"Is he using his position to pressure you?" A frown. "I can't see Coop--"
"No! No, he'd never do that." He might be rough around the edges, bad in a way her sensible side warned her put him way out of her sexual league, and definitely dangerous, but he was also honorable to the core.
"If you want me to stop anytime, anywhere, the only word you ever need to use is 'No.'"
Vivienne nudged her shoulder, one long leg bent at the knee, the foot of the other pressing against the opposite wall. "Then what?"
"I'm a submissive." An obvious, unalterable fact. "Always have been--and I'm happy with my place in the hierarchy." She was needed, her role in SnowDancer no less important than any other. For one, the pups were utterly unafraid of her. In an emergency, she could grab any child and run, knowing that child would cling to her rather than fight.
On a day-to-day basis, and without throwing the dynamite of passion into the mix, Grace and those like her helped their stronger brethren maintain control of their aggressive natures by inciting an intense and often unconscious protectiveness.
Though, from the submissive end, the effect wasn't always by chance.
More than once, Grace had asked an angry and frustrated dominant to assist her in some task she could just as well do herself, aware the influence of her wolf would calm theirs. Such things were part of the rhythm of a healthy pack. Those packs that lost their natural complement of submissives--whether through accidents or a lack of care and respect--and didn't redress the imbalance eventually splintered, the energy in the den turning violent.
"Always remember"--a warm hand stroking over her hair--"as we need their strength to make us feel safe deep inside, the soldiers and other dominants need us to retain their humanity. That's why SnowDancer is such a powerful pack. Because one is not considered more or less than the other."
"But," she continued, heart clenching at the echo of her lost father's gentle voice, "wolves like me don't date packmates as strong as Cooper." Desire altered the rules on a fundamental level, changed the effect her wolf had on his, his on hers, until she could no longer predict how either one of them might react in any given situation.
Vivienne's next words were solemn. "He makes you uncomfortable, doesn't he?"
On the most basic female level. "He's just so overwhelming." So masculine, so primal, so harshly beautiful. Just...so.
"I get that. Coop's not a man who'd ever be an easy kind of lover."
Grace's throat went dry again at the thought of calling Cooper her lover. "It's not only that," she rasped, having to take a sip of water before she could continue. "You remember what I told you? About how part of the reason I accepted the promotion and moved here was because of how overprotective my family was being?" Until wolf and woman both knew it wasn't good for her.
Though she loved her adoptive parents and siblings with all her heart, and knew she was cherished in turn, at times such as this she missed her long-gone "Papa" and "Mama" so much it hurt. Her father had been a submissive, had understood her on a fundamental level, her mother a dominant soldier who'd mated and loved a submissive long enough to have gained an inherent understanding of what her daughter needed to flourish. They'd both recognized that Grace's need to feel safe and secure didn't equal a rigid wall of protection.
"I see your point." Vivienne's voice penetrated the bittersweet memories of the happy, content child she'd been before the pack was drenched bloodred. "As a lieutenant, Coop's pretty much built to protect." Twisting her body, she faced Grace. "If you tell him to back off, he will. I guess everything else aside, the question is--is that what you want?"
"No." An instant and categorical repudiation. Grace couldn't bear the thought of never again feeling the abrasive warmth of Cooper's touch, hearing that caressing note of promise in his voice.
Vivienne's lips curved in a wicked smile. "Then you'd better find a way to deal with the big, bad wolf who wants to have you for his own very personal snack."
A thousand butterflies took flight in Grace's stomach.
*
HE'D scared her.
The soldier in front of Cooper paled under the tanned gold of his skin. "Sir?"
And now he was scaring everyone else. Rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to dislodge his scowl, his thumb brushing over the jagged scar along his left cheek, he said, "The perimeter incursion, you're certain it was just a couple of human kids necking?" Wolf territory was clearly marked, but juveniles the world over had a mysterious ability to see only what they wanted to see.
