Nalini Singh: Play of Passion

Shit. Andrew looked at Indigo, saw the same realization on her face. Hawke’s lack of participation would do as much damage as his being hurt.

After that, it took only twenty minutes to put together a team. Indigo, Andrew, D’Arn, Riaz, and six other soldiers would go with Hawke, while Riley would organize a team to protect the den just in case. “Where’s Judd?” Riley asked.

“Down,” Indigo answered, “but that’s as well. We can’t risk exposing him—not unless it’s absolutely necessary.” As far as the rest of the world—especially the PsyNet—was concerned, the entire Lauren family was long dead.

Riley gave a swift nod. “I’ve let Mercy know what’s happening. She’ll get the word out to the cats that there might be trouble in the city, too.”

Grabbing high-powered weapons, they streamed out of the den and toward the area that looked to be the focal point of activity. The three SnowDancer sentries who’d detected the intrusion were already in position.

But the Psy had learned from their earlier mistakes when coming up against keen changeling senses. They teleported in just as the changeling group began to crest a rise at least a ten-minute walk from the site of the reported incursion.

The black-garbed men were shooting with high-impact projectile weapons as they appeared, the bullets designed to hit hard and splinter inside the body, ensuring the shrapnel would ricochet within walls of flesh, causing severe organ damage.

The SnowDancer group was directly in the line of fire.

“Down!” Hawke’s callcame as he twisted out of the way of a bullet, slamming D’Arn out of the way of another.

No one was hit in the first volley as they used bursts of changeling speed to find cover, but Andrew felt a hard punch across his mind an instant later. His natural mental shield protected him from brain damage, but his ears rang—and he knew the shield wouldn’t protect him if the Psy paused long enough to concentrate the blast of telepathic power.

Which meant the changelings couldn’t allow them time to focus.

Leaving the sharpshooting to the marksmen in the group, Andrew circled out and around the Psy in the early evening gloom, sensing more than seeing two other SnowDancers melt away into the forest to do likewise. The Psy spun around, attempting to pick them off in the trees. But this was wolf territory, and Andrew didn’t even need to look to see where he was going.

Not bothering to strip, he shifted into wolf form. And waited. When the Psy who’d trained his gun on the trees finally decided he’d killed what awaited within and turned, Andrew made his move, streaking out to sink his teeth into the man’s throat. He’d ripped out that throat and was gone before the Psy’s colleague noticed how far his partner had ventured from the tight formation of the attacking group. Even when they did notice the fallen male, a lone man turned to protect their flank.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And it didn’t have to do with the fact that they were unmistakably only interested in Hawke—even to the extent of leaving themselves open to enemy fire. A moment later, he heard gunshots from the other side. Somehow, in spite of the security beyond, the Psy had flanked them, pinning the SnowDancers.

The human half of Andrew might’ve sworn, but the wolf thought only in terms of turning the tables on this threat. Running to a better position, he saw Hawke, Riaz, and D’Arn standing back-to-back, holding off the Psy with well-placed bullets from weapons of their own. Indigo was gone, as were Elias, Sing-Liu, and a couple of others, and he knew Hawke had spun them off to deal with the group approaching from the other side.

The two other wolves who’d shifted had stayed behind, and Andrew saw one of them dart out and take down another Psy soldier when the man lowered his guard. A shot rang out and the wolf disappeared back into the trees, but the Psy male was already dead or dying, his throat so much meat.

Good. One less enemy to worry about.

As Andrew shimmied forward on his belly, having crept up behind another Psy attacker, he scented D’Arn’s nose start to run. The mental assaults were beginning to get through. Seeing that his prey had moved far enough away from the main group to be vulnerable, Andrew bunched his muscles, ready to take him out. But then he noticed the man in the center. He was shooting, but only enough to cover himself, most of his attention seeming to be on looking at Hawke . . . as if he was sending through a visual transmission.

Andrew realized what was about to happen a fraction of a second before another Psy teleported in directly in front of his alpha. Even Hawke’s superhuman speed couldn’t have avoided a bullet at that range. But Andrew had jumped toward Hawke in the split second between realization and the appearance of the assassin.

The bullet felt like a fucking anvil thrust into his abdomen, bloodying his fur and sending him crashing into Hawke and the others. His alpha went down, but didn’t stay in place, rolling with Andrew to take up a more secure position behind a tree, Riaz and D’Arn doing the same on the other side. “Stay with me, Drew,” Hawke ordered, putting pressure on Andrew’s gushing wound. “If you die, Indigo will fucking skin me.”

Andrew, his body starting to shut down, kept his eyes open long enough to see the Psy fall. They’d left themselves too open in focusing on their charge toward Hawke and now had no cover. Riaz took down two, D’Arn another. Two of the Psy managed to teleport out. That left three. Keeping pressure on Andrew’s wound with his knee, Hawke steadied his arms and took aim. He shot the closest Psy operative in the kneecaps. As the target collapsed, Hawke took aim at the man next to the fallen Psy, his mouth grim, blood streaking his chest from Andrew’s wounds.

But before Hawke could shoot, the second man turned his gun on his colleague and drilled a bullet through the injured male’s skull. Hawke’s bullet took him out a second later. The last man fell to a shot from Riaz.

Silence.

Indigo, Andrew thought as his chest spasmed, as blood began to pour out of his mouth, where was Indigo?

A rush of scent an instant later, of windstorms cut by steel.

His soul sighed in peace. His eyes closed.

Indigo felt herheart stop. “No, no!” Falling beside the severely injured wolf, she replaced Hawke’s hands with her own.

“Judd,” Hawke said, his gaze icy with control. “He can fix—”

“He wasn’t just sleeping when we left—he was unconscious,” Indigo said, throwing Hawke her new sat phone. “See if he’s awake.”

Hawke made the call, and she knew from his bleak expression that Judd remained unconscious. His powers to use telekinesis on the cell level, literally putting shattered bodies back together, would take time to regenerate after his recent trip.

Time Drew didn’t have.

“Lara,” Indigo said, determined not to lose this wolf who’d chased, charmed, and played his way into her heart. “We need to get him to Lara.”

Hawke didn’t bother to tell her that Drew was too badly injured, that they’d never be able to get him down to the den in time. He simply slipped his arms beneath the heavy body of the wolf and said, “Hold him here.”

Hold him here.

Her wolf didn’t hesitate. It dropped even its innermost barriers, and Indigo’s heart, her soul went wide open. For an instant, nothing happened, and she wanted to keen in agony. It wasn’t fair. He was hers! A mate could hold her other half to life, could will him to live.

Then untrammeled power slammed into her with such force that she went to her knees, her mind crashing with pain that wasn’t hers as the mating bond snapped into place. “I’ve got him,” she said, holding on to Drew’s fading spirit with steely hands. “I’ve got you, Drew. Don’t you dare make me fall in love with you and then leave. I’ll hunt you down in the afterlife if I have to.”