Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity)

by Nalini Singh

  Of course it was her.

  Tough, defiant, a survivor. An empath who looked at him and saw not just the pretty face, but the darkness beyond—and who touched him with an unguarded affection he shouldn’t crave. But he’d kill any other man who dared touch her—where Memory was concerned, he was selfish and possessive and not the least bit rational.

  He’d never let her go.

  “I like that,” she whispered sleepily. “A lot.” Curling into him, she petted his chest. “Can we dance naked every night?”

  Cupping her breast, Alexei pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Every morning, too,” he rumbled, both parts of his nature in favor of arousing a sleepy, warm Memory and sliding into her body as the first action of the day.

  She rubbed her nose against his chest. “Can we stay out here?”

  “You’ll get too cold.” He wrapped her up in his arms, his mate with the heart of a lioness. In his mind flickered images of Etta’s mauled body, blood bubbling out of her mouth as she breathed her final breath.

  Her mate had done that to her.

  Brodie had done that to her.

  Alexei’s wolf brushed against the inside of his skin, its hunger for its own mate a visceral pain.

  Chapter 47

  I am losing myself piece by piece. So today, I choose to go out on my terms, when I know myself . . . and before I can commit the heinous crimes this madness demands.

  —Suicide note left by Scarab subject Ricky J.

  THERE WERE REPORTS all over the PsyNet of an attack against Es in San Francisco’s Chinatown . . . and he’d had a second blackout on his walk home. He’d woken in his bed with blood dripping from his nose and his heart pounding.

  At least he remembered the conversation with the women on the street. Unless that had been a hallucination created by his fractured mind. Maybe he’d never left his apartment, had instead spent the lost hours locked in fever dreams.

  Seated on the side of his bed, he dropped his head, rubbed his face. It was pure luck that he hadn’t made any critical business errors that exposed his erratic sanity. Now this report of Es being attacked by an unknown mind during a block of time for which he had no memories. He had to know what he’d been doing during that time. He had contacts in Enforcement, might be able to gain access to surveillance—

  His eye caught on something clinging to the edge of his shirt cuff. A white piece of paper, possibly part of a decoration. Printed with rabbits. The symbol of the new year, according to Chinese culture.

  “I was in Chinatown.” He had to say it out loud, had to accept that his life was spiraling out of control. Yes, it was possible he’d picked up the small piece of flotsam just walking the streets, but the blotter pages he kept in his bedside drawer didn’t lie.

  Pulling open that drawer, he lifted out the sheet: the words Honeycomb-Designation E crawled across the page over and over again. He had no memory of writing them, but they were in his hand and he’d discovered the pages after another lost block of time. Another fugue.

  Now Es were being attacked by a powerful mind that more than one person had dubbed “ill-disciplined,” but no one could identify. It was a mystery when such powers were generally well-known. The reporters had begun to theorize about “emergent Psy.”

  Paper crackled as he fisted the blotter pages in his hand.

  He wasn’t psychotic or blind to reality: the PsyNet needed empaths. Never while conscious would he assault any member of Designation E, but he wasn’t conscious much these days.

  He had to return to the crystalline sanity of the past, had to shut down this rogue power. There was just one problem: he’d already tried more than once and failed.

  Chapter 48

  Access denied. Breach of Enforcement seal will result in a five-year jail term.

  —Computer response to E. David Renault’s attempts to enter any of his properties, including those purchased over a decade earlier using false identification papers

  MEMORY WOKE WITH a smile and an ache low in her body that made her blush. Turning in bed, she ran her hand over the imprint Alexei had left beside her and bit down on her lower lip, her cheeks aching from happiness. He’d held her all night, her golden wolf, had only left before dawn because he had duties at his den.

  “I’ll be seeing you soon, lioness.” A promise sealed with a predator’s demanding kiss.

  Happily breathless at the thought, Memory got out of bed and headed into the bathroom. She cherished the aches in her body, ran her fingers tenderly over the reddened patches on her skin. She’d gained those marks playing with a wolf.

