Mine to Possess p-4

by Nalini Singh

  She gasped, obviously horrified. “I would not.”

  “No.” His tone turned serious. “Because you were mine. You always have been.”

  “You’re not angry anymore?” It came out hesitant, searching.

  “How can I be angry with the other half of my soul?” he asked, his tone so tender it tore little pieces out of her heart. “I have a temper, baby, and I know I fucking brood. But even if I act pissed, even if I snarl, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. Your soul shines, Tally, and I’m so damn glad it shines for me.”

  She felt a tear slide down her cheek at the unforgiving honesty of his statement. Somehow, he had achieved the impossible, made her feel young, innocent to the depths of her soul. “You sure can talk pretty when you put your mind to it.” Her voice came out husky. “I am so glad you’re mine—I know you’ll always be there for me, that if I call, you’ll come.”

  His arms grew tight and she knew he’d understood. Never again would she wonder if he would one day leave her. His devotion humbled her, made her determined to love him until his own scars were nothing but forgotten memories. Then he said, “Forever, Tally,” and her heart broke.

  “Clay, what if—”

  “Don’t say it.” He squeezed her hard. “We’ll talk about it after we see the specialists. The first appointment is tomorrow.”

  She bit his arm in a light reprimand, hearing his unspoken pain in the way he refused to discuss the subject. “Don’t you dare shift again,” she ordered, wondering if one lifetime, no matter how long, would ever be enough to love Clay all the ways she wanted to love him. “We can’t ignore the fact that I’m sick.”

  “You don’t smell sick to me,” he snapped.

  Neither of them spoke for a second, then they both spoke at once.

  “I don’t?”

  “What the fuck?”

  She wiggled in his arms. “Lemme turn.”

  He loosened his hold enough that she could turn around and shimmy up to take a face-to-face position with him. “You said I smelled wrong before.”

  “Yeah, you did.” He frowned and nuzzled at her, this time to confirm his finding. His tongue flicked out to taste her pulse. “It’s gone. Nothing, not even under the surface.”

  Talin’s eyes were huge as he met her gaze again. “Remission?”

  “No, this is deeper.” His beast was convinced of it, took another sip of her scent to confirm. “The decay is gone.”

  “Like I’m getting better?” Her hands clenched on his shoulders. “No, this kind of disease doesn’t disappear on its own. It’s a degenerative condition.”

  Clay’s beast was roaring at him in agonized frustration, telling him to remember. “Remember what?” he muttered.

  “Clay?”

  He was concentrating too hard to reply. It was something he’d heard, something important, something the cat had understood, though the man—“Hell!” He jerked upright without warning.

  Talin bit off a cry of surprise as she sprawled off him and onto her back.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, reaching for and pulling on his jeans.

  She got up behind him, dressed in that strawberry ice cream slip that drove him half-crazy. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Here.” He threw her the lacy robe thing that came with the outfit.

  She shrugged into it, eyes wary. “You okay, darling? Have too many beers with the boys maybe?”

  He smacked her lightly on the bottom. “Smart-ass.”

  “Don’t you forget it.” Her smile had the power to knock his heart right out of him. “Why are we getting decent?”

  He found himself petting the curve he’d smacked, pulling up the slip so he could touch bare skin. Smooth. Hot. His. “I don’t want Luc to see you naked.”

  “Stop that,” she breathed out as his fingers ventured south, dipped. “Or don’t, I’m easy.”

  He kissed her hard on the lips before pulling down her slip and closing the robe tight. “Be good.” God, he wanted to play with her like this for decades to come. She’d drive him crazy and he’d enjoy every minute of it.

  “Why?” Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement until he stopped in front of the communications panel. “We’re making a call?” At the same time, she grabbed the shirt he’d flung off earlier that night. “Put it on.”

  “Trust me, I’m not that pretty.” But he shrugged into it before pushing in the code for the call.

  “If no one’s bleeding, I don’t want to know,” Lucas growled, audio only.

