Vasic put his gauntleted arm around her shoulders. "I wish I'd met you ten years ago."
His words destroyed her, they carried such loss, such tightly held pain. What, she thought with a stab of fury, had her strong, wounded, beautiful man been forced to do in those ten years? She didn't ask, unwilling to contaminate his haven with such terrible memories. "Look," she said instead, "Rabbit's trying to climb up the dune." Her poor little dog kept sliding down, unable to figure out how to make the sand behave.
Face set in increasingly stubborn lines, Rabbit continued to try in an adorable display of will. "Come on," she said to her pet, "you can do it. You can do it, Rabbit."
And then he was scrambling up, slowly but surely. She slapped Vasic lightly on the chest. "You're helping him."
"It seems only fair since I brought him here."
Rabbit flopped down beside them seconds later, his eyes closed and tail wagging slowly as he rested from his labors. Ivy went to pet him when Vasic stood, slightly unbalancing her. She braced her hand on the sand, looked up. "Do we have to leave?"
He shook his head and came back down . . . except this time, he sat behind her, his legs on either side of her own and his chest a hard wall at her back. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. She didn't shy away from the gauntlet; the malfunctioning piece of technology was part of Vasic and as angry as it made her, never would she reject him in any way.
At this second, however, her focus wasn't on the hardware. Neither was it on the stunning landscape. Not with her body deliciously imprisoned by the muscled heat of his. Pulse racing as a fine sheen of perspiration broke out over her skin, she whispered, "Vasic."
His breath was hot against her neck as he leaned down . . . and then she felt his lips brushing over the place where her pulse jumped. Whimpering, she gripped at his thighs. The muscles in his forearm tightened in response, pushing up her breasts, but he didn't intensify the intimacy, didn't reach up to squeeze her needy flesh, tug at her nipples.
No, Vasic was patient. Excruciatingly patient. He explored her with an erotic attention to detail that made her squirm. But no matter how she begged and pleaded, he wouldn't allow her to turn. "I'll lose it," he said bluntly. "Let me be selfish."
"If this is you being selfish," she gasped, clenching her thighs together in a vain effort to ease the ache within, "I'll never survive your version of generous."
Ivy--another kiss--let me.
That was when Ivy realized she had a serious Achilles' heel when it came to negotiating with a certain Arrow. She couldn't say no to him. Shivering at the wetness as he opened his mouth as if tasting her, she melted into him and let him be as selfish as he wanted.
*
VASIC met Aden at dawn the next morning, deep in the woods surrounding the cabins. "The gauntlet," he said, "I need you to help me run down any possible solution, no matter how dangerous."
Aden, who'd opposed the procedure from the start, said, "I've been keeping up to date with the science since the day you volunteered. Edgard and the biofusion team have pushed their limits and are now at a dead end. The only person who might have an answer is the original inventor of the concept, but--"
"All indications are that Samuel Rain is dead." Vasic had attempted to 'port to the brilliant engineer, using his face as a lock, to no avail. The only other thing that could explain the 'port failure was a complex telepathic shield. However, given the fact that Samuel Rain had literally disappeared off the face of the planet, leaving projects half-finished when he was known to be meticulous and obsessive about his work, that was a slim possibility at best.
Now, his partner met his gaze. "After giving you the last report," Aden said, "Edgard received the cross-sectional scans of several components he hadn't considered a priority because they were designed to last a lifetime. The entire biofusion team worked through the night to recheck that data--he sent me the results twenty minutes ago."
The fact Edgard Bashir had wanted Aden to deliver the news told Vasic it would be bad even before his partner telepathed him the short report. According to it, the team had found severe and inexplicable degradation in a number of tiny internal components that interfaced the gauntlet computronics with his brain. Those pieces were why this was biofusion; the connections allowed him to control the gauntlet with a thought, turning it from a grafted tool to simply another part of his body.
When the listed components fail, read the report, it will ignite a power surge directly into his cerebral cortex. His chance of survival is zero. Should no other components degrade in the meantime, the gauntlet will cause the subject to suffer a fatal neurological event in eight weeks, factoring in a margin of error of one week on either side.
Vasic stared out at the dawn as a cold, hard anger smashed through the numbness that only his emotions for Ivy had been able to penetrate thus far. 'Porting to the desert with Aden, he set it free in a roaring telekinetic storm that sucked the sand into violent tornados that howled across the landscape as far as the eye could see. If his mind attempted to tell him that emotion was pain, he didn't hear it, didn't feel it, the anger a consuming rage.
He didn't know how long it lasted, but when the wind fell, the landscape was no longer the same one Rabbit had played across only hours before, the dunes left in an unfamiliar pattern. Pulse slamming in his throat and eyes and mouth gritty with the fine sand, Vasic let the hot desert sun beat down on him and knew he'd keep fighting, keep searching for an answer. Never would he give up.
But . . . he wouldn't tell Ivy the truth of his current projected life span. He'd go against Judd's advice and keep a secret. He didn't want her sad and angry again, was thirsty for her smile, her soft sighs as she turned to honey under his touch. Even knowing what he was, what he'd done, she'd chosen him, allowed him to put his hands on her.
"Will you make sure she's safe after I'm gone?" Her heart would break; his loyal, beautiful Ivy who'd mourn for him.
Aden, his hair dusty from the sandstorm and his uniform the same, shot Vasic a look that was an answer in itself. The question didn't need to be asked.
"I won't forgive you," his partner said into the quiet. "Don't ask it."
