“Holding Hawke’s gaze in a way that not many men could, Walker said, “You will be good to her.” Not a statement, but an order. Hawke’s wolf stirred. “Do you think I’d be otherwise?” “If I did, you’d be dead.”

“So, you tumbled that wolf you were with?” Mercy was too much a pack animal to take offense at the personal question. She grinned. “How did you know it was me?” “Do I look senile to you?”...“Yes,” Mercy said. “And I'm not doing it again.” If she kept telling herself that, maybe her traitorous body would actually notice and shut up with its demands. The older woman gave her a sour look. “Damn shame. What, you like them prettier?” A snort. “In my day, we liked men who looked like men.”

“You said I could pet you as long as I liked.” “Didn't say I wouldn't try to fuck you in the middle of the petting.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “That's feline logic. You're a wolf.” “I'm learning from the best.”

“Ah baby, you know I do what I want.” Rubbing his chin on her hair, he squeezed her hip. “Man and wolf, we both adore you. No way am I letting you go after the hell you’ve put me through over the years.”

“Once— and most of the night definitely counts as once—you can write off as a mistake. But you do this again and he's going to start thinking he has rights over you.” She knew predatory changeling men. They liked control. They particularly liked their women to submit. And Riley was one big giant hunk of testosterone-fueled Neanderthal wolf—he probably thought her submission was his right. She snorted. “Not in this lifetime.”

“I’ll get you another red dress.”She wiped the backs of her hands over her cheeks at the snarl. “You will?”He glared down at her. “Yes. But you must not cry. I won’t get you any dresses if you cry.”“I don’t normally cry.”“You will never do it.”“Well, I’m afraid I may sometimes,” she said apologetically. “Women need to cry.”Lines formed between his brows. “How many times in a year?”“Maybe five or six,” she said, thinking about it. “But really, it’s usually a very small cry and not in front of anyoneAt that, his scowl grew even darker. “I will permit you to cry four times a year. And you will do it when I am here.”

“Brenna was fixing some kind of a small computronic device when he found her in her quarters. “Judd,” she said, putting down her tools. “You can’t be here. The dissonance—”He interrupted her panicked words. “I need to ask you something important.”“What could be more important than your life?” She sounded close to tears.“Your life. If you die, I don’t know if I’d stay sane.” A simple truth.”