Chapter 37

Arwen, when are you planning to introduce me to the bear who is such a bad influence that he led you right into a jail cell?

—Message from Ena Mercant to Arwen Mercant (date unknown)

THEO HAD NEVER worn such clothing in her entire life. She felt exposed—and yet powerful at the same time. In stylistic terms, the dress was simple: a sleeveless and strapless black sheath that shimmered with specks of blue and came less than halfway down her thighs. That was it. That was the entire dress.

When Nina had first offered it to her, she’d taken one look and politely said, “I believe I’ll need a larger size.”

Nina had laughed in a way that invited Theo to share in the joke, rather than making her the butt of it. “I promise it’ll fit.” The club owner had pointed her to a little private cubicle to the side. “You can change in there.”

Still dubious about the stretching capabilities of the fabric, Theo had nonetheless obeyed in an effort not to offend her host. It didn’t take her long to change . . . and find that the dress not only fit, but that it did so like a glove.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a full minute, unable to relate to the Theo who looked back at her. But it was definitely her. Her fingers touched the small scar below her left inner elbow that she’d had as long as she could remember.

Yes, it was her.

But she’d spent her life learning to become invisible. This woman wasn’t invisible. Her eyes were electric lightning, a flush riding her cheeks, and the tamped fury within her a voracious beast that shimmered in the air.

“Theo?” Nina’s distinctive voice. “How is the fit?”

Theo swallowed, ran her hands down the dress, and stepped out of the cubicle.

Nina whistled. “Put down the hair, darling, and you’re done.”

Theo hesitated. The braid she wore was already her most casual look—she stuck to tight knots at the base of her head in the general course of life. But on this strange and stolen night, she did as Nina had directed and allowed her hair to fall around her face and shoulders . . . and felt concealed bindings inside her snap and drop away at the same time.

A part of her knew she should be scared, but all she felt was free.

“Such a wild energy you have under your skin, Theochka.” Nina’s words were an approving purr. “That much-too-good-looking bear of yours will have to fight them off with a stick.”

Heart racing at the thought of Yakov seeing her this way, Theo had to concentrate to reply. “Are my shoes acceptable with this dress?”

Nina glanced over at the simple black flats she’d discarded inside the cubicle. “Next time, go for heels if you’re comfortable in them. Tonight? No one will notice your shoes after they get hit with those eyes.” An approving nod. “Blue fire, bright and hazardous to the body and heart.”

Picking up a black tote bag emblazoned with the Club Moscow logo—a bold black letter M lit up from behind in neon pink, so that it was a shadow emerging from a wild night—she said, “You can put your clothes in here, and I’ll leave it at coat check for you to pick up at the end of the night.”

“Would you like me to transfer the credits for the dress now?”

“Dress is on the house. Have fun. Tell all your Psy friends.”

“I don’t have any friends.” Theo wouldn’t lie to Nina about the return on her investment.

The other woman leaned one hip against the doorjamb. “If you’re keeping company with bears, you’ll soon have more friends than you know what to do with—the bears absorb people. Like giant voracious amoebas.” A scowl. “Charming assholes, one and all.”

Theo couldn’t tell if Nina liked bears or not. But she liked Nina. “I believe I understand now how you won the respect of the bears and the wolves.”

“Oh?” A single pointed word.

“They know you won’t bend, even at risk of death or injury,” she said. “If they push you too hard, you’ll just take the laser weapon hidden in your ankle boot and stun them with a beam to the face. No regrets. No hesitation.”

Nina went motionless for a heartbeat before breaking into laughter open and husky that transformed her from sultry to flat-out breathtaking. “Oh, I like you, Theochka,” she said with a new openness to her expression. “I’m going to put my card in the bag with your clothes. Hit me up for a coffee and you can tell me how you spotted a weapon I’m certain only the most senior members of both packs have ever noticed.”

Eyes yet alive with laughter, the club owner picked up a small cylindrical tube from the basket near the door. “Gloss sample,” she said, peeling off the seal. “Your lips are incredible. Play them up.”

Theo dutifully slicked on the clear gloss.

To Nina’s slow smile. “Oh yes, your bear is going to swallow his tongue.”

HAVING caught Theo’s scent, Yakov entered the club and looked to the left, in the direction she’d gone with Nina. It was a narrow corridor that led to the staff offices, all of which were walled off from the public areas.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting—but it definitely wasn’t a blond bombshell with eyes of blue flame that held his with brilliant intensity, flowing hair of wavy gold, lips plush and so soft he wanted to beg her to do naughty dirty things with her mouth, and legs that went on forever.

He’d been attracted to Theo from the first, but now.

O Bozhe!

Punch to the solar plexus.

And if he was any judge of the look in those stunning eyes, she was obviously in no mood to play it safe tonight.

Striding to meet her halfway, he tugged on a loose lock of wavy hair. “Hot enough to burn, pchelka.”

He crooked his arm.

If he’d considered it, he might’ve expected hesitation. But this wasn’t the Theo who wore a skin that made her blend in. This was the woman of his fucking dreams. She curled her fingers possessively around his biceps, her skin a little cool to the touch and her scent an enticing blend of woman and that barely tamed fury within.

His bear rumbled to the surface of his skin.

Yasha, you’re in trouble, said his inner voice.

Hell, yes he was. And he was fine with it. As he was fine with being claimed.