  Her wolf.

  The smile held until her eye fell on a scar on her ribs. It was small, barely there. She’d been bitten by an insect in the bunker when she’d been about thirteen—the tiny creature must’ve entered via a ventilation duct. It turned out she was allergic to it. She’d had a fever by the time Renault checked on her and the infection had left a scar.

  Frowning, she showered, then got dressed for the day: a button-down shirt in fuchsia-pink with white piping on the sleeves, paired with dark blue jeans and a thin purple belt. Her socks were blue-green with pink polka dots, and she tied a cute purple scarf with a tiny white print around her throat. She’d finally given back Alexei’s jacket, so she picked her own out of the closet: a dark olive-green, it had epaulets on the shoulders.

  Taking it out to the kitchen, she left it hanging on the back of a chair while she prepared her breakfast. Her sparkly sneakers sat just inside the doorway, where she’d kicked them off the previous night. Smiling again as a dark heat uncurled low in her body, she went out onto the porch to eat . . . and her eyes went automatically to the cabin across from hers.

  Every single morning since the attack, she looked across. And every single morning, she saw a closed door. No Jaya with her huge smile and generous heart. No black-clad Arrow with “killer” blue eyes leaving to begin his shift. Just a horrible, painful emptiness.

  Abbot will make a full recovery.

  Memory hugged the echo of Sascha’s words to her heart, a hopeful shield against the cruel emptiness of the cabin . . . and when she thought of Yuri, she focused deliberately on the things they’d discussed during their walks. She would remember her friend alive and strong and intelligent, and she’d trust in his strength and survival instinct.

  When Sascha arrived not long afterward, she didn’t make Memory ask for an update. “I just heard from Ivy,” she said as she pulled off her coat. “Abbot’s made telepathic contact with Jaya and the medics think he’ll be awake within thirty minutes.” Her smile was a thing of pure light. “No trace of permanent damage.”

  Eyes burning, and throat too thick to speak, Memory nodded.

  “Yuri’s still on life support,” the cardinal added, the light dying. “Aden’s getting consults from every neurospecialist he can. He won’t make the call without exhausting all possibilities.”

  Memory clung to hope. And she paid attention during the session despite her turbulent emotions—she’d brought her knitting because the physical activity helped her maintain her psychic focus. She was working on a blanket for Jaya’s Phantom; she needed to do something for her friend, and she’d noticed that Phantom liked to steal the blankets off Jaya and Abbot’s bed. Maybe he’d stop that if she made him his own.

  Sascha admired her progress so far before the two of them settled down to hard psychic work.

  “You’re ready to graduate from Sascha’s Shield School,” the cardinal surprised her by saying after lunch. “You’ve worked hard and you’ve built on a strong foundation. Maintain what you’ve built and your mind will never again be hijacked.”

  It took some time after Sascha left for her words to sink in.

  Memory had succeeded. Renault could never again violate her.

  Putting on her olive-green jacket on a wave of angry resolve, she stepped out onto the porch. And th
ere he was—her golden wolf. Dressed in a black tee and well-worn jeans, he was talking to one of the other changelings. Blonde and curvy Rina. A highly trained leopard soldier with an innate feline sensuality.

  Alexei looked up toward Memory at that moment and, smile wicked and for her alone, held out a hand. It was only then that she realized a hidden part of her had been afraid last night had been a mirage, would disappear in the light of day.

  When he’d kissed her good-bye this morning, she’d glimpsed a potent darkness in his eyes that made her afraid for what they had between them. It remained lodged inside him, a pain that held an edge she couldn’t quite decipher, but he took her hand and hauled her in for a toe-curling kiss that had Rina clearing her throat and saying, “Jeez, get a room. Or a cave. Since you’re an uncivilized wolf and all.”

