by Nalini Singh
Alexei didn’t think it had been a different cat, not with how broken his E had been by its loss. “Memory had stopped eating when I found her. I just got her started again and now I’ve fucked it all up.” His gut churned. He was a protector; to know he’d caused her such distress? Fuck.
Hawke held up his rescued phone. “Your E trusts you enough to get angry with you.” His alpha raised an eyebrow. “You think she’d have come at you like that if she didn’t know deep down that you wouldn’t hurt her? You’re a fucking dominant wolf, Lexie, and you were furious with her—but she attacked you.”
Alexei thought of how difficult it had been to even take her hand at the beginning, how stiff she’d been, how she’d watched him with eyes that said she was tracking a predator. “Maybe.” He glanced over, saw she still had her back to them. “But right now, I’m sure she wants to throw me in a pit of biting insects.”
“I can’t understand why, with your charming personality.”
Alexei narrowed his eyes at his amused alpha. He knew full well he’d been in a growly mood for well over a year, but it was the only way he could function, the only way he could remain a senior member of the pack on whom others could rely. Allowing the anger to fade? It’d leave him wide open to the searing agony of having lost his big brother, sister-in-law, and his chance at mating at the same time.
Never again would a Harte/Vasiliev be born. Alexei would never look into another face and see his own history reflected back.
This was it, the end of the fucking line.
Hawke’s phone vibrated. Alexei caught Aden’s name on the screen. The call had Hawke frowning—likely because all Trinity contact was generally through DarkRiver alpha Lucas Hunter. “He’s probably looking for me.” Alexei’s phone had vibrated a minute earlier, while he’d been in no mood to talk to anyone who wasn’t in this clearing.
“Aden,” Hawke said, then nodded. “Hold on, he’s with me.” He put the call on speaker, listened in silence to what Aden had to tell them.
“On the PsyNet,” the leader of the Arrows said, “this empath’s mind is unlike any other we’ve come across. She has the erratic bursts of multicolored energy, but it’s like light hitting a vivid dark liquid. Colors in the black.”
“Is she a risk to my pack?” Hawke asked.
“Given her catastrophically thin PsyNet shields, she doesn’t appear to have any martial training. Her emotions have leaked into the Net multiple times. Unless we discover anything to the contrary, we will treat her as a variant E—of an unidentified sub-designation.” A short pause. “Arrows protect empaths.”
Alexei’s wolf bristled: he’d found Memory. The Arrows had no claim to her.
“This E is in my territory,” Hawke responded, his voice unbending. “If she’s not a threat, we won’t harm her. If she’s mixed up in something that could hurt SnowDancer, she loses that protection. Are you willing to go to war with us over her?”
“No. You’re an ally we trust to make the right call.” Given the way the Arrow Squad had silently, dangerously backed empaths, it was a powerful indicator of trust.
Hawke acknowledged it as such before he ended the call a short while later. “So, your E has a unique mind.”
“A mirage on obsidian,” Alexei murmured, thinking of the way Memory’s eyes had changed last night, the depth and the darkness and the surreal beauty of them.
“You’re point on this.” Ice-blue eyes locked on Memory’s distant form. “An E who isn’t an E. A prison built on SnowDancer land. A captive who was out in the world. None of it lines up. Find the answers.”
Alexei gave a short nod, his urge to go to her and offer comfort nearly overwhelming. “I don’t ever want to hurt her again, Hawke.” His gut still churned from the memory of her wet eyes, her despair.
Hawke sighed. “I don’t like kicking kittens, either, Lexie, but if that’s just a front, if she’s a Trojan horse sent to weaken us, then we have no choice.” His jaw grew hard, his voice grittier. “We lost pups as well as adults in the stealth assault when we were both kids. My father bled out on the snow fighting the impulses the Psy planted inside him. We can’t afford to trust her until she proves herself.”
Muscles so tense it was almost painful, Alexei stared at Memory’s back, willing her to turn. His alpha was right. Alexei had to be rational and cold-eyed about this, no matter how much his wolf was coming to respect his lioness of an E.
