Page 54 of Storm Echo

—Valentin Nikolaev, alpha of StoneWater, to Silver Mercant, director of EmNet

IVAN HAD KEPT his breathing even by sheer force of will until Soleil reappeared in the doorway through which she’d exited the kitchen. He’d known she was safe, was still inside the house, but he wanted her close to him when she spoke to Lucas Hunter.

Then there she was, dressed once again in borrowed clothing, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and her eyes coming directly to him. Ocelot eyes, her humanity still only a surface skin, the cat at the forefront.

Rising to his feet, he said, “Are you all right?” It was an inane question and Ivan didn’t ask such questions. Except he just had, his need to look after her a burn in his blood.

“I’m perfect.” Her gaze went to the four children at the counter, her face soft.

The twins had remained in their human forms, while the two ocelot cubs had stayed in cub form. All, however, were gathered together, huddled around a plate of cookies as well as two glasses of water—and two shallow bowls of the same.

Scratching one cub’s head, Tamsyn had said, “Your tummies won’t have room for milkandcookies since I happen to know that some small people in this kitchen already had dessert tonight.”

The twins had grinned, while the ocelot cubs had butted Tamsyn’s hand for more scratches and pets.

Ivan had watched the scene with a quiet fascination; he’d never thought about the small things that would be different in a changeling household. Never thought that when a child was in animal form, they’d prefer to drink from a bowl instead of a glass. Of course a loving home would have accommodations for either form.

To a changeling, they were both parts of the whole. It was only the Psy who so often thought in strictly limited terms, as if the world could be squared off into neat boxes. But that structured world was also the one in which Ivan knew how to exist, how to function—rules had been a necessary lifeline for a boy who’d been half-feral by the time he came to Ena Mercant’s attention.

“I don’t know what to do,” he’d said to her as she walked him to his first lesson with a tutor, the corridor around them bright and clean in the sunshine pouring through the large windows to one side. “Mama’s man said I was stupid.”

Ena’s silvery blue eyes on him. “Yet he is the one who ended up dead in the morgue from a drug overdose.” She’d paused, held his gaze. “You are a very clever child, Ivan. Never allow the words of others to steal your worth—always remember that it is the weak and cowardly who attempt to devalue others. The strong uplift without fear, share their knowledge to help others grow.”

Ivan had thought then of how Grandmother had taught him to use a knife and fork, how she’d told him that he didn’t have to hoard food, that he could always get more from the kitchen, and how she’d instructed him to put his dirty clothes in the laundry chute.

It had been so hard for him to let go of those precious possessions. He’d only really believed they’d come back to him when he found them ironed and placed on his bed for him to put away. The same day, he’d gone back for a second serving of breakfast and no one had ordered him to stop. Cousin Canto, who’d told Ivan he’d just “escaped” the infirmary after an operation, had even winked and put extra dried fruits on top for him—because he knew they were Ivan’s favorite.

Ivan had realized he could trust Grandmother to tell the truth. “I can’t be clever if I don’t know what to do,” he’d pointed out, trying to make her see. “I only know how to be theotherIvan.” The one from his life before Grandmother, before a kitchen stocked with food, and a bedroom full of sunlight where no one touched his things.

A long pause before Grandmother’s face became hard in a way that he’d already learned wasn’t about him. “Of course,” she’d murmured that day. “Very well. I shall teach you how to behave in specific situations, give you the tools to handle them as they arise—they will give you structure as you adapt to your new life.”

Ivan had long ago adapted—but he still preferred structure. It was why he’d never quite fit into Silver’s pack, though the bears had welcomed him as a relative of their beloved Silver Mercant. He saw the bears’ generosity and warmth of heart, understood the incalculable value of such beings—but he’d rather shoot himself in both feet than live in the midst of that joyous chaos.

Soleil was a changeling, too, her world as primal.

Ivan would’ve never fit into her world, either.

Hand fisting on his thigh and a film of ice over his chest, he watched Soleil with quiet focus as she went to stroke the cubs’ fur and steal a cookie from the plate, the children giggling at her attempts at stealth.

Just when he thought she’d forgotten him, she glanced over, a look in her eye that he couldn’t read … but then he felt the swipe of a cat’s claws in his mind. Not painful. Just a … flexing.

A reminder that he was marked.

Ivan stared at her, wondering if he’d tipped over the edge without noticing and was now living in a delusion. Even if he was, he didn’t care. So long as she saw him, saw the ghost who was Ivan Mercant.

Everything Ivan had done since Grandmother brought him home, everything he’d become, he’d done within the boundaries of his family. Not because they’d asked him to—but because those ties were the only solid things in his life. If he wasn’t a Mercant, he was nothing.

Until Soleil, he’d never wantedanythingfor himself.

He knew that the visceral depth of his need was a sign of increasing volatility. It was hot, unstable. And when Soleil walked toward him, it got hotter, even less stable.

Dangerous, so dangerous.

He was conscious of Nathan moving away to talk to Tamsyn, could still hear the children’s chatter, but it was all background noise. He should’ve stepped back, created space between them. Yet when she lifted a hand, he lowered his head a fraction … and she pushed his hair back from his forehead.

Thief. Thief. Thief.

Ivan ignored the whispers of his conscience. He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to savor what might be the last physical contact he ever had with her … but there was no more time. Moving with an assassin’s grace as the alpha of DarkRiver entered the room, Ivan tried to put Soleil behind him. A small growl before she poked him in the side with her claws, then shifted to stand at his side.

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