Blaze of Memory p-7

by Nalini Singh

Dev’s eyes snapped open, startling her into a little gasp. “Dev?”

  “What were you thinking?” Gold glittered in the depths of the rich brown that had come to mean everything to her.

  “A nightmare,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. “That’s all.”

  He tugged her until she was almost under him. “I’ve got you. Sleep.”

  Heart thudding in reaction, she put her hand on his shoulder, let him tuck her close, and tried to find sleep. The thoughts that had somehow awakened him, she shoved to the back of her mind. Suicide, she realized belatedly, would destroy Dev. He’d blame himself. That was simply the man he was—protective to the core. She’d have to find some other way to save him from the loaded gun that was her mind.

  Because killing Devraj Santos was simply not on the agenda.

  CHAPTER 44

  Judd Lauren walked into the church that Father Xavier Perez called home and took a seat in the last pew, beside the guerrilla fighter turned man of God. After a moment of silence, the other man sent him a slow glance. “No questions today, my friend?”

  “I thought I might give you a break.”

  “And yet I see a question in your eyes.”

  “The Psy won,” Judd said quietly. “In your corner of the world, the Psy won.”

  They’d first met in a bar in a no-name town in Paraguay. Judd had been there to liaise with a contact who never showed. Xavier had been sitting on the bar stool next to his and, tongue loosened by tequila, had begun to talk. Back before he became a no-good drunk, the priest had said, he’d been a man with simple needs—but one who believed in fairness. And there had been nothing fair in the way the Psy had effectively shut out the humans in his region from any kind of trade with the neighboring sectors.

  First, it had been a political protest. But things had quickly escalated. . . until the Psy had crushed the human rebellion so thoroughly that not even an echo remained.

  Xavier gave a slow nod, his skin gleaming ebony beneath the soft church lights. “Yes.”

  “And yet you believe in God.”

  Xavier took several minutes to answer. “There was a girl in my village,” he said, his tone a caress. “Her name was Nina. She was . . . a bright light.”

  Before, Judd wouldn’t have understood. Now he’d held Brenna, now he knew what it would do to him to lose her. “Did she die in the fight against the Psy?” The assassins had whispered into the village in the depths of the night, death their only agenda.

  “We thought they might come,” Xavier told him. “We never imagined they’d be as brutal as they were, but we got our vulnerable out.”

  Judd waited, knowing the story wasn’t over.

  “Nina wouldn’t go. She was a nurse—she knew she’d be needed. She, like all of us, thought they’d rough us up some, leave us to lick our wounds.”

  “That must’ve put you in one hell of a mood.”

  Xavier’s lips curved. “I threatened to tie her up and throw her on the back of a donkey if that was what it took.”

  “She stayed.”

  “Of course. Nina was pure steel beneath that sweet surface—I figured that out when we were six.” The smile faded. “Then the Psy came, and I saw man after man fall, blood pouring out of their ears, their noses, their eyes.”

  A huge burst of psychic power, Judd knew, could do that. “If they’d had a full Squad, they could’ve done the whole village at once.”

  “Yes. But I suppose our little rebellion only merited two or three men. The ones who did come were powerful—ten men died in the first three minutes.” Soft words, Xavier’s hands remaining flat on his knees. “I managed to run Nina out through the jungle. . . and then I told her to jump in the river.”

  Judd had seen that river, seen the crumbling remains of what had once been a thriving village. “It was the only way out.”

  “It was a four-story fall—and Nina was never the strongest of swimmers.” Xavier’s hands curled, crushing the fabric of his white pants, part of the simple clothing of a Second Reformation priest. “But I promised her God would look after her, and then I kissed her good-bye. As she jumped, I prayed to God to keep her safe, to watch over her.”

  Judd knew without asking that Nina had never been found. “Why didn’t you jump with her?”

  “You’re a soldier—you wouldn’t have left either.” Xavier took a deep breath. “Turns out my head is harder than anyone knew. The Psy blast knocked me out, but I regained consciousness hours later.”