Chapter 14
Further photographs of the E with Renault just discovered by the tech team. Attached. My contact in the Net has also unearthed her original adoption papers—stamped by a telepath in the former Council superstructure. The Tp held too much rank to be involved in something this mundane unless he was doing it as a favor. We can’t ask him about it though; he suffered an unfortunate accident two months after the adoption went through.
—Message from Judd Lauren to Hawke Snow
MEMORY KNEW THEY were talking about her. She couldn’t hear them, but she knew. The wolf with the pale, pale blue eyes and hair of silver gold, his presence a pulse of power, could be deadly to Memory. She knew Alexei would follow the dictates of his alpha, even though—as the growling, infuriating wolf himself had pointed out—he’d saved her.
The alpha wolf, however . . . She shivered. He didn’t know her except as images on a screen, except as words on a piece of paper. How could she possibly explain to him what it was to be a prisoner who walked the world and yet couldn’t cry out for help, could never scream?
Today, she threw back her head and screamed up at the sky.
Startled birds flew out of the trees and she knew the two men—as well as the others who waited in the trees—must think she was insane. She didn’t care. She was a little insane. And she missed Jitterbug. And everything hurt.
It didn’t hurt when Alexei held you.
She paused, blinked, her breath uneven. She hurt all the time, as if tiny knives stabbed constantly at her skin. But the stabs had stopped when Alexei wrapped her up in his arms. Not just today, but in the night, when he’d tucked her against the hot silk of his bare chest. She was so used to the pain that the idea of a growling wolf banishing it had her shaking her head in mute disagreement.
One of the others she’d sensed in the trees walked out at that instant, a small rucksack on her back. She was of medium height and average build, her blonde hair in a ponytail that brushed her nape; her emotions were calm, without jagged edges, though a familiar wildness prowled under her skin.
Memory turned to watch her come closer.
The woman smiled at the alpha wolf and Alexei, but headed directly to Memory. “I’m Lucy.” A cheerful smile. “Nurse from SnowDancer. I’m meant to do a physical, make sure you’re healthy and don’t have any deficiencies or injuries—but it’s your call. Except in emergencies, healers don’t go where we’re not invited.”
Memory’s entire body, which had stiffened when Lucy first spoke, now began to relax. She didn’t like the idea of a stranger touching her, but she had questions about her health. She’d seen the way Alexei moved, the way Lucy had walked across the snowy field, the way the deadly alpha flowed with predatory grace.
Memory’s body didn’t function the same, hadn’t done so for the past year. She was uncoordinated and imprecise at times, her limbs not obeying the dictates of her mind. She hated the idea that Renault’s psychic assaults had permanently damaged her, but she had to know.
“Can we go inside?” The words came out husky, her throat rough from the scream.
“Of course.”
Memory led the nurse inside without further words. She was aware of Alexei and the alpha wolf coming to stand in the substation doorway—which they propped open—and knew it was because they didn’t trust her with Lucy. It hurt her under her simmering anger at the world, but paradoxically, she was glad of their presence.
She had no way of knowing what Renault h
ad planted in her head. She’d been his puppet for fifteen years. He’d dug around in her brain as if it were his personal playground—the only thing that had put any kind of a limit on his invasions had been the risk of permanently injuring her ability.
He needed what she could do. He needed her darkness.
Once inside the bedroom, she cooperated with all of Lucy’s tests, even when the other woman asked to take a blood sample. “I want a copy of your results,” she said to Lucy. “I need to know myself.”
“Standard procedure,” Lucy assured her, taking the blood sample with gentle competence. “Just so you know, changeling healers kind of sit outside the power structure of a pack.” She put the sample away in a special case. “We don’t get involved in politics and we ignore the rules, except when it comes to the safety of the pack. Our priority is the patient.”
Memory wondered if she’d fall under the single caveat. Would her blood show a risk to the pack? She couldn’t see how. Renault’s abuses and manipulations had been mental. It was her own private darkness that lived in her blood, a secret ugliness she could never expose to the world.