He just wasn’t certain she was thinking straight after the shocks of the past couple of days. “You sure you want to do this?” he murmured against her ear, shielding her with his body when a group of laughing dancers flowed out of the dance floor in a wave of perfume and fresh sweat.

The eyes of a dangerous goddess held his. “I know who I am, Yasha, and I know what I want. Tonight, it’s to live life to the limit.”

His cock pulsed, the primal heart of his nature emerging to have him nuzzling her lightly at the temple. Putting his scent on her. Not much, but enough to warn off any other changelings—better that than he rip off their stupid heads if they tried to hit on her. “Let’s go play, then.”

Knowing he’d react aggressively if some drunken clubber banged into her—because while Yakov was generally even-tempered, he was still a dominant bear with violently protective instincts—he didn’t push through to the center of the dance floor. Instead, taking her hand in his, he went left along the relatively open wall, near the part of the accordion door that was partially open—at which point he turned right and looked for an open high-top table.

Though many of the glossy black tables were cluttered with empty drink glasses and bottles the staff hadn’t yet had a chance to clear away, it still wasn’t hard to find clean and empty spots—people came to Club Moscow to dance and were most often on the floor, and Nina’s people were efficient.

The club did have a seating area for dancers, but that was up on the partial mezzanine floor right at the back part of the warehouse. That was where tired partygoers went to put up their feet, catch up with friends, and talk over bar snacks in a more relaxed environment.

Nina being Nina, the mezzanine was set up to resemble a comfortable living area with cozy couches and even huge cushions. Just in case a changeling decided to shift form for a bit. The only rule was no nakedness post-shift. If a drunk changeling shifted while in their clothes, thus destroying their clothes, they stayed in that form.

Changelings policed that themselves. Anyone found bare-assed was quickly ordered to “put on their fur” by friends or hauled outside by the same friends to find the naked idiot some clothes.

No one wanted to be banned by association.

A movement at the corner of his eye had him glancing in that direction. Grinning when he spotted the man waving to him from three tables further along, he began to weave his way to the table.

Leaning down to Theo as they reached it, he said, “You remember Pavel and Arwen.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he spoke . . . and she shifted closer.

Oh fuck, his Theo was definitely in a dangerous mood tonight.

Barely restraining the urge to haul her off to his lair, he turned and bumped fists with his twin, then did the same with Arwen. The empath had given him the skin privileges of a clanmate much earlier than he had others in StoneWater not because Yakov was Pavel’s twin, but because they’d become friends independently of Arwen’s relationship with Pavel.

As always, Arwen was dressed about a hundred times better than the rest of them: a long-sleeved black shirt printed with raised black patterns in what looked like fine velvet, tucked into black jeans held up by a belt of solid leather with a silver buckle in the shape of an M. He’d neatly folded up the sleeves of the shirt to the elbow, and his shirt was open at the collar to reveal a sliver of throat and chest.

Within that space sat a necklace with a thin and strikingly jagged centerpiece.

Pavel, meanwhile, was wearing a short-sleeved shirt of rich brown with bronze stud detailing. The shirt had a fold in the sleeves that brought attention to Pavel’s biceps. It also hugged his pecs. He’d paired the shirt with his favorite blue jeans.

Wait a minute.

“New shirt?” Yakov asked his brother, his voice deadpan.

Pavel gave him the finger, because they both knew the stylish shirt had to have been a gift from Arwen. Left to his own devices, Pavel was all old checked shirts and worn T-shirts. Yakov had worried about sophisticated Arwen’s tolerance for that back at the start, but the other man had never attempted to change Pavel.

This gift was something special, a piece he’d clearly been unable to resist buying because it so perfectly complemented Pavel’s build and coloring. The fact that Pavel was wearing it? It meant he liked it. Because while Pavel was crazy for Arwen, he was very much his own bear.

Which was why Yakov could tease him on the point.

Noticing that Arwen had gone motionless, his face stricken, Yakov realized the E thought his words a criticism. “I like it. Might even steal it. You’re still not the pretty twin, though.”

“Such delusions,” his brother drawled while Arwen leaned in to whisper something in Pavel’s ear.

He didn’t catch what it was, but he did catch Pavel’s affectionate nip of Arwen’s jaw before his brother murmured something back. Blushing, the Psy male relaxed. Pavel had no doubt made it clear to Arwen that no one had a chance of getting Pavel in clothes he didn’t want to be in. Arwen had simply gotten his gift very, very right.

But even as Yakov had spoken with his brother, he’d kept the bulk of his attention on Theo, making sure that she got the spot next to Arwen—because behind the two was the open part of the door. To have her be the one closest to the outside, to possible danger, went against his primal instincts, but the bear was willing to tolerate it for her comfort.

“Okay?” he asked as he took position on her other side.

She nodded, her eyes scanning the room as she took in the mass of bodies gyrating to the music, the lights playing over the paleness of her skin in a dance of vivid color. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been this proximate to so many other sentient beings in my life.”

Shoulder a polite inch away from hers, Arwen put down his virgin mojito. “Hang around with bears and this is where you end up.” A dire warning in his tone. “Next thing you know, you’re mated and raising six cubs of your own.”

Pavel nudged Arwen’s hip with his own. “Six, luchik moy? I was aiming for an even dozen.”

This time, Arwen’s blush reached the tips of his ears.