support him in any form. A critical loss, but not crippling. Looking up to meet the eyes of the man who’d brought him the report, he said, “Do we have anyone with the training to take on Lauren?”

“No. Only an Arrow can successfully contain another Arrow.”

Ming had to agree. The Arrows were too highly trained to be easy prey. He’d been one of their number in his youth, but he’d been out of active service for two decades, no longer had the same level of skill when it came to covert assassinations. Added to the fact that Judd Lauren could teleport, it made no rational sense to go after the rebel Arrow himself.

However, Sienna Lauren was neither an Arrow nor a telekinetic. He’d trained her, and so he knew her exact skill set. There were murmurs in the Net that she’d further honed those skills during her time with the wolves, but that didn’t alter his conclusions. If it came down to it, the battle would be a psychic one—and he’d trapped her with his mind once. He would do it again.

“Keep monitoring the situation,” he ordered. “Unobtrusive surveillance. No contact.” Sienna hadn’t appeared in public since the lethal wave of her X-fire had consumed a significant percentage of Henry’s Pure Psy army. No one was yet certain that she hadn’t perished in the aftermath. If she had, it would’ve been because she’d been physically executed by one of her own—because unless his power release theory had borne out, the psychic implosion of a cardinal X would’ve taken out the Sierras themselves. “Your goal is to discover if Sienna Lauren survived the battle.”

If she was alive, she could not be allowed to exist off the leash of Ming’s psychic control.





Chapter 7





TEMPER STILL SIMMERING—and that wasn’t the only thing—Riaz got dressed in plain black athletic pants made of a light material that didn’t overheat, his upper body bare, and walked out to the training run just in time to see a group of the more experienced soldiers cross the finish line. “How did it go?” he asked Judd, who’d been overseeing the session.

“Curses were cast on your name.” Judd’s expression remained unchanged, his sense of humor a subtle thing. “The course is a tough one, but wolves enjoy challenge.”

“So do Psy.” He knew that as a Tk, Judd was brutal competition. “Me and you.” The painful fury of energy in his body needed somewhere to go.

But Judd shook his head, dark hair catching the deep orange rays of the slowly setting sun. “I have dinner with Walker and the kids. Tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Riaz opted to remain behind after the other lieutenant left with the rest of the group, deciding to run the course on his own. That was when he caught an unexpected scent on the breeze.

Crushed ice over berries … licked with an unexpected undertone of lingering warmth.

His jaw tightened when Adria emerged from the trees, his wolf reacting with a snarl even as his cock hardened. The response was so hot, so fast, and so beyond his conscious control that it infuriated him.

Not saying a word, Adria kicked off her boots and socks.

“You’re not dressed right.” It came out a near growl.

A fluid shrug that revealed the lithe muscle on that tall frame. “Jeans are worn in.”

His wolf heard the unspoken challenge, flashed its canines. “Then let’s go.” With that, he ran up the smooth wooden log that had been the downfall of more than one SnowDancer, conscious of Adria making the climb with an almost feline grace.

Instead of a wall at the top of the slope, there was now a specially designed rope climbing frame that required rigid muscle control to navigate. It favored those of lighter weight, and Adria beat him to the top—and to the ring ladder that tested upper-body strength. He was much stronger than her by any measure, and they were neck and neck again by the time they reached the final set of rings.

Dropping to the firm ground, he made his way through the dark and narrow tunnel built to provide no purchase for claws and nails, its walls seeping a slick gel that frustrated forward movement. He’d created the obstacle, but he was swearing by the time he got to the end—beside an Adria who had tendrils of jet black hair stuck to her temples and cheeks, and then they were wiping off the gel and scrambling across the jungle gym.

Focusing only on navigating the complex structure, he shut out the presence of the woman he could still taste, still feel clenching so tight and liquid on his fingers. He’d always known he would one day take a lover. Lisette—a near-blinding stab of pain—was happily married, would never belong to him. It was a truth nothing could change, and he’d understood he’d have to accept that before it destroyed him.

But he wasn’t ready yet.

Even if he had been, he’d always assumed the woman with whom he ended his celibate existence would be warm, affectionate, someone who understood the wound that was his heart.

Not a near stranger who might as well have been a razor blade.

His arms aching, he came down on his feet after successfully reaching the end of the jungle gym and looked back to see Adria hanging on to a section that had fallen in, courtesy of the random algorithm that had almost dumped him on his ass halfway through. There was no way she’d catch up to him now, but teeth gritted, she pulled herself back and onto the top of the structure.