“Done.” After putting away her tools, Lucy opened up another compartment in her rucksack. “You’re underweight and slightly malnourished, but not enough for it to be dangerous. Especially if I get you on a replacement routine.” She passed over a small, sealed box. “One sachet into a glass of water, mix, and drink with every meal.”
The box had the markings of a commercial health firm and appeared to be nothing but a potent mix of vitamins and minerals. “Thank you,” she said to this wolf who had been nothing but kind; her throat felt thick, her eyes hot.
Lucy patted her hand with a firm, comforting touch . . . and the tiny stabs stopped again. “I’ll have our nutritionist prepare a full meal-plan for you,” she said. “Sachets are just a stopgap.”
Mouth dry, Memory held out her hand. Lucy took it as if it was perfectly normal to have a stranger reach for physical contact. And the tiny stabs, they stopped again. Lucy maintained the contact while the two of them spoke about pragmatic things such as protein and carbohydrates. “Touch is important for healing, too,” Lucy murmured at the end, the comment a private one between them. “Wolves go crazy without it. I’ve heard Es are the same.”
Memory broke the contact with a jerking motion. The tiny stabs returned alongside her knowledge that she was no E, didn’t deserve this kind of sympathy and care.
Lucy didn’t demand that Memory explain her sudden movement. Instead she said, “Do you have any final questions for me?”
Swallowing to wet a dry throat, Memory made herself ask. “The way I move . . .”
“All your reflexes are within the normal range,” Lucy said at once. “Our senior healer is going to go over all the data I’ve collected today, and she’ll get in touch with you if there’s anything to discuss, but I see no signs of permanent damage.” Kind eyes, soft voice. “Have you begun to move better since your rescue?”
“Yes, a little.”
“That’s an excellent sign. No M-Psy will tell you this, but the body and the soul are as deeply connected as the body and the mind.” She closed her hand over Memory’s again, after first catching Memory’s eye in a silent request for permission that Memory couldn’t withhold, not with a wolf so intensely kind that it was a song in the air around her. “It might be that the way you move was a subconscious rebellion against your captor—to make things harder for him.”
Memory’s eyes widened. She’d never considered that, and yet it made perfect sense that her trapped body had rebelled in the only way left to it. “Oh.”
“It could also be that you have a psychic injury I can’t detect,” Lucy cautioned, “but again, the fact you’re improving tells me it’s not a deep one.” She squeezed Memory’s hand. “You’re not alone anymore, Memory. We’ll help you heal.”
Memory blinked rapidly, the heat in her eyes too much. She wanted to hug Lucy’s promise close, just wallow in it, but she knew the nurse couldn’t have any idea of all the factors in play. The alpha believed Memory had faked being a prisoner, that she was in league with Renault.
Alexei believed that, too.
Memory’s skin burned with a renewed burst of fury. She didn’t know why he’d held her then, why he’d rumbled words to her she hadn’t heard through the angry, hopeless, desolate haze in her head. Renault had shut every door in her face, stolen her freedom even though she’d left the cage.
No one would ever believe her, ever offer her a sanctuary where she could get strong enough to end the bastard forever. She’d wind up facing Renault weak and ragged. Memory gritted her teeth. If that was what it came to, she’d make a bomb and hide it in her clothes, take them both out in a single blast. At least it would save his future victims.
“Memory.” Lucy’s voice was breathless.
Realizing what she’d done, Memory throttled her violent emotions. Her blood was cold. Lucy would hate her now. “I’m so sor—”
“Hush.” Leaning in, the other woman gave her a firm hug. “Stretch out your claws, find your power,” she whispered in Memory’s ear before she rose to her feet and picked up her rucksack.
Memory followed the nurse out of the bedroom. Lucy went to Hawke. Memory watched the alpha put one arm around her shoulders before the two of them stepped out of the substation.
