Tangle of Need (Psy-Changeling #11)(23)

Nodding, Elias made another note, then the group took care of a couple of other matters before breaking up. Drew walked over to discuss their joint task as the others ambled out. “You got time now to scout a location and talk about how we want to run the first session?”

“Yes.” Walking out beside him, she grabbed an apple from the bowl by the door.

Drew’d already taken a bite of his by the time she polished it on her shirt and bit in. The crunch was satisfying, the sweetness refreshing, the air outside the den a cool caress. As a partner, Drew was flexible and intelligent, and they had no problems mapping out a strategy for the lesson.

That lesson, when it rolled around the next afternoon, went down like a house on fire. Surrounded by her peers, dirty and dusty and sweaty, she felt a sense of absolute rightness. This was home.

Nothing and no one was going to push her out.

SIENNA went to avoid Riordan’s kick, but knew she’d moved a fraction of an instant too late. She winced at the whack she was undoubtedly about to get to the ribs except … nothing happened. Blinking, she realized he’d pulled the kick. Nothing wrong with that—she did it herself all the time in training, because the aim wasn’t to beat your fellow combatants bloody, but to teach and test one another. The only problem was, Riordan should’ve still tapped her hard enough that she’d remember her error.

Something hot and dark and infuriated boiled in her blood. “What was that?” she demanded, halting the session.

“What?” He shoved a hand through his chocolate-dark curls.

“That excuse for a kick.”

“You stopped us to critique me?” He scowled. “You can do that after—let’s get back to it before I go gray.”

Already stressed over the mating ceremony the following day, Sienna was not in the mood for male wolf bullshit. “How about I incinerate your hair so you don’t have to worry about that?” It just slipped out.

She waited for fear to fill eyes that had always looked at her with friendly affection, stomach curdling at her error—she’d playfully threatened Hawke with singed eyebrows, but had been so careful not to remind the rest of the pack of what she was. But instead of fear, all she got was an “aw shucks” grin and a shrug. “I figured you wouldn’t want to be bruised for your big day tomorrow.” Charming eyes, big and brown and guileless.

It almost made sense. Except now that she thought about it, she realized he’d done the same thing during their last training session—only he’d been a bit more cunning about it, grazing her so she knew she’d been “hit.” However, in spite of his boyish charm, Riordan was a dominant. The more she pushed him to admit what he’d been up to, the more intractable he’d get. “Okay,” she said with a smile she hoped didn’t betray her bloodthirsty mood. “Thanks. Ready?”

He dropped back into the correct stance.

Not giving any warning, she went at him full tilt—her foot connected hard with his ribs, her elbow with his jaw, her fist with his stomach. She did keep her blows away from his pretty face, since he had a date for the ceremony. However, when he blocked her moves but made no aggressive ones of his own, she narrowed her eyes and went to kick him upside the head, which, if it connected, would surely create a nice big black-and-blue bruise down one side of his face.

“Fuck!” Slamming up a hand, he gripped her ankle the instant before she would’ve made contact with his skull and flung her away and to the ground, coming down on top of her an instant later, his much heavier body pinning hers facedown on the mat. “You trying to kill me?” It was a growl.

Instead of replying and though he’d knocked all the air out of her, she went to slam her head back into his face. He jerked out of the way with another brutal word, setting her free. Pressing up to take a seated position on the mat, she raised an eyebrow at Riordan when he gave her a distinctly wary look from where he sat on the other side. “Oh, sorry,” she said with sweetness that would’ve done a candy bar proud, “were we only pretending to train?”

Another growl, this one harsh and from the chest. “You’re my alpha’s mate,” he snapped out with a raw anger she’d never before witnessed in him. “My wolf can’t hurt you.”

It knocked the air out of her all over again. She’d been so focused on how packmates would feel about her now that they knew of the cold fire, she hadn’t really considered the more direct effect of her relationship with Hawke—especially since her closest friend, Evie, had been so easy about it. But the fact was, she wasn’t just Sienna Lauren, novice soldier and Riordan’s friend anymore. She was Sienna Lauren Snow, mate to the SnowDancer alpha.

Stunned by the far-reaching implications of Riordan’s statement, it took her several long seconds to formulate her reply. “An alpha can be challenged,” she said slowly, “so lower-ranked soldiers can get aggressive toward him, and by extension, his mate.”

Sighing, Riordan fell backward, until he lay flat on his back. “Do you know what Hawke would do to me if I hurt you?”

“Not if the injury happened in this context.” No matter his protectiveness, Hawke would never get in the way of her development and growth as a soldier. He’d taken her to the mat more than once when he thought she was getting lazy with her physical training—not to mention, he was the one who’d thrown her into that physical training in the first place.