Chapter 40

Dnx09: Bozhe moi! YOU GUYS!! I’m in Club Moscow and you will NEVER GUESS who I just spotted!

LvrBoo: Who????! Don’t keep us in suspense!

Novemba: SPILL GIRL!

WildestW: Five minutes and no update? We gonna hunt you down and do a murder.

Dnx09: Hold on! I was trying to sneak a pic, but no luck. So my bear clanmates, obvs, wolves, too. A smokin’ human or twenty—some international soccer team is in town.

LvrBoo: Brag, brag, brag.

WildestW: I’m sharpening my murder fork.

Dnx09: So, I went out to get some air, and no biggie. Not too many people outside, was chill. Then I decide to walk toward the fence—and no B.S.—I swear I saw KALEB FRICKIN’ KRYCHEK talking to Nina R. (she totally owns the club) all the way out in the shadows by the fence!

Novemba: Ugh, you had me going there for a minute. I’m outa here. This Wild Woman has pups climbing out of bed and a hottie of her own to snuggle.

LvrBoo: Yeah, did you eat some magic mushrooms while out foraging? It happens.

Dnx09: I SWEAR! He totally ’ported out before I could get my proof!

WildestW: Did you also see flying pigs? Kaleb Krychek, Cardinal Tk and Too-Scary-to-Sleep-With-but-MAN IS HE HOT, is not hanging out at clubs and poofing in front of you. Nice try tho. Got us good.

—Wild Woman Forum

“DON’T MIND STASYA,” Yakov murmured with his lips against her ear, the hard muscle of his body flexing against her. “She’s protective of her clanmates. Even the ones who can look after themselves.”

Theo’s toes curled. “I understand. I’m an unknown,” she said, and it wasn’t just words; while she’d never had a true family, she’d had Pax. She’d be exactly the same if he showed a sudden interest in another person. Especially if that person came from a family with a reputation like their own.

Yakov moved his thumb, brushing it back and forth below her breasts. “I dunno, Theo.” A nuzzle of his jaw against her hair. “You’ve petted my bear. We’re way past the stranger stage.”

She had no right to be here.

The words hit out of nowhere, slicing through her to reveal blood and bone, a brutal reminder from the part of her that would never allow her to forget or forgive what she’d done for her grandfather. That was as it should be. She shouldn’t forget what she’d done. She should remember and be haunted by her actions for the rest of her life.

And even that was nowhere near enough punishment.

Yet, hypocrite that she was, she didn’t move away from Yakov, and when he nudged her nutrient drink toward her, she uncapped the bottle and took a sip. She also sampled the food, her body an inferno that burned endless energy.

Rage and need and a hatred turned inward, it was a voracious mix.

“Theo?” Arwen’s calm voice when Yakov leaned over to talk to someone who’d come over to their table; the other Psy’s perfect face was gentle with concern. “You’re in trouble.”

Her fingers clenched on the nutrients.

Forcing herself to breathe in and out as she fell back on her childhood calming technique—except that it was now a bear she drew with the dots of light in her mind—she stayed silent for a full minute before responding. “And now?”

A frown, a sigh. “You’ve bottled it.” Then he shook his head and, for such an elegant and beautiful man, looked very stern and severe as he said, “You can’t keep on doing that forever. You know what happens when you just bottle things up? You explode without warning.”

Theo wanted to squirm as she hadn’t done since she’d been a small child in front of her tutor. Arwen was an E. No doubt about it. She might not be an expert on Designation E, but she’d spent a lot of time around Memory Aven-Rose. Despite that, tonight was the first time she understood what people meant when they said empaths could rule the world had they the inclination to do so.

Because while Memory’s attention had never been focused on her, Arwen’s at that instant was—and the full attention of an empath who so openly wanted only the best for her . . . and who was disappointed in her . . .

She wanted to apologize without knowing exactly why.

It was Hakon, the polar bear, who saved her. Slamming down his already empty beer bottle, he threw up his arms. “Are we dancing or having a fucking tea party?”

Stasya turned in a motion Theo could never make, it was so lethally graceful, and shoved at his chest with one hand, pushing him toward the dance floor. Though StoneWater’s second-in-command weighed less than Hakon and was shorter than him, it was clear that she was the one in charge.

Then she began to move in a sinuous flow of muscle, and Hakon’s mouth all but fell open before he grabbed her hips and began to move with her. Their motions were sensual, fluid, and primal in a way that felt far too intimate for a public venue.

Theo couldn’t look away.