Alexei met Memory’s gaze, a scowl darkening his face. “I can’t take you to our den.”
She’d known it was coming, but the proclamation still punched all the air out of her. If she wasn’t welcome in SnowDancer territory, then she’d never again see him once he drove her out of wolf lands. And no, she wouldn’t miss him; even she wasn’t crazy enough to miss a golden wolf stuck in growl mode.
Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails cutting into her skin.
She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! Despite the fact she had nowhere to go, knew no one in the world. The only person who’d have taken her in was long dead, the last image she had of her mother the horrific one of her body discarded on the hardwood floor of a small home on the outskirts of Carson City, Nevada.
“Fine,” she snapped, because she would not beg. All she had left was her pride.
“Simmer down, lioness—save the death stare for when I really annoy you.” The damn provoking wolf put his hands on his hips while she decided she’d put two tiny, biting insects on him. “The pack needs to figure out if you’re a threat, and you need to learn psychic control before you push a bunch of wolves into a bloodbath.”
Memory’s stomach fell. “I could do that?” Another horrible “gift” to add to her psychopathic résumé.
“Chances are that SnowDancer wolves are disciplined enough to grit their teeth and release the aggression in another way, but yeah, you could push deadly buttons in less well-trained predators.” A ring of amber appeared around the gray of his irises. “You look like you’ve swallowed acid—lot of people would love that type of power.”
Memory stared at him, aghast.
His lips curved into a slow smile that made things inside her curl and uncurl even as she tried to work out why they were still talking if she was being ejected from wolf territory.
“I figured as much,” he said, so smug she wanted to tumble him to the ground and teach him not to taunt her.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his smile grew deeper. “You’re an E under the ferocious roar and the evil plans with tiny insects.” A dark look on those last words. “That’s why you need to go to the compound.”
“What are you talking about, you infuriating wolf?” It came out belligerent.
“The Arrows got permission from us wolves—and from the DarkRiver leopards—to set up an empathic training area in a spot along the leopard-wolf border.” He prowled closer, all heat and confidence and a physicality that compelled her to watch. “A cardinal empath will be waiting to assess
you, offer you initial help.”
Memory stood her ground in the face of his push into her personal space—she understood a wolfish challenge when she saw it. It severely irritated her, however, that she had to tip back her head to continue to hold the aggressive eye contact. “Sascha Duncan?” No one with access to the comm could have avoided hearing about the cardinal’s defection. Not only was Sascha a cardinal, part of the most powerful and rare group of Psy in the world, she was the daughter of a Councilor.
Yet she’d dropped out of the PsyNet to mate with an alpha leopard—and had survived the disconnection.
“Yes,” Alexei confirmed, his energy wrapping around her like a wolf’s fur. As his arms had wrapped around her earlier.
She hungered for another taste of that wild warmth, the muscled heat of him making her feel like a cat herself. But asking to be held was outside her vocabulary, and it was a foolish thought anyway. She knew how she would end. In blood. Spiraling down into an abyss tenanted by monsters.
It was her oh-so-special “talent,” the thing that made her irresistible to Renault.
The “psychopath whisperer,” that was Memory.
Chapter 15
Pack is built on the bonds of family, of mating, of love.
—Hawke Snow
SIENNA STOOD HIDDEN in the trees that edged the clearing. Beside her stood multiple other packmates, all in wolf form. Everyone who’d been briefed on the discovery of the bunker knew the memories it’d awaken for Hawke, the pain it’d make fresh. So half of them had followed him up here, though he hadn’t asked. The other half would protect the den so Hawke could do this without worry about their vulnerable.
This was what it meant to be pack. Even their alpha never had to walk alone.
As Sienna and the wolves watched, Lucy put down her rucksack by the rugged and dusty all-wheel-drive SUV in which she and Sienna had driven up. “I’m going to run down,” the nurse told Alexei, her skin shimmering with the moisture deposited by rain so fine it was mist. “Tie the rucksack onto me once I’ve shifted. I want to make sure Lara gets the samples ASAP.”