Judd went to race after her . . . only to be brought down hard by a grip on his ankle. All the air in his lungs exploded from his mouth as he went chest-down right into the spot the pups had made their impromptu mud-creation zone. When he looked back, it was to see a certain blue-eyed wolf smirking at him. “Remember that time you used telekinesis on me?” Drew said. “I decided I’m still holding a grudge.”
Judd took a breath then unstuck himself from the mud by pushing up onto his hands.
Drew tightened his grip.
And Judd took a leaf from Ben’s book of mischief. The pup was a master at innocent misdirection. Judd’s misdirection wasn’t so innocent. “Indigo’s on the ground,” he said after pretending to look to the other end of the White Zone. “I think Hawke’s making her eat grass.”
Drew’s hold grew slack as his head snapped in the direction Judd had been looking. “What?” It was a growl. “Where?”
Breaking free before the tracker could figure out Judd was lying through his teeth, Judd followed his mate’s scent into the forest beyond the clearing of the White Zone. She’d made good use of her head start, but while she was a wolf, he was an Arrow. He was also teleport-capable. He didn’t cheat though, staying on foot and using only the tracking skills he’d learned since becoming a real part of SnowDancer rather than simply existing within the pack.
When he caught Brenna, it was because she’d paused to take a rest by a large, deep pond. It had a mirrorlike surface kissed by sunlight and surrounded by purple blooms with yellow hearts as well as by tiny white wildflowers that reminded him of daisies, the mountain flora having adapted to survive at this altitude. Careful to stay upwind so she wouldn’t catch his scent, he crept up behind her.
“Judd!” she screamed as he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his muddy face against the side of hers, his equally muddy chest sticking to the back of her wet shirt.
He wasn’t expecting her to hook her foot around his legs, unbalance him. They fell into the pond together, came up spluttering.
Splashing water at him, Brenna grinned. “Serves you right.”
“I needed to wash off the mud anyway.” Going under, he scrubbed his face clean before coming back up and hauling her close with one arm around her waist. Her body was softly curved and lithely muscled both—Brenna was a tech rather than a soldier, but aside from her lupine love of running under the moonlight, she attended certain compulsory training sessions alongside fellow packmates who weren’t submissive, but who weren’t dominant enough that a protective security role in the pack was a driving force.
They had the combat training so they could provide backup should SnowDancer suffer an assault that broke through the ranks of aggressive dominants. The training was intense and regular, and it satisfied the dominance of the wolf within while permitting Brenna to continue to work in another field.
Because her true asset was her dazzling mind.
“How was the meeting?”
“Good. The university wants me to teach a class.”
Judd felt no surprise. Young though she was, Brenna was at the forefront of her field, her ideas cutting-edge. “You want to?”
“I’m considering it.” Mind clearly on other matters, she smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist, having already linked her arms loosely around his neck. “Do you think we’re far enough away from the White Zone not to be interrupted?”
He knew that tone in her voice, slightly husky and soft at the same time. His body responded as if it had been conditioned. Unlike the brutal suffocation of Silence, however, this conditioning was chosen, was wanted.
Gripping her lush lower curves, he opened to the kiss she claimed, felt his erection harden further as she licked her tongue against his. His hands flexed on her, his body hers to command. His mate had taught him pleasure after a lifetime of cold discipline engendered by torture that had forever ended his childhood, and now he craved that pleasure. Craved her. Only with Brenna could he be this man, a man who demanded and gave and who sank into sensation.
Sliding one hand up her back, he was about to deepen the kiss when he heard voices, felt the thunder of pounding feet. He broke the kiss just in time to witness an invasion, as all the adults who’d been in the White Zone jumped into the pond en masse, most with loud whooping and hard splashes. Brenna threw back her head and laughed as she was splashed, broke free to splash back. Judd watched her grin, watched her sparkle . . . and he played.
It was no longer a foreign experience.
As he stole a kiss from his mate a few minutes later, he hoped his friend Xavier would have the same chance at happiness, that he’d find his Nina. Of the three of them who had come together to form their own small rebel cell—Judd, Kaleb, Xavier—the priest was undeniably the only one who was good to the core of his soul. He might’ve struggled, might’ve looked into the screaming depths of the abyss, but Xavier Perez had never fallen into that darkness. He deserved joy, deserved to find the love he’d lost under a hail of bloody telepathic strikes over nine years earlier.
Good luck, my friend.
Letters to Nina
From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez
July 8, 2073
Nina,
I’m sitting surrounded by the phantom image of what was once our village. A bare three months since the Psy attack and there’s nothing here anymore. The bodies are all gone, as are the houses. No sign remains of the vibrant place that was our home.