  “A natural shield,” Judd said. “Pure chance that you had it, that it was tough enough to deflect the hit.” It was likely, he thought, that the Psy team had been using as little power as possible, because not even a natural shield could protect against a full telepathic blow. “You should be dead.”

  “The assassins obviously didn’t bother to check to make sure I was—though I guess I was dead for the six months I spent drunk.” He spread his hands again. “You’re quiet, my friend.”

  From behind them, the Ghost finally spoke. “I’m waiting to hear the answer to Judd’s question.”

  Judd had heard the other man come in, heard him lock the door, but hadn’t turned. It was part of their unspoken code, one that kept faith with the Psy rebel who was both ruthless and—in his own way—utterly loyal.

  “The answer,” Judd said, “is that so long as Xavier believes in God, he can believe that Nina lives, that she somehow survived.”

  “That logic is inherently flawed,” the Ghost pointed out, but there was something in his voice that Judd couldn’t quite catch.

  Xavier shook his head. “There is no logic to it, my friend. It has everything to do with the heart and nothing to do with the head.”

  The Ghost said nothing. Judd hadn’t expected him to. A man didn’t survive the high-stakes game the other rebel was playing by being anything less than pure ice.

  “So,” Judd said, “why did you want to meet?”

  The Ghost passed a data crystal over Judd’s shoulder. “There have been some changes in the Arrow Squad.”

  Catching the crystal, Judd slid it into a pocket. “Deaths?”

  “Seven men are currently being held in a facility deep in the Dinarides, a remote mountain range along the Adriatic. There’s a possibility they’ve all been taken off Jax.”

  Judd took several minutes to think of the implications of such a radical shift. “Either it’s as a result of a medical reaction—”

  “—or the Arrows have decided Ming is no longer the leader they want to follow,” the Ghost completed.

  “Would it be that easy?” Xavier asked. “Won’t the M-Psy be monitoring their reactions?”

  “The medic in charge of monitoring Jax reactions is always another Arrow,” Judd said quietly. “If that Arrow is no longer loyal to Ming . . .”

  “What will they do if it’s the latter?” the Ghost asked. “If they intend to take the leadership from Ming?”

  “I won’t betray my fellow Arrows.” Each and every Arrow had been shaped by his or her ability, all of them lethal, all of them destroying their chances of a normal life. The fact that Judd was now on the other side of the war did nothing to sever that bond.

  “The PsyNet can’t handle rogue Arrows,” the Ghost argued. “They could destabilize the entire system.”

  “No,” Judd said. “An Arrow’s first task is to maintain Silence. They’ll do nothing to undermine the stability of the Net.”

  The Ghost didn’t say anything further. Theirs was an alliance of equals, and the rebel knew Judd would not bend on this, as the Ghost wouldn’t when it came to protecting the Net. It was Xavier who next spoke. “And you, my friend, what is your first loyalty?”

  That was a question the Ghost had never answered. But it wasn’t, Judd thought, the simple need to put the Net into better hands. Something far more personal drove the rebel.

  Now, the Ghost rose. “I’ll answer that question when I’ve completed the task demanded by that loyalty.”

  Until then, Judd thought,
they’d continue to fight this war, not knowing if, when push came to shove, it would be the Ghost’s logic or his ruthlessness that would prevail.

  CHAPTER 45

  Dev had the jet fly them to a private landing strip near his home in Vermont. Having had to make the long drive from the isolated bed-and-breakfast to the airstrip where the jet was waiting, they arrived in the late afternoon. Jack had called earlier to delay their meeting till the following day, so Dev had a few hours’ grace, and he needed that time to think, to plan. Not only about what he’d say to his cousin, but also about how to end Ming’s terrorization of Katya.

  His hand fisted so tight, his bones ground together.

  “Stop it.” Katya put her hand over his. “Don’t let him destroy you.” Her voice was husky, she’d been trying to talk him out of his decision since before dawn.

  “Should I let him destroy you instead?” He curled his fingers around hers.