Daniel nodded, his sandy hair sliding over his forehead. "I caught them myself. Made sure they knew they were trespassing on SnowDancer land, and told them it was the single warning they'd get before we took action." A flash of teeth. "They couldn't get out fast enough."
"Good." Cooper didn't enjoy putting fear in the eyes of teenagers with more hormones than brains, but it had to be done.
SnowDancer's vicious reputation was its first line of defense.
The pack hadn't always been so outwardly aggressive. Their discipline and focus on family, however, had made their enemies believe SnowDancer weak; the ensuing bloodshed had devastated the pack. So many had been lost in the carnage--including Grace's parents.
Never again, thought Cooper.
"Keep an eye out for them," he said to Daniel. "Sometimes kids like to play chicken." Youthful stupidity knew no boundaries, regardless of whether the young were changeling or human.
"I'll alert the other sentries. What should we do if one of us catches them again?"
"Disable their vehicle and call me." SnowDancer had sole jurisdiction on its land. Maybe Enforcement would've challenged that claim once upon a time, but not anymore--not with the world shuddering under the violent weight of a change that was redefining power itself. "I'll walk them out personally."
If the human pups were old enough to neck, they were old enough to know better than to dare a predatory changeling pack. Cooper intended to give the two misbehaving teens the same dressing-down he'd give one of the juveniles under his command should they pull a stupid stunt. "No one's ever come back a third time."
Daniel grinned.
Shoving his hands over the bristling roughness of his scalp after the soldier left, Cooper stared moodily at the view outside his window. While the majority of the den was underground, his office was located on the highest level, tucked into a natural curve of the mountain. The glass was treated so as not to reflect, but it afforded him a good view of the main path up to the den. Bathed in sunshine today, the land beyond was verdant with trees, until you'd never know the Mojave desert sprawled just beyond the distant ridgeline.
He liked being able to keep an eye on things from here, but the lack of windows in the main den didn't bother his wolves--they loved coming home to a snug den, a place where their pups were always protected. Added to that, the tunnels were wide and bathed in simulated daylight and moonlight depending on the time of day, the air-filtration and temperature-control mechanisms fine-tuned to create an effortless transition between the outside and inside.
SnowDancer's scientific arm had been responsible for the original development of the technology, but it was the highly trained systems engineers who maintained and calibrated the interconnected systems on a day-to-day basis. Each could handle most of the minor issues that cropped up from time to time, but they all had their specialties. Grace's expertise was in the simulated natural light so important to the pack's well-being.
His hand fisted, his scowl returning at the reminder of how she'd trembled under his touch. Yes, he could be scary--hell, it was an asset when it came to protecting the pack--but he didn't want to scare Grace. He wanted to pet her, hold her, learn the intricacies of the smart, sexy woman who handled her high-tech tools with the care and elegance of a surgeon...and made him wonder how she'd use those same hands on him. Because he most definitely wanted to coax her to strip off the workmanlike coveralls that drove him wild, and breathe his fill of her scent as he explore
d those incredible, dangerous feminine curves with his body, his mouth.
A curl of wood falling to the floor.
He realized his claws had shot out, carved grooves into the wood of his desk. "Great," he muttered, retracting them into his skin. "If you're trying not to scare a woman, learn to keep your fucking claws in, Cooper." Shoving back from his desk, he strode out of his office, taking the steps that led down into the main core of the den two at a time.
Chapter 3
BETHANY CAUGHT HIM just as he reached the bottom. "Coop, I need to talk to you about the juveniles."
"Whatever they've done," he growled, continuing on toward the exit, "handcuff the lot of them and put them in the brig. I'll spring them in a few years when they're full-grown adults."
"Funny." The short, curly-haired maternal female, her mouth bracketed by laugh lines that told of a life well lived, said, "Some of us remember when you were the worst of the lot. Wasn't it a pink ribbon? Or did you sport the purple and Riaz the pink?"
Wincing, he halted. "You have the memory of an elephant, Aunt Beth."
