Page 97 of Storm Echo

“I caught a glimpse of the memory when you told me about how your mother used to tickle you.”

Of course he’d remembered that, because he remembered everything about her. Now, holding her from behind, he rubbed his face against the side of hers. “You’re right about one thing—the situation has changed. I’ll talk to Grandmother. You can meet her, too.”

A fleet of butterflies in her stomach. “I’m ready.” No, she wasn’t, but she’d fake it until she made it.

Five minutes later, Ivan told her he’d set the meeting for six thirty that evening, on the heels of when Salvador would be heading home with the cubs. Sal had told her in advance that they’d promised to have dinner with Yariela, so they wouldn’t be staying to eat.

“Yariela said she’d have invited you,” he’d said, a smile in his tone, “but then she heard that it’ll be your first night in your new aerie with your mate and told me to make sure the cubs and I didn’t hang around too long.” The affectionately teasing tone of a packmate.

Oh, how she’d missed these small interactions, all of them part of the larger tapestry of being a member of a pack. “Talking of hearing things,” she’d said in turn, “how was your date, hmm?”

Salvador’s blush had been apparent in his voice. “I’ll tell you all about it when I come over.”

That time arrived all too soon, and Soleil yelped at the realization that she still had no panties. Ripping open the relevant package, she picked the thinnest pair, then ran into the bathroom to handwash them. At some point, Ivan, who’d been on a call, came over to see what she was doing. “Why,” he said, “are you using a hair dryer to dry those?”

She ran the long flat stick over the lacy panties she was holding in one hand. “Because I don’t want to wear wet panties!”

“I thought changelings weren’t troubled by nudity.”

“I’m not worried about Sal and the cubs, but we’re heading to see your grandmother straight after and I amnotmeeting her without panties!”

Arms folded over the casual short-sleeved black shirt he’d changed into, he leaned against the doorjamb. “Grandmother is a woman of many talents, but she doesn’t have x-ray vision.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She willed the stupid thing to dry; it was a damn itsy bit of lace she’d bought in an Ivan-induced sensual fugue. “I’llknow.”

“I’ll just tell her you had a wardrobe malfunction.”

Her head all but swiveled on her neck.“What!”Then she felt it, the ripple along the mating bond that was Ivan Mercant teasing her.

She pointed the dryer at him. “I will get you. Later. After I dry these damn panties.”

Someone, somewhere had mercy on her and the lace was dry enough to wear comfortably by the time she had to scramble down the tree to meet the cubs. Ivan was already there, having carried down the cookies for her, as well as a closed bottle of chilled milk. He’d then done a second run to grab the glasses and a picnic blanket that he’d already spread out by the time she—and her panties—made it down.

His eyes went straight to the spot between her thighs.

Heat blazed on her cheekbones.“Behave.”

No smile, but his eyes warmed, and she felt it again, that ripple in the mating bond that told her Ivan Mercant would one day laugh. He had wickedness in him, her mate, just didn’t know how to show it on the outside yet.

All they needed was time.

Swallowing hard, she looked to the right. “I can hear them.” Small excited rustles as the cubs ran toward her, Salvador’s stride more measured and calm.

Then there they were, two tiny ocelots so excited to see her again that they pounced right into her arms. Laughing, she kissed and snuggled their small, warm bodies, meeting Salvador’s gaze over their heads. Her packmate had come in human form, a bag slung over his shoulder.

Dark-skinned and of medium height, his build stocky, he had the softest brown eyes in the universe—and they were wet at that instant. “Leilei, it really is you,” he whispered, dropping the bag to the side to hug her, the cubs happily squished in between them.

Her cat keened inside her, so happy to see him, scent him, that it was overwhelmed. She wanted to shift but didn’t want to drop the cubs to do so, and she was wearing a pretty new dress that Ivan had chosen when she’d asked his opinion while deciding between two options.

It was all wonderfully too much.

When they broke apart at last, Salvador’s eyes went immediately to Ivan, who’d been standing quietly by the tree. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” He wiped away his tears, his eyes sliding shyly away from Ivan’s in the way of a submissive who’d come face-to-face with an unfamiliar dominant. “I should’ve said hello.”

“I would be the same with a lost member of my family,” Ivan said, her mate who understood how much such bonds could mean. “I’m Ivan. You must be Salvador.”

And though Soleil knew Ivan wasn’t a toucher, he held out his hand so Salvador could shake it, a gentle introduction designed to put a tactile-natured changeling at ease. She knew without asking that he would’ve tempered the strength of his handshake to echo Sal’s.

Some people would see that as manipulation, but Soleil knew her mate. He’d done it so that Salvador—a member of her family—would feel comfortable around Ivan. Because that mattered to Soleil … and because Ivan Mercant was a protector at heart, a hero who’d never apply the label to himself.

---