  “Dev.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she finally went quiet. The rest of the trip passed in an edgy silence, but he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she’d given up.

  “I thought you needed to return to New York,” she said as they walked into his home. She frowned. “Dev, was the door unlocked?”

  “No.”

  Her concern evaporated as she realized he’d probably had some kind of a remote in the car. “New York?”

  Striding upstairs to throw their duffels into his bedroom, he called back over his shoulder, “I need some quiet time.”

  As she watched him come back down the stairs, she found a thread of laughter inside her. “So we’ll be sleeping in separate bedrooms tonight?”

  Leaning against the wall, he crooked a finger. “Come here and I’ll tell you.”

  “Do you think I was born yesterday?” Folding her arms, she shook her head. “I’m staying right here, Mr. Santos.”

  He straightened, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips. “Then I guess I’ll have to come to you.”

  An almost desperate need took hold of her as he walked over. Her time was running out. She hadn’t had a nosebleed today, but a headache pounded at the back of her skull with relentless force. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. It made her want to curl up in a little ball and whimper.

  But she wasn’t going to waste time doing that, not when she had so little left.

  Dev’s smile turned grim as he came to stand in front of her. “How bad is it?” His fingers settled gently on her temples.

  She melted into the touch. “I thought you weren’t that strong a telepath.”

  “I was waiting for you to tell me,” he said. “Or were you going to pretend you were fine?”

  She recognized that she was being reprimanded, even though it was being done in that quiet, reasonable voice. “There’s not much we can do. I have to deal with it using the usual mental exercises.”

  “They haven’t worked for the past ten minutes, have they?”

  Realizing his mind was far too acute to miss anything, she gave in. “Do you have an alternative?”

  “Possibly,” he said, to her surprise. “My ancestors were a rebellious lot, in case you hadn’t guessed.”

  “Really?”

  That got her a small smile. “Cheek suits you.” A kiss so tender, tears burned at the backs of her eyes. “Sometime after they dropped out of the Net, one of the M-Psy started questioning the accepted knowledge that Psy react badly to all narcotics and painkillers.” His fingers drifted down to the back of her head, pressing lightly.

  It felt so good, she couldn’t stop her little murmur of relief. “Did the M-Psy find a solution?” she said after almost a minute.

  “Not a drug one.” He shook his head. “You full-bloods are appallingly weak.”

  “And you half-bloods can’t even telepath a foot.”

  A nip at her lower lip. “But, he did figure out a way to alleviate pain through the use of pressure points during massage.”

  “Did your ancestors pass the knowledge on to those in the PsyNet?”

  “What do you think?”

  Sighing, she placed her forehead against his chest, realizing the pain was already starting to fade. “The Council wouldn’t have wanted any such close-contact healing when Silence was so young, so easily broken.”

  His fingers went down her neck, to her shoulders, then back up. “Yes. And then later, the touching would’ve gone against the conditioning.”

  “Sounds about right.” Her arms were around his waist, the heat of him a familiar stroke. I’ll miss you so. Dev trusted her enough to let her roam the house and grounds alone now. He’d never expect her to run. But she had to. Because if she didn’t, she was terrified she’d lose herself to Ming’s control, try to spill Dev’s blood.

  And once she was gone, Dev would have to drop his idea of going after Ming—no plan would work without her active participation. He’d be safe.

  “Come to bed,” he murmured against her ear. “I’m in a good mood—I’ll give you a full-body massage.”

  “How generous,” she teased, headache less than a dull throb now. “This has nothing to do with getting your hands on my naked body?”

  Kisses brushed along the shell of her ear. “Of course it does—I don’t massage for free.”

  She let him tug her into the bedroom, let him shut the door, strip off their jackets. Just once more, she told herself. Afterward. . .after he was asleep, she’d sneak out. He hadn’t reset the house alarm, and that would have been the biggest hurdle. It would take an hour to reach the main road on foot, perhaps longer, but she had time. All the time in the world. Because she had no destination. . . aside from getting away from Dev.

