“Your mother’s place?” O'Neil asked.
Wolf’s eyebrows rose. Was there anything O’Neill didn’t know? “Yes.”
A knock hit the door minutes later. O’Neill must have called from his own quarters, which were just down the corridor.
Jillian looked up from her coffee cup and pushed back her chair, even as Wolf rose to his feet.
“It’s too soon for your waffles,” hisanistaasaid, and Jillian sat back down, disappointment flickering across her face. She clearly wanted those waffles.
How...odd. The sheer ordinariness of it left Wolf off balance as he headed to the door, like the world was shifting beneath his feet. He’d accustomed himself to Jillian being locked in theTabenetha, blind to everything around her, within her, and now she wanted waffles.
He opened the door to find O’Neill waiting, curiosity and impatience vying for control of his face.
“Thanks for coming.” He beckoned for O’Neill to follow him and walked into the kitchen, filling two cups with coffee. He handed one to the green-eyed warrior and kept the other for himself.
Green-eyed warrior.
A chill dug into his scalp as he surreptitiously studied O’Neill’s glowing emerald eyes. Good goddess. His eyes were remarkably similar to theheschrmalthat had shared Jillian’s bed.
“There something wrong with my face?” O’Neill asked dryly.
“Your eyes—” Wolf swallowed the rest. Anything that came out of his mouth would sound insane.
Jillian, however, jumped right in. “They are identical in color to our Screaming Mother’s eyes, and they glow like hers too.”
Wolf’s jaw dropped. As far as he knew, Jillian had never met O’Neill. And her back had been to the door as the warrior entered the room. She hadn’t turned around or looked behind her. Nor was there a mirror on the wall in front of her, so nothing to reflect O’Neill’s eyes back to her.
How had she known what O’Neill’s eyes looked like?
Chapter thirty-eight
Day 37
Shadow Mountain Base, Alaska
Confused, O’Neill looked back and forth between Wolf and an anorexically thin woman sitting at the table.
What the hell’s wrong with my eyes? And who the fuck’s the Screaming Mother?
“You mind explaining?” he asked, trying for the same mild tone Wolf excelled at.
A grating sound drew his attention back to the skinny woman at the table. She scooted her chair around until she faced them. He’d never met her before. Never even seen her. But he knew who she was through gossip and speculation. Everyone on boththeBrenahiiloand the basewas obsessed with Wolf’s shadowle'ven'a.But few had met her. Looked like he was one of the lucky few.
Lovely. But why?
There was obviously more going on here than mere introductions. What did this summons have to do with Wolf’s shadowle'ven'aand herheschrmal’ssleeping preferences?
“I know you,” Wolf’s woman said, her cloudy gaze steady on his face.
O’Neill shook his head. “Sorry lady, you’re mistaken. I’ve never met you. Never even seen you.
He glanced at Wolf. His perennially terse boss had finally closed his mouth and was looking back and forth between O’Neill and hisle'ven'aas though he’d lost the thread of the conversation. O’Neill sympathized. He had no fucking clue what the skinny broad was saying, either.
“I do know you,” Wolf’s shadowle'ven'areasserted. When Wolf’s mother settled a calming hand on the woman’s shoulder, she absently shrugged it off. With a head tilt, she lifted her gaze to his and stared. “The Screaming Mother has shown me your face. She favors you.”
O’Neill’s eyes narrowed. “Screaming Mother?”
“Yeah…” Wolf shoved his fingers through his thick black hair, which was loose and flowing down his back and chest like an ebony waterfall. This was the first time O’Neill had seen it down. Prior to this, hisbetaneihad always kept his hair braided.