  Giving Rina the finger with one hand, Alexei continued to kiss Memory—who couldn’t hold on to her anger and sadness in the face of his wild joy in seeing her. Her entire body smiled. When he finally let her up for air, Rina had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head.

  “You know they all live in a big puppy pit, right?” She shuddered. “Poking their noses into each other’s business like it’s a full-time job.”

  That sounded like perfection to Memory. To not be alone unless you chose it, to walk out night and day and find a friendly face. When she said as much, Rina groaned and Alexei looked smug.

  “You want to tell Memory what your packmates spotted?” he asked.

  “Drone flying overhead.” Smile fading to reveal the hard eyes of a soldier, Rina folded her arms across her voluptuous chest. “We didn’t even have to shoot the thing down—one of the falcons was in the area and we asked him to capture it. Smartass put it into my hands like it was a special delivery.” A faint smile cracked her steely expression. “Anyway, the lack of damage meant we could do a full data dive.”

  Cold fingers along Memory’s spine, a chill against her skin, but she shoved back the fear with fury. “Renault has a factory that creates drones. They were designed for use by scientists and statisticians who need to collect wide-ranging data.”

  “It was one of his,” Rina confirmed.

  “Bastard must’ve had one with him when he ran.” Alexei was pure lethal predator now. “Our tech team’s worked with Enforcement to block access to his accounts and properties—even the ones he went to great lengths to hide.”

  “Too many to keep watch on, use as bait?”

  “The man had endless hidey holes, big and small—and enough funds to make more,” Alexei said in response to Rina’s question, even as he hugged Memory to his side. “We made the call to switch off the money tap, turn him into a rat without resources. He’ll make a mistake soon.”

  “What did the drone see?” Memory asked, wanting to know if any of her friends were in jeopardy.

  “Don’t worry, it never got much past our border.” Rina ignored a buzz from the phone she’d tucked into a front jacket pocket. “Drone had a remote transmitter, no onboard storage. But it did have that small chip they’re putting in the newer models.”

  “The one that tells their brains where to look?” Alexei asked.

  Nodding, Rina took out her phone and brought up a picture. “Thing was set to look for this.”

  Memory found herself staring at a ghost: a bone-thin Memory with sallow skin and limp, tangled hair. She didn’t know when Renault had taken it, but from the exhaustion on her features, the slumped shoulders, it must’ve been after one of the worst sessions, when he’d come close to wringing her dry.

  Alexei ran his hand down her spine. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “No problem.” Rina glanced at her timepiece. “I better get back to my patrol route, but DarkRiver will let you know if anything else turns up.” A grin aimed at Memory. “If you’re determined to hook up with a mangy wolf, he’s a good choice.”

  Memory’s lips twitched as she watched the other woman leave. Smile fading when she turned back to Alexei, she said, “I’d like to do something today if you have time.”

  “I’ve got a split shift, so I’m off now.” He gripped her jaw. “You’ve been crying.”

  “Yuri,” she said softly.

  “Has he—?”

  She shook her head. “Just the same.”

  “He’s a tough bastard.” Enclosing her in his arms, Alexei pressed a kiss to her curls. “I wouldn’t count him out until they wheel him out toes-first.”

  From Sascha, she’d expected hope, but to hear it from her tough wolf? She rose up on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. He bent to make it easier for her, and she gave him two more kisses. When he asked about Abbot, she was happy to pass on the good news on that front.

  “You doing okay with Rina’s intel?”

  “Yes, it’s not a shock to discover he’s trying to find me.” Addicts didn’t easily let go of their poison. “And seeing that picture . . . I’m not that woman anymore.” No longer a faded shadow forced into a box.

  She was color and adventure and kisses and games in the moonlight.

  “Renault has no idea who I am anymore.” Her captor thought he was hunting the woman in the cage. “But what I want to do, it has to do with him.” She thought again of the scar on her ribs and all it represented. “I’m ready to go back to the bunker. I want to exorcise the past once and for all.”