"It comes in handy when I need blackmail material." Dimples dented her round cheeks, a mischievous expression in the dark, dark eyes that marked them as kin. "Which, in this case, is unnecessary. The juveniles have been good."
"Did you drug their soup?"
She threatened to pull his ear--probably would have if he didn't top her by over a foot. "About fifteen of them joined up to clear that invasive weed that somehow made its way into one of the streams. Spent the whole weekend at it, and as of today, the weed is history. It'd be nice if you could swing by."
"I'll do it now." He glanced at the small comm screen set into the den wall, saw it was almost midday. "Kids had lunch?"
"I took them a couple of baskets." Bethany patted him on the chest. "With enough for a big, strong lieutenant."
"Sometimes I think you take me for granted." Leaning down, he kissed her cheek, the scent of her inciting a keen protectiveness.
It was Bethany who'd taken him in as a grieving, angry sixteen-year-old, enfolding him in love. What she hadn't done was attempt to reverse the sudden adulthood that had been shoved on him that cold, rainy night--because some things couldn't be changed, and the loss of his childhood had been a permanent one.
"However," he added when she stood on tiptoe to smooth his T-shirt across his shoulders, "I'll fall in with your cunning plans."
"You always were a good boy, Cooper, even during your hellion juvenile years." Her smile was an echo of his mother's, caused a familiar ache in his chest. "Now go, before they inhale lunch. You'll be lucky to find a few bones to gnaw on."
The teenagers had in fact resisted the lure of the sandwiches, cake, and fruit, and were checking the final section of the stream with industrious eyes when he arrived. Visibly perking up at his presence, they clustered around to show him what they'd done.
"I'm proud of you," he said after listening to their explanations of the project, his wolf in pleased agreement.
The juveniles beamed, tugged him to another part of the stream.
When two younger kids showed up in pup form a few minutes later, he scooped them up before they could poke their curious noses into the picnic baskets. "Behave or it's back to the nursery with you."
The miscreants pretended to claw him, growling and snarling. Laughing, he tapped their noses in a light reprimand and put them on their feet, where they leaned their small, warm bodies against his legs as he finished speaking to the teenagers. By the time the group sat down to lunch--the two pups shifting form to curl up against him and eat more cake than was good for them--the tension had left his muscles.
Nothing could alter the fact that he was an aggressive dominant, but as the pups and juveniles showed, he had the capacity to earn the trust of even the pack's most vulnerable. It would take time with Grace, the trust he asked of her a piercing intimacy, but Cooper had been called a stubborn bastard more than once. It wasn't an unfair accusation.
And he was determined to seduce, pet, and coax Grace into his arms.
Where he planned to keep her.
All night.
All day.
Always.
*
HALF relieved, half disappointed that she hadn't seen Cooper again since his declaration of courtship, Grace put her tools away in her office, then stripped off her black coveralls to reveal the jeans and sleek black tank she wore underneath. She was hungry after the long day, should've gone home. But pulling on her favorite blue sweater, the fabric fine rather than heavy, she checked her hair and face in the mirror, then turned in the direction of the indoor training arena where she'd heard Cooper was working with some of the novice soldiers.
Seeing the access door up ahead, she used her palm print to get through, then shut it behind her. The good thing about being in systems maintenance was that she knew all of the hidden nooks and crannies of the den. This particular accessway led to another door on the inner wall of the training arena, and that door had a window to ensure maintenance personnel didn't accidentally walk out into a dangerous training situation.
Grace made her way to that window with quick steps, happy to see that it was clean, as mandated by the safety regs. Beyond the glass, it appeared the novices had been split into two teams and were "at war," though she could see kicks being pulled and punches turned into light taps. Still, people occasionally went down--someone was calling points she realized, and a certain number equaled incapacitated or dead.
