Page 67 of Storm Echo

Her hand jerked up, touched the strands. “I got paint in it today.” No, not today. A long time ago, when she’d still had a family of her own, including a mother who’d delighted in allowing her to play wild. “My mother let me do anything I wanted.”

“So did mine.”

Cracks of silver across his face, across the world, across the dream, until the entire thing was a fractured pane of mirrored glass, and she was falling, falling …

Soleil jerked awake on a gasp, her heart thunder and her mouth dry. Looking around with wild eyes, she half expected that very lifelike dream boy to be standing next to her. But he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t. He was a man now. A very dangerous man who her cat had claimed. “Mine,” she murmured. “Mine.”

Pushing her braid over her shoulder, she reached for the glass of water she’d put on the bedside table. It was only after she’d gulped it down that her eyes registered the time on the vintage bedside clock.

It was six in the morning. She’d fallen asleep at midnight.

Six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Well, but for the dream—but that had been more unsettling than terrifying. And there was something …

Narrowing her eyes, she rolled the dream backward, and there it was, the most important fragment of memory from what she thought of as her lost month. Heart thudding, she pushed off the blanket and got out of bed.

She didn’t know what she was expecting when she looked in the mirror in the attached bathroom, but her hair was still black and she was still an adult of twenty-seven years of age, and she still had a face that was too thin. She used to have rounded cheeks and generous curves. These days, she was just bones held together by skin, and it wasn’t a good look on her. Her Psy could pull off razor cheekbones, but Soleil’s body was made for softness.

HerPsy.

Yes.

Determined to figure things out between them today, she got naked and walked into the shower. Afterward, she released her hair from the braid, brushed it out, then dressed in the same pants as last night. She paired them with a fine wool sweater in bright fuchsia.

“One of the juveniles left it behind the last time she visited and I washed it for her and set it aside,” Tamsyn had told her. “I know she won’t mind if you borrow it.”

It was the brightest color Soleil had worn in the time since the massacre. Making a note to give some kind of gift to the juvenile in thanks when she had the means to do so, she opened her bedroom door; instinct and need had her padding across to the cubs’ room. All four lay on the futon in a happy pile, the twins on either side of Razi’s and Natal’s curled-up bodies. They were still in the forms in which they’d gone to bed, and appeared in a deep sleep, but Natal stirred a mere second after she touched his fur, his sleepy eyes blinking open.

“Hello, Nattie.” Stroking his head, she kissed his nose, keeping her voice to a low whisper. “I’m going out but I’ll be back later.” She hadn’t wanted to wake either cub but knew she couldn’t simply vanish, not after all that had gone before. “You’ll tell Razi?”

A firm nod before he butted her hand in a silent demand. Laughing softly, she scratched and petted him until he fell back into sleep. He was young, but she thought he’d remember—she also intended to give the cubs a call once they were up, reassure them that nothing was wrong and she was fine.

Heart tight with love, she left the sleeping cubs and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she saw that the coffeemaker had already turned itself on via the timer function.

Inhaling the scent, she set out three mugs, figuring it had to be either Tamsyn or Nathan—or both—who’d be rising soon. That done, she picked up the pretty pink tote-style handbag Tamsyn had given her when she’d asked if she could borrow a bag, and stocked it with the small travel medical kit that Tamsyn had put together for her at her request.

Then she added energy bars, a packet of mixed nuts, a few water-soluble sachets that would get extra calories into her, and a bottle of water—all from the pantry cupboard Tamsyn kept stocked for packmates.

“Grab whatever you need,” she’d told Soleil. “It gets restocked as it’s used up. And feel free to help yourself to any baking I do. Plus, the fruit bowl is a free-for-all. To be honest, my whole kitchen is”—a grin—“exceptfor my special cookies.” A bump of her shoulder against Soleil’s. “Don’t tell anyone but I’ll share with you.”

Smiling at the memory, she added an apple to her impromptu lunch.

Not long afterward, she felt a stirring of power in the air, her cat on alert even before Nathan walked into the room.

“You’re up early,” he said with the slightest brush of his knuckles against her cheek, the touch of a senior member of the pack a thing of welcome to her cat. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Had an odd dream and woke up,” she said past the knot in her chest, taking in his freshly washed hair, jeans, and long-sleeved blue shirt that he’d folded up to the elbows to reveal muscled forearms. “Are you on duty?”

A small nod. “Tammy insists on getting up with me, so she’ll be down soon. Save some room for her pancakes.” The way he spoke of his mate, the quiet love entwined in every word, it made her heart ache with memories poignant and old: her parents had spoken of each other that way, too.

“How else could I snag you for skin privileges without our lovely but incorrigibly curious children poking their noses in?” Tamsyn said as she walked in, her eyes sparkling.

Soleil was sure Nathan blushed before he turned to nip Tamsyn lightly on the ear. The other woman laughed and patted his chest, before kissing his jaw. And Soleil felt the bond between them, strong and enduring and encompassing anyone that came near in its warm radius.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Tamsyn walked over to give Soleil a gentle hug. “Blueberry pancakes?”

Overwhelmed by the protectiveness she felt from them both, Soleil just nodded.

Then she sat in the kitchen and watched the dance of two people who’d been in each other’s lives so long that they spoke without speaking. While Tamsyn cooked, Nathan used a datapad to clear up work that must fall on him as a senior sentinel. Every so often, however, they’d look up and exchange the odd word, or just a smile.

---