Page 7 of Storm Echo

“We could do that together.” Ivan just wanted to be with her; the activity was irrelevant. “You can teach me what to look for.”

That strangely familiar tilt to her head, a sparkle in the eyes he could see in the glow thrown off the flashlight. “Meet me at two thirty, then … cutie pie.” She was gone the next second, her laughter lingering behind her.

He dreamed of her that night, woke sweat-slick and with a racing heart at the thought that he’d imagined her. It took pulling up his sweatpants to look at his stitches to convince himself that she wasn’t an illusion. She existed … and she liked him. Enough to spend time with him.

Would she still like him if she knew what he was? If he told her of the thing that lived in his head? Of the damage done to his neural pathways that meant he’d never quite be “normal”?

Chapter 4

User 231i: No one goes after a Mercant and survives. Even if the assassin succeeds in eliminating the mark, the rest of that family would then hunt the assassin with unremitting focus, make their life a constant race for survival. Only an idiot would target them.

User 47x: Can confirm. Remember user 6nvy? Some CEO wanted Ena Mercant out of the picture and 6nvy decided to ignore our advice. Ena is still alive and kicking. Can’t say the same for the CEO, and 6nvy has never again posted here after taking that job. My guess is that they’re six feet under in some remote location, never to be discovered.

—Conversation on anonymous bulletin board reputed to be utilized by mercenaries and assassins (unconfirmed)

WOULD LEI STILL smile at him if he showed her the truth of himself?

Ivan stared at the wall in front of him, his gut tight as he pushed aside the question. He knew the answer and he didn’t want to face it. So he didn’t. Not today. But driven by his increasing panic at the inevitable—because not telling her the truth wasn’t an option—he aced the session that morning, which was about hand-to-hand combat with a highly trained changeling armed with claws and teeth.

He’d watched the wolves the entire time he’d been with them, learned how fast they could move, how flexible they could be—and he utilized all his knowledge against his opponent. When that opponent shifted without warning, coming at him in full wolf form, he handled that, too.

The wolf—Flint—clapped him on the back in the aftermath. “Bloody hell, Ivan. You ever want to join a pack, I think our alpha would happily accept you as a lieutenant.” He wiped off the blood at the corner of his mouth, winced. “At least I got a few claws into you.”

Ivan touched his aching ribs. “More than a few.” It had been far from an easy battle.

Flint’s teeth gleamed, the predator in his eyes pleased. “We’ll do it again in a few days. I’ll be more prepared next time.”

Ivan had zero doubts about that. This was why he was doing the training. Because the teachers were good and pushed both themselves and their students. But he was glad to be away in time to shower, then make his way to the forest clearing to meet Lei.

He wished he’d brought more sophisticated clothing so he could look better for her, but aside from a rough winter jacket, all he had were pairs of basic combat pants, T-shirts, and two sweaters of fine wool.

Not that Lei seemed to notice anything about his clothing when she walked into the clearing. A scowl immediately hitting her face, she put down her basket and ran over to him. “What have you done to yourself?”

He’d forgotten about the black eye until that moment. And the cut on his cheekbone. Oh, and he’d caught a swipe of a claw across his throat now that he thought about it. “Hand-to-hand combat,” he said. “Training.”

“Training?”She sounded like she was gritting her teeth. “You did this on purpose?”

“I need to learn how to handle myself against changelings.”

Shoving back the sleeves of her navy blue cardigan, she put her hands on her hips, against the deep pink of her dress, and glared at him. “Tell me who did this. I want to talk to them about their training methods.”

He had the strange sense that she’d do exactly that, march up and tell Jorge off to his face. So whatever animal she was, it wasn’t one that was scared of wolves. Or of dominants. But he didn’t get an impression of dominance off her—now that he’d been around the wolves long enough, he’d begun to intuit the power differentials. It wasn’t obvious to him as it clearly was to changelings, but it wasn’t opaque, either.

So he could tell that Lei wasn’t a dominant. But neither did she radiate the same feel as a submissive. He’d only met one submissive to date, as the wolves were incredibly protective of their more vulnerable packmates, and this submissive had just been dropping off Flint’s phone, which he’d forgotten at home. But that young male hadn’t met Ivan’s eyes except in short bursts. Hehadmet Flint’s gaze, however, the deep trust between them obvious.

Lei, on the other hand, had never hesitated to look Ivan in the eye. “I’m okay,” he said to her. “It’s all surface wounds.”

Folding her arms, she tapped her foot. “What about the gash on your leg? Did you tear that open?”

He was very glad to be able to say, “No. I got it sealed.” A RockStorm nurse had turned up and done the repair, while marveling at Lei’s neat stitching. “The nurse was very complimentary of your skills.”

She sniffed, her nose a little up in the air. “Hmm.” Then she picked up her basket and they went herb hunting, while the frost of her temper lingered in the air.

Since Ivan had no idea what he was doing, mostly he just watched and listened to her. When she showed him a plant, he looked for it, and had a hundred percent success rate with identifications.

“That’s amazing,” she said an hour later, the frost long thawed. “Your memory must be incredible.”

“Just trained,” he said. “Memory skills come in handy in a family of spies.”

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