Kiss of Snow (Page 138)

A moment in which she caressed a wolf who’d held together a broken pack through sheer grit and determination. It wouldn’t be a simple or easy life, she thought, her lips beginning to curve. He’d try to dominate her, of that she had not a single doubt. But he would also love her with every powerful beat of that wild changeling heart.

. . . you have my devotion, your name branded on my soul, my wolf yours to command. A hundred years? It’ll never be enough. I want eternity.

No, not simple or easy.

Vivid and dangerous and extraordinary, that’s the life she’d have with her wolf.

When that wolf raised his head, she smiled. “Hello.”

He shifted, and suddenly, she was being kissed by a na**d man who scrambled her brains. Gasping in a breath as he scooped her up in his arms to throw her playfully onto the bed, she laughed. “Is the edge off yet?”

“Ask me again in a month or so.” Then he pounced.

It was a long time later, her skin shimmering with aftershocks of pleasure, that she frowned and said, “What’s your full name?”

Hawke’s wolf flashed in his eyes, the ice blue glittering with the same amusement that had his cheeks creasing. “What brought that on?”

“I refuse to be your mate and be in the dark.” She stroked her palms up over the temptation of his chest, her br**sts tingling at the memory of how hard and beautiful he felt pressed up against her. In spite of his earlier words, he’d let her play with his body, stroke the rigid heat of his cock, learn him with her mouth.

Of course, that hadn’t lasted long. When she’d complained, he’d promised to let her use the handcuffs on him next time. Sienna couldn’t wait to hold him to that promise, to taste every muscled inch of him, but first things first. “Tell.”

Leaning down, he nipped at her jaw, a quick, affectionate bite that had her jerking. “No distracting me,” she complained, rubbing her foot over the back of his calf, the hairs on his legs crisp and rough, a sexy caress against her skin. “I want to know.”

His chuckle vibrated through the palms she had on that resilient flesh. “If you’re sure.” Another small bite before he whispered it in her ear.

She blinked. “No.”

He growled, but it was playful. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, you know it is.” Perfect for him. “But then I have to ask about your first name. It doesn’t seem very wolfish—especially considering the age and significance of your last. Was it a family name?”

He shook his head. “My mother had decided on a name if she ever had a boy, long before she met my father, regardless of the fact that Hawke wasn’t any kind of a name for a wolf.” He settled over her, a heavy male blanket. “When they mated, she decided to take her mate’s surname, which was one of the oldest, if not the oldest, in the pack, but she refused to change her mind about her son’s name.”

Sienna heard the echo of deepest love in that statement. “Your father accepted it.”

“He adored her.” A simple answer. “Plus he figured any son of his would soon handle anyone who hassled him over his name—he was right.” The arrogance was pure male wolf.

Charmed, she kissed a line up his neck. “In your mother’s defense,” she said, unable to stop petting him, “it’s a gorgeous, unique name.”

“Just not meant for a wolf.” He bent into her caresses. “Honestly? I like that they both gave me a name.”

She did, too. “What about me?” she asked. “Do I take your last name since we’re mated?”

“Do you want to?” A tilt of his head, the wolf watchful but not demanding.

She considered the question with care, thinking of who she’d been, who she was now. “Yes,” she said at last, “but I’d like to keep mine, too.” As with Hawke, the past was gone, but it had left an indelible mark, could not be forgotten. “It’s a part of me.”

Lips against her own, a wolf’s kiss. “That works fine for me . . . Sienna Lauren Snow.”