  “Sascha there?” Clay asked, wrapping both arms around Talin and pulling her back against his chest. “Or did she finally come to her senses and dump your ass?”

  “Clay, have you lost your mind?” Talin glared at him, voice whisper-soft.

  But Lucas turned on the visual feed. His hair was rumpled, his shirt on as haphazardly as Clay’s, and it was obvious he hadn’t been sleeping. “I swear this had better be good. Do you know what I was about to tas—”

  A feminine hand clamped over his mouth, then dropped away as Sascha looked over his shoulder, hair curling wildly around her face. “Clay?”

  “Dev Santos said something tonight about a girl dying because she wasn’t getting the feedback her part—Psy brain needed.” Hope weaved through Clay’s voice with tensile strength. “Something about not knowing how to link to a psychic network.”

  Sascha was nodding before he finished, her eyes going from night-sky to obsidian in a single blink. “You think—”

  “Yeah,” he finished for her. “She doesn’t smell sick. Luc?”

  Lucas’s facial markings became more defined as he frowned in thought. “You’re right. I smelled it that first night we met, but nothing set off my beast today.”

  Talin stood frozen in the circle of Clay’s arms, trying not to hope. If she didn’t hope, the disappointment wouldn’t tear her to pieces. But she failed. “Can you check that?”

  “I don’t know,” Sascha said. “I can’t get into your mind, but I’ll try on the Web of Stars—that’s the network that connects all the sentinels and their mates to Lucas. I’m contacting Faith, too. She’s not as good with the Web yet, but she’s had a lot of experience looking for hidden patterns.” Closing her eyes, she seemed to melt into Lucas, her bare arms wrapping around the alpha from behind.

  Talin turned and half buried her face in Clay’s chest. “It can’t be true. My Psy DNA is a joke. Three percent, remember?”

  “Shine was unable to track down your father,” he said, confusing her for a second, “but what if both your parents were long-removed descendants of the Forgotten? What if they each carried a single dormant gene that came together in you? Maybe that gene is the three percent.”

  “A million-to-one chance.”

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “Silence has been around for just over a hundred years. Before that, anything went. A lot of humans and changelings had Psy relatives pre-Silence—the pool for dormant genes is wider than the descendants of the Forgotten.”

  “But the specialists,” she said, playing devil’s advocate because she wanted this too much, “they did genetic tests, found no markers.”

  “Because they weren’t looking for the right thing,” he said, not budging. “Remember what Santos said about a kid’s family thinking he was full human, so no one looked for a Psy cause?”

  He was fighting for her, fighting so damn hard. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He stroked his hand down her back. “Yep, you do.”

  “You’re supposed to say it back,” she said, pretending to be offended because the silliness kept the fear/hope at bay.

  “Why?” He scowled down at her. “You know you’re my heartbeat.”

  The blunt words cut her off at the knees. Reaching up, she kissed him, uncaring that the other couple might be watching. But when they parted, she glanced at the screen to find Sascha’s eyes still closed and Lucas focusing on her. “I wonder what she sees.”

  “Faith told me once—our minds are like s
tars, each one connected ultimately to Lucas. That’s why Sascha calls it a web.”

  “And I’m in there because of my bond with you.” It gave her a sense of peace to say that. “I’m glad we’re mated,” she said, speaking the truth for the first time. “I know that’s selfish, but I’m glad.”

  “Good, because there’s no getting out.”

  It was at that moment that Sascha’s eyes flicked open. Talin was startled to see the blackness cascading with color. The wonder of it astonished her, made her want to reach out and touch the screen in delight.

  But what Sascha had to say eclipsed even those magnificent eyes. “Clay was right.”

  Her knees would have collapsed had Clay not been holding her upright. “What?” she croaked out. “Did you see something?”

  “It was hard,” Sascha said, her smile growing so wide it was in danger of cracking her face. “Your mind is different—we thought it was because you were human, and we were mostly right, but our preconception kept us from seeing the whole truth. You don’t suck in the biofeedback the same way a Psy does. The flows aren’t obvious. It’s like”—she paused her rapid-fire explanation—“like you need a misty rain, while we need a downpour. Do you see?”