  But right this moment, she wanted simply to breathe in the scent of him, until it was imprinted into her very cells. When he pressed her back against the door, his hands on either side of her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled in welcome. “Do I get a kiss before my massage?”

  “Since you asked so nice.” His lips were smiling when they touched hers, and she’d never guessed until this moment what it was to kiss a man you could laugh with. They smiled through the entire kiss, as he sipped at her, before slicking his tongue over her lips.

  She danced her own tongue playfully over his, flirting but never delivering. He nipped at her in sensual punishment before taking her mouth with a dominance that was as natural to him as breathing. And through it all, he kept her pinned to the door, his heavier body a delicious source of pressure.

  Smoothing her hands over his shoulders, she slipped her fingers under the sleeves of his T-shirt, glorying in the quint-essentially male strength of him. “Take off your T-shirt.”

  “I’m starting to think the headache was a ploy so you could have your wicked way with me.”

  A teasing Dev, Katya found, was a devastatingly sexy Dev. “You look hot—I thought it would cool you down.”

  That got her another laughter-filled kiss. He backed off only for the moments it took to strip off his T-shirt and throw it to the floor. She couldn’t help but spread her fingers over the silky-rough surface of his chest as he returned to claim her mouth, his own hand closing possessively over her hip.

  A single squeeze and she trembled. Feeling him smile at her response, she scratched her nails lightly down his back. “Again,” he ordered, his voice husky.

  When she did, she had the pleasure of feeling his big body shudder before he raised one hand to the back of her neck, kneading the tense muscles in a firm yet gentle sequence that made her moan as the last vestige of pain was replaced by pleasure, her body softening even further for him.

  “Good?” An intimate murmur as she nuzzled against him.

  “Mmm.”

  He continued to use those strong fingers on her, his head dipping to kiss the sensitive skin of her neck. Stroking her hands down his sides, she undid the top button of his jeans. He stilled but didn’t stop her. And when she lowered the zipper, he sucked in a breath. Feeling bold and free and unashamedly female, she s
lid her hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

  “Katya.”

  Biting down gently along the tendon stretched taut on his neck, she caressed him, slow and easy, knowing it would drive him crazy in the best way. “How did I get to be the one giving the massage?”

  A strained chuckle against her ear, a bitten-off curse. “Harder.”

  She did the opposite.

  “You’re going to get in trouble if you keep doing that.”

  Pressing an openmouthed kiss to his neck, she resumed her lazy stroking. “I’m not scared of a little trouble.”

  He pulled off her hand with such speed—pinning her wrists on either side of her head—that she barely had time to gasp in a breath before he kissed her. . .before he took her. She let him. Because, quite simply, there was something to be said for a man who knew what he wanted and made no bones about demanding it.

  The feel of his strong hands on her wrists simply enhanced her pleasure. She tried to pull away, but only because it amplified the sensations. Dev knew. He used his body to hold her in place, even as his lips insisted she return every kiss, every little bite, every breath.

  She gave him all she had.

  And still he asked for more.

  Melting, she ran the back of one foot over his calf, urging him closer. Her reward was the release of her hands, as his own slid down her back, pulling her up. Instinct had her putting her legs around him in a shockingly intimate embrace, the hottest part of her pressed to the hardest part of him.

  But even then he wasn’t satisfied. He shifted her until she was exactly where he wanted her. The pressure on her clitoris made her suck in a gasp, grip at his shoulders. “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can.” Another thorough kiss, their tongues dancing, tangling, loving. “Just a little more.” He moved his body against hers, not gently, not hesitantly—no, this time, Dev was determined to push her over. And push her over he did. Into an erotic whirlpool from which there was no escape.

  When her lashes finally lifted, she found herself being dropped lightly on the bed. Looking up, she watched as Dev pulled off her shoes, kicking off his own as he prowled up onto the bed from the other end. “You,” he said, his eyes taking a slow journey down her body, “are seriously overdressed for the occasion.”