Page 79 of Storm Echo

That was when he saw the predator in her, the ocelot that could be a stealthy hunter, primal and deadly. She wasn’t rational right now, wouldn’t listen to reason. Aware he had very little time left, he didn’t push it. She’d be forced to face the truth when the time came—and by then, he’d find a way to make her promise to snap their bond.

His entire body went cold at the idea of her being linked to him when he shut down. If she’d been with him on the island, then the bond was deep enough to wrench her into the abyss with him. She’d fall where she stood, her mind locked in the cold dark with his own.

No. He would not allow that. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, swallowing his dread at the thought of her light just blinking out from the world.

Still glaring at him, arms folded mutinously, she said, “I want your grandmother’s number.”

“No.”

“Scared that we’ll rip off your head together?”

Ivan might not have any knowledge of relationships, but he knew when he was being hunted, being driven into a corner where his stalker would pounce. “We’ll discuss this later,” he repeated. “Right now, I need to share what I learned on the island, see if there’s anything that can be done for those trapped minds.”

Soleil frowned, the black cloud of her hair sliding over her shoulder as she bent her head in thought. “You’re right, but you’re also being squirrelly. Never mind. I can be patient.”

Ivan had never in his life been described as “squirrelly.” Arwen would collapse in laughter if he heard. But Ivan would take it for now if it would get Soleil’s mind off the perilous track of getting in touch with his grandmother. Because he knew Ena; she’d agree with Soleil, would want to save him.

“You contact who you need to contact,” Soleil said right then, leaving the bed—and her position straddling him.

He immediately missed the warmth of her, the feel of her, her touch.

A glance at him, anger still sparking in those wild eyes, but she leaned in, cupped his cheek … and kissed him with ferocious possessiveness. “I’m still mad,” she said after she broke the kiss that had downed him more effectively than any punch. “You also need more food, more fuel—I love those cheekbones but they’re about to cut your skin.” She looked around his room. “Is there more food in the kitchenette?”

When he shook his head, she said, “Then I guess we’re going out to a restaurant.” The words were more a command than a suggestion. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed, use that time to call the cubs and Abuela Yari. Meet you downstairs.” An instant later, she’d picked up her pink bag and was gone, this woman whose shattered body he’d picked up and carried in his arms once upon a time.

The roles had very definitely been reversed.

Rising, he had a one-minute shower because he’d sweated during that nightmare walk on the island. He also used the time to think about who he should contact about the situation on the island—this wasn’t a case of passing on intel to the family, who’d then share it. As the only one who’d stepped on the island, he’d need to handle this himself.

He was still thinking on the situation after he got out and changed into a pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt, over which he threw on the black blazer Arwen had gifted him. He wanted Soleil to see him how he could be, civilized and sophisticated. He wasn’t only the rough assassin who she’d always met.

Only when he was walking down the stairs after sending a quick message did he realize that he was severely overdressed. In his desire to impress her, he’d gotten it all wrong.

Chapter 38

Kaleb, I have information you need to know: in summary, I can get on that new PsyNet island. Are you aware of the current situation on the ground there?

—Message from Ivan Mercant to Kaleb Krychek (9:00 a.m.)

SOLEIL LOOKED UP, able to sense Ivan walking down the steps even though he was preternaturally silent for a Psy. You’d have thought he was a cat if you didn’t know better.

All the air punched out of her chest at first sight of him. His hair was damp and finger-combed, his body clad in jeans and a black shirt over which he’d thrown on a blazer. He wore the same boots as yesterday. Overall, he looked like he’d walked out of a fashion magazine.

And the way he looked at her …

She glanced away, then back. Furious though her cat was with him, she adored him, too, and that was never going to change. He was in her, Ivan Mercant, and she’d have it no other way.

And now she knew what he looked likeunderthe clothes, too. She’d do anything to have a chance to kiss each and every tattoo, explore every single inch of that honed body.

Her thighs clenched.

Cheeks hot all over again, she went to open the door. And heard a slight rustle at her back. When she glanced over, she saw that he’d taken off his blazer and hung it over the newel post at the end of the staircase. Odd, but she could’ve almost said that there was a sense of discomfort about him.

“I liked the blazer,” she found herself saying.

He hesitated, looked at her as if trying to read the truth of her statement. But then he put it back on. Her heart thudded, something small and soft inside her getting stronger, more intense.

Be careful with him, little sister. He might look tough, but when strong men fall, they fall all the way. You’re his weakness.

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