  Talin was so dazed, she had trouble formulating speech. “Not enough to die immediately without, but not quite right unless I have it?”

  “Yes!” Sascha’s expression glowed with excitement. “What we saw around you is a slight, very slight, draw on the biofeedback. Your brain is taking in what it needs through your link to Clay and therefore to the Web.” Her eyes sharpened. “Are you feeling much better?”

  She didn’t have to consider the question. “Yes. I can think so clearly. Ever since—” Blood rushed out of her face. “Clay’s headache.”

  “That explains it,” Sascha said, smile not dimming. “There had to be a strong draw at some point, because, if we go by your symptoms, your brain was well into starvation mode. I didn’t notice a shift in the Web that would have alerted me to the truth, but that’s because you took it directly from Clay.”

  Terror spread through Talin’s veins. “Did I hurt him?”

  “No, no, it’s like a blood donation,” Sascha assured her. “If you’d been taking in that much constantly, it would have hurt him.”

  “Can it kill?” Talin asked, mouth full of cotton wool.

  Sascha’s eyes grew poignant. “Yes. For the PsyNet born, yes. But you don’t need as much. You would have simply made Clay very tired. As it is, you only took a big bite”—she smiled—“from him once, and he’s had time to regenerate. With the bond settled in the Web, you’re soaking it in from the general extraneous buildup, like me and Faith. It harms no one.”

  “Okay.” Now that she knew Clay was fine, it was all she could say, her mind numb.

  “Clay,” Lucas said, “how about we pick this up tomorrow?” His eyes were intent on Talin. “I think your Tally needs time to recover, and my Sascha darling needs to work off some of her excitement.”

  There was a gasp and a chuckle from someone, but Talin was barely aware of it. As she was barely aware of Clay ending the call, peeling off her robe, and dropping it to the floor along with his own clothes. But when he kissed her, it was as if a switch had been thrown inside her. She came to life and what exuberant life it was. She laughed and they played and when it was over, she lay with her head on his heart, and thought about forever.

  CHAPTER 48

  In the PsyNet, the third emergency session of the Psy Council was taking place.

  “We can’t have a repeat of the situation we had last year with Enrique,” Shoshanna said, referring to the Councilor whose death had led to Kaleb’s ascension. “We need to swear in a new Councilor before anyone starts questioning the true circumstances of Marshall’s death.”

  “Yes,” Tatiana agreed. “Though the populace does seem to be accepting the explanation of accidental death very well.”

  “There’s one more thing we need to discuss,” Ming interrupted. “We may have a situation with Ashaya Aleine.”

  “She’s controlled,” Kaleb said, brushing the issue aside. “We have her son, correct?”

  “Yes. However, I’m not sure how long that’s going to hold her.”

  “But it does for now,” Nikita responded. “Shoshanna’s right—we need a new Councilor fast.”

  “Agreed,” Ming replied. “But unlike with Kaleb, there’s no one ready to step into the role. We considered Gia Khan in the last round, but she’s since proven weak, unable to stop unrest in her local region.”

  A taut silence.

  “I have a suggestion,” Kaleb said. “He was once a Council candidate, is now powerful enough that he defies us, and he’s strong enough to take on Marshall’s responsibilities.”

  “You’re talking about Anthony Kyriakus,” Shoshanna said. “The man is a thorn in our side, but you could be right. Make him Council and we gain access to his considerable resources and business network.”

  “He turned down a Council seat once before,” Nikita reminded them. “He may not accept now.”

  Kaleb considered his next words with care. “After the confirmation of Marshall’s death, I had a discussion with Anthony.”

  “Without Council authorization?”

  “Give me credit, Ming,” Kaleb responded. “There are ways to gauge interest without saying anything of the least note.”

  “Your conclusion?” Tatiana asked.

  “He may be willing.”

  Shoshanna’s mental star swirled in thought. “He has considerable contact with changelings—he’s still subcontracting work to his daughter, Faith.”