She saw a disappointed novice go to his knees before her attention was captured by the adult male who came over, hauled the lanky youth to his feet, and proceeded to show him where he'd gone wrong. Cooper's actions were powerful, his expression intent. The younger man nodded, copied the moves Cooper had demonstrated while compensating for his own lighter body mass, and grinned when his intelligence earned him a slap on the back.
Grace couldn't keep her eyes off the lieutenant, a problem she'd had since the day she moved into the den. It was amazing how many times she could find a fault that needed checking right next to where Cooper might be running a training session or working out on his own. Now, she saw him call the battle to a halt, and from the victorious cheer that thundered over the left side of the room, he'd declared a winner. A minute later, the novices cleared the floor to position themselves against the walls.
Into the open space walked a senior soldier who'd been helping to supervise the session. As she watched, Shamus stripped off his T-shirt and threw it aside. She wrenched her head toward Cooper to see if he was doing the same. He was. Rippling muscle under hot, dark silk, a fine pelt of black hair on his chest, his cheeks creased as he laughed at something Shamus had said; he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
Dressed only in cargo pants, their feet bare, the two dominants took position against one another and began to go through a combat routine even Grace could tell was in half time, a teaching aid for the novices. Shamus was well built--sexy, she supposed--but all Grace could see was Cooper, his fluid actions akin to rough music. How might that strong, trained body move in other, far more intimate situations?
Even as her teeth sank into her lower lip, even as her breath caught, her wolf paced, agitated and confused. It reminded her that Cooper's demands would be fierce, his need furious. The possibility that she might not be up to the task of satisfying him made her mood go dark, especially when she finally turned her awareness to the men and women who watched the bout--to see that three other adults had joined the group. All were female, and two of them had their eyes on Cooper.
Grace took careful mental note of their identities. Maybe she'd switch the air in their quarters to freezing, ensure they didn't have any hot water for good measure. The wicked thoughts were gratifying, but nothing came close to seeing Cooper's body flex with predatory grace as he and Shamus stepped it up a notch. It was breathtaking to witness, the dance as primal as it was violent.
Her heart was in her throat when they came to a su
dden, unexpected halt...and Cooper's head whipped around, his eyes locking with Grace's.
*
COOPER shifted his attention back to Shamus after that instant's distraction. He was dead certain he'd caught the finest trace of Grace's scent--peaches, luscious and ripe, intertwined with a softness that was pure, sensual woman.
His woman.
Slamming up a hand to block a kick to the head, he twisted around with a kick of his own. "Full speed," he called, and the two of them went into the final stage of the display, its purpose to demonstrate to the novices how simple moves could be put together to lethal effect.
Afterward, he listened as Shamus questioned the group. They didn't do too badly, and Cooper released the class after pairing them up for a self-practice session the following day. As the novices left, he saw Shamus go over to his math teacher mate. Dark-eyed, black-haired "Ms. Lopez"--as the pups called her--had come in toward the end of the session and now hugged her mate hello, the couple nuzzling one another in wolfish affection.
"I thought you two had a room!" Cooper called out across the training arena.
The newly mated couple grinned before Shamus wrapped one arm around Emma and said, "Green is not a good color on you, Coop. And we're going to that room now, where I plan to do things to Teach you can only dream about in your cold, lonely bed."
Cooper saw Emma slap at Shamus's chest for that shameless boast as the two of them disappeared out the door.
Grinning, he met the laughing gazes of the two senior soldiers who'd come in with Emma. "What did you think?"
Margot was the one who answered, blue eyes dancing. "About Shamus's plans, or the novices?"
Vitoria blew a wild curl out of her eyes, her hair an explosion of bronze and black with the odd thread of unexpected red-blonde. "Scuttlebutt is that Emma was missing at lunch today and so was Shamus."
"I can do you one better." Margot paused for dramatic effect, the sun-golden skin of her face marked by a faint greenish bruise caused by a rogue baseball. "Apparently when Shamus stripped off to shift a couple of hours ago, it was pointed out that he might possibly have carpet burns on his butt."