“Our Arctic cousin better be careful”—a grinning Pavel shook his head—“or she’s going to break his wrists. An inch lower and snap, snap. Then what’ll we tell Auntie Anni?”

Heart thudding, Theo turned to Yakov. It felt wildly natural to speak with her lips brushing his ear when he bent his head toward her. “Does all dancing involve physical connection?” Theo wanted to do what they were doing—and she was certain she’d explode exactly as Arwen had warned her she would.

But Yakov shook his head, the silk of his hair brushing against her cheek. “You can have as much or as little contact as you want.” He nodded to the right. “Though—those two need to get a room.”

Following his gaze, Theo saw two women. One wore a glittering top and equally glittering micro-shorts, while the other wore a dress similar to Theo’s in shimmering silver. The couple was pressed against each other without a breath in between, a single organism in two parts.

As she watched, one of the women slid her fingers lightly along the back of her partner’s neck, angled her head . . . And the couple kissed, all tongue and open mouths, while the shorter of the pair slid her hand over the curves of her partner’s rear, squeezing her curves through the silver rain of her dress.

Flushed, overheated, Theo put down her nutrient drink with too much force and said, “I’d like to try dancing.” If she was going to explode, she’d rather do it experiencing life than hiding away from it.

Once she knew the full truth of her past, she might never again get the chance to dance with her bear. She’d slam her own prison door shut, cut herself off from any chance of happiness.

The clock was counting down to an endless dark midnight.

Because Theo knew she was fooling herself. Rehabilitation erased a person, made them nothing, a blank surface devoid of memory or personality.

She was very much Theo.

So it must’ve been Theo who disabled cars or elevators at critical moments, sending them careening into a wall or smashing to the ground. It must’ve been Theo who opened all those locked doors to places where people thought they were safe. And it must’ve been Theo who’d switched out one pill with another.

Medication for poison.

So easy for a 2.7 with rapier control who happened to be sitting at the table right next door to her target.

Theo. Theo. Theo.

No one else.

Guilt weighed her down even as Yakov took her hand and led her to the dance floor. She shoved off the heavy stone of it with desperate hands. Tomorrow, she promised the ghosts that haunted her. Tomorrow you can have your pound of flesh. I just want one night.

One night to not be responsible for a terrible choice made by a girl hungry for acceptance.

One night to exist without the crushing awareness of what she’d done.

One night to be free.

Yakov’s hand was warm and a little rough-skinned around hers, his hold firm. Because he cared about her comfort, he didn’t lead her deep into the dancers. He did, however, situate them away from the table as well as Stasya and Hakon—and inside a section of the dance floor where shadows pooled, liquid and soft.

Lost in the dark.

Safe from watchful eyes.

Then he turned and put his hands on her waist, at the very edge of her hips. Having seen how other couples danced, she put her hands on his shoulders, the hard muscle of them flexing under her touch.

It was shockingly intimate.

Dimples flashing, he began to move, putting light pressure on her hips with his hands to teach her how to flow with the music, teach her how to dance. Every so often he’d speak against her ear, his lips brushing the curves of it to praise her. “Perfect. Just like that. You’re a natural dancer, pchelka.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her body rubbing against his with every move. He was aroused. She could feel the hard ridge of it against her, and she wondered if he could feel her nipples the same way. They’d pebbled against the soft fabric of the dress until the friction was torturous.

But she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away.

It felt as if she’d die of thirst if she broke this sensuous connection that was a slide of bodies on bodies, heat on heat.

SHIFTING his hold, Yakov pressed one hand against Theo’s lower back, her body so close to his that he could’ve easily hitched her up onto his hips, slid up her dress, and—fuck, he didn’t need to be having erotic fantasies on the dance floor.

His rigid cock didn’t need any more encouragement.

The sight of Theo’s pleasure was more than enough. It didn’t matter that they were surrounded by others—he knew her scent, could taste the rich musk of her arousal, and it was taking everything he had not to dip his head and lick up the light layer of perspiration along her throat, eat up her taste.

But that would mean taking his eyes off the flushed beauty of her face. As they danced, he watched the black of her pupils expand, grow, and eclipse the blue until her gaze was an endless midnight.

“I don’t know what’s happening.” Theo’s voice was grit—but she made no indication she wanted distance between them.

Yet those eyes . . . He remembered too late the meaning of such an eclipse. Swearing under his breath, he said, “This is enough. I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re overwhelmed by—”

“Stop.” The single word was hard, furious.

Man and bear both went motionless.