  “That,” Nikita said, “could be another advantage. He has to have gained a lot of knowledge about the cats.”

  “A good point,” Ming acceded. “I have no reservations against him as a candidate.”

  “I have one,” Henry said. “Like Nikita, he also has a daughter who has dropped out of the Net. Will that weaken the Council’s image?”

  “In my opinion, no,” Kaleb responded. “He’s already proven he can hold us at bay. He has more businesses backing him than any of us.”

  “I agree,” Shoshanna said. “I vote yes.”

  One by one, the others all agreed.

  A day later, Anthony Kyriakus, leader of the influential NightStar Group and father of the most powerful F-Psy in the world, accepted their offer.

  At the same time, Ashaya Aleine unfolded a plain pen and paper note hidden inside the latest batch of equipment she had requested. Keenan would be flown in for his next scheduled visit, but the one after that would be by car.

  She hoped the man who had held a gun on her the night she’d set Jonquil Duchslaya and Noor Hassan free had told the truth. Because they would have only one chance. Ming was watching her. She had overplayed her hand, and now the Councilor was inches away from enforcing her obedience through the most vicious of mental violations.

  EPILOGUE

  Two days after the night that had given her forever, Talin met with the specialists at Shine and they put her through a rigorous series of tests that confirmed Clay’s hunch and Sascha’s diagnosis.

  “Your need for the feedback is so small,” Dr. Herriford exclaimed, “it wasn’t picked up on the initial tests we run on every Shine child.” He shoved a hand through his hair, making the bright orange stuff stick up in untidy tufts. “We’re going to have to redo that testing. If you slipped through, so will others.” His distress was open. “We’ll need to start doing periodic checks as students age, too, rather than just the intake scans.”

  Talin had every intention of helping reboot the system, but first she wanted solid answers. “So I don’t have to worry about any of the symptoms?” No more fugues, no more having her sense of choice taken from her. Her hand curled around Clay’s, held on tight.

  “Everything you’ve told me,” the doc said, glancing at his small electronic notepad, “the fugues, the lost memories, even the mysterious allergic reaction, they’re
all symptoms of Process Degeneration.”

  “Doc,” Clay said, cutting to the heart of the matter, “is she going to be okay?”

  Herriford beamed. “Whatever you’ve done to address the feedback issue—and if you changelings ever decide to share, please let me know—”

  Clay growled.

  “Right.” The doctor smiled on, undaunted. “I’m happy to say that Ms. McKade is in perfect health. No Forgotten weirdness—you wouldn’t believe the things I see.”

  She jumped off the examining table. “Thanks, Dr. Herriford.”

  The doctor’s handshake was warm, solid. “By the way, did Dev have a chance to catch you up on everything?”

  Talin shook her head. “We got the CliffNotes version. Why?”

  “Well, this isn’t common knowledge,” Herriford said, “but Dev told me to be honest with you. You know about the power discrepancy?”

  She nodded. “A rare few descendants have a massive amount.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the interesting thing.” The doctor’s eyes were sparkling. “These kids, they’re not being born with a lesser version of Psy abilities, they’re being born with completely new abilities.”

  “How is that possible?” She glanced at Clay and suddenly had her answer. “Mixed blood. The genetics are intermingling and creating something new.” Something beautiful.

  The doctor nodded. “There were instances of such spontaneous abilities appearing in the PsyNet pre-Silence—our theory is that these changes stopped because the Council has a firm line on eliminating any mutations from the gene pool.”

  “But that’s not happening with the Forgotten.”

  “No.” The doctor’s smile grew. “What we’re now seeing are the results of a long-term genetic shift. In some cases, it’s as if the Psy genes express themselves by intensifying the bearers’ human strengths.” He gave Clay a pleading look. “Are you sure you can’t find me some changeling—”

  “No.”

  The doctor sighed. “As I was saying—these new abilities aren’t Psy or human but a mesh of both, perhaps even all three where the individual has changeling blood as well.” Another hopeful—but futile—glance at Clay. “Very, very exciting.”