  Renault would be out there until they hunted him down, but she could lay her own ghosts to rest. “I want to go back there as me.” As the Memory who wore pink shirts, had big, exuberant hair, and was chased in the moonlight by a golden wolf.

  Alexei’s instincts struggled against the idea of taking her back to that hellhole, but he knew a few things about demons. His, he might never conquer, but he’d help Memory face her own, especially as there was no real risk. The pack had seeded the place with sensors the morning after he found Memory, but none had ever gone off. Her captor had no reason to come back to the bunker.

  “If you’re ready,” he said, “we can head out now.”

  Memory’s hug made him hers all over again. She was so tough, his E, but she had a soft heart that incited every protective instinct in his body. And the way she was with him—so honest and open in her desire and her adoration of him . . . He wanted her as his mate, tied to him in the most indelible way.

  They sat in quiet for much of the drive, but it wasn’t a quiet that irritated and rubbed Alexei’s wolf the wrong way. This was the quiet of two people who understood each other, two people who fit together like a key into a lock.

  He squeezed the steering wheel so hard that his bones showed white against his skin. “I have to tell you something.” He couldn’t lie to her, not even by omission.

  Memory cocked her head in a listening posture, the action one he caught in his peripheral vision.

  “We’re in the mating dance.” It was so fucking hard to get the words out when he wanted so much to finish the dance, claim her as his forever.

  Memory blew out a shuddering breath. “You’re fighting it.”

  Spotting a section of forest with delicate flowers and undergrowth, Alexei pushed the vehicle into hover mode. “I want you, Memory.” The words came out feral, hungry. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I can’t.” Flashes of Etta’s mauled body on the wall of his mind, of Brodie’s bloody muzzle, of the grief on the faces of Etta’s heartbroken family.

  “It’s all right.” Memory’s voice held so much love that he felt kissed a hundred times over. “It’s all right, Alexei.” She touched her fingers to his jaw. “As long as we’re together, as long as I know that your wolf chose me as your mate, it’ll be enough.”

  Grabbing her hand, he pressed his lips to her fingers. “I wish—” A harsh exhale. “I will regret not claiming you as my mate for the rest of my life.” His heart twisted and broke, reformed anew. “But I will love you always.” And he would protect her to his
last breath.

  Never would he hurt her as Brodie had hurt Etta.

  Chapter 49

  $60

  —Price paid by E. David Renault for a street drug

  RENAULT PACED IN jagged steps. It was getting harder and harder to think, his brain erratic despite the medicine he’d sourced and taken. It was Memory’s fault; if she’d only stayed in place, none of this would have happened.

  Shoving his hands through his hair, he stared again at the blank data feed from the drone. Fucking leopards. They must’ve stolen it and given it a lobotomy. It was none of their business; Memory was his.

  Maybe he should go to the bunker and make sure she hadn’t left behind anything that he could use to track her. Too bad she hadn’t left that stupid cat.

  He frowned, a sudden clarity in his thoughts: Was going to the bunker a good idea in any way? For all he knew, it was full of wolves.

  The haze descended again, and with it went the clarity.

  Yes, he should go back to the bunker. The wolves might’ve booby-trapped it, but he was a teleport-capable Tk—he’d be gone before anyone responded. He had to take action, end this now.

  Memory needed to learn her lesson.

  Chapter 50

  Not every wolf is lucky enough to find a mate. It is a gift to be treasured and held close.

  —Dalton, Librarian of the SnowDancer Pack

  MEMORY ASKED ALEXEI to take her first to the resting place of her treasured Jitterbug. Tears fell from her eyes when she saw that mountain wildflowers had begun to bloom around the small, undisturbed cairn. Patting the cairn gently, she sat for a long time before rising to her feet and sliding her hand into his.

  “I met Jitterbug in an alley during a time when Renault had me in the world.” Always with her mind chained, her self bruised from smashing against his shields. “I was still young, and he couldn’t have me with him in meetings without it appearing strange.”