Vasic accepted that. In volunteering for the gauntlet, he'd broken the trust formed between them when they'd been two scared boys who had no one else to turn to, a trust of brotherhood that said they'd fight together to the end. "I was weak," he said. "I'll be strong now."
Aden didn't look at him. "If you were weak, you'd have killed yourself years ago. It's your strength that doomed you--and your loyalty." Aden clenched his jaw so tight, the bone pushed white against his skin. "Take your chance at happiness, Vasic. Be with Ivy. It's little enough recompense for the lives you've saved."
"And the lives I've taken?"
"You gave yourself a death sentence."
Chapter 32
Reports of an oily black "nothingness" in the Net have been trickling in for weeks. Now there has been an unexplained outbreak of murderous insanity in Anchorage, followed by another in Manhattan. Something is clearly very, very wrong with the PsyNet.
PsyNet Beacon: Special Edition
HAWKE MET KALEB Krychek in the most remote section of the woods around the empathic compound. The other male wasn't dressed in his usual razor-sharp suit, but dark cargo pants, boots, and a camo-green T-shirt that exposed his arms to the cold, including an intricate tattoo of an eagle on his inner left forearm. His eyes, however, were the same. White stars on black. Cardinal and ruthless.
"Krychek," Hawke said, holding the other man's gaze.
"Hawke."
If someone had told Hawke six months ago that he'd be working in cooperation with Kaleb Krychek in any capacity, he'd have suggested the other person find a good mental health professional. But that was exactly what he was doing. Krychek had been the source that had confirmed Ming's location in Europe. More importantly, the cardinal had helped avert what could've been a catastrophic act of mass murder in San Francisco during Pure Psy's violent rampage.
br />
"This is about Ming," Krychek said without further ado. "I'm requesting you delay your move against him."
Hawke's wolf snarled inside his chest. "The man is a threat to my mate." He folded his arms across his white T-shirt. Unlike Krychek, he wasn't a Tk, couldn't affect the air molecules around himself--his changeling body was simply far more resistant to the cold.
Now the cardinal gave a curt nod. "Understood."
Hawke knew that wasn't just a word. From everything he'd heard from Lucas, Krychek and Sahara Kyriakus were bonded in much the same way as changeling mates. "Then you know I can't delay."
"I had no intention of getting in your way--Ming is no ally of mine," Krychek said. "However, circumstances have changed."
His wolf's claws pricking against the insides of his skin, Hawke jerked his head to the trees up ahead. "Let's walk. I can't stand still and talk about that bastard."
"You've heard of the increasing instability of the Net." Krychek's movements were almost as silent as a changeling's.
"Yeah, hard not to." Hawke leaned down to run his hand through the fur of a wild wolf that had loped over to join them, its paws soundless on the snow. "You're saying Ming's death could make the situation worse?"
"The Council might no longer exist," Krychek said as they began walking again, "but Ming still has the largest personal military force of all the former Councilors. His numbers are even greater than mine, and he's doing a significant amount to maintain calm in Europe."
Hawke wanted to tear Ming apart with his bare hands for the hurt he'd caused Sienna, but he knew his mate would be the first to tell him that no vengeance was worth the life of even a single innocent. Fuck. "I'll discuss it with Sienna."
*
HAWKE ran in human form an hour after Krychek teleported out, the icy wind rippling through his hair and pasting his T-shirt to his chest. Five wild wolves ran with him, the trees sliding past in a blur of dark green and snowy white, the scent of pine thick in his nostrils as he instinctively navigated the forest that was his territory . . . as he followed the scent of autumn fire and a wild, nameless spice.
Sienna was laughing with another SnowDancer soldier when he tracked her to her sentry position on an overlook, but her head turned toward him even before he broke from the trees. It soothed the ragged edges inside him to see her, her love for him a rippling fire along the mating bond.
Exchanging greetings with the other soldier on the outlook, Hawke waited until the young male had continued on in his security sweep before opening his mouth to speak to Sienna. She beat him to it.
"What's the matter?" The cardinal starlight of her eyes scanned his face as her hands alighted on his chest. "You're tense enough to snap."
He undid the neat braid into which she'd tamed her hair.
"Hawke!" The admonition was more affectionate than sharp. "Don't lose the tie at least."
Coming into his arms after he'd freed the ruby red silk, she held him while he rubbed the side of his face against the softness, grounding himself in skin privileges with his mate. The wolf rubbed against the inside of his skin at the same time, craving her touch as much as the man. He allowed his claws to slice out of his fingers where he'd curled his hand around her nape, giving in to the animal's need enough to calm it.
Sienna didn't flinch. Closing her eyes instead, she leaned back into his hold. "Remember that night we danced in the forest?"
He growled. "You mean the night you decided to cause a riot in that damn club?" She'd been dancing on top of the bar when he arrived, dressed in fuck-you boots and jeans that might as well have been painted on, her shirt faithfully hugging every sweet feminine curve.
Rising up on tiptoe, her warm but lightweight winter jacket pressing against his chest, she nipped his chin. "I was just trying to get a certain stubborn wolf's attention." She played her fingers through his hair, petting him to calmness. "Talk to me."
And he did. Because she was his mate, who knew him to the core and who took no bullshit. "Krychek asked me to delay the strike against Ming."
Sienna narrowed her eyes as the wild wolves who'd run with him decided to prowl to the edge of the outlook. "Since we know he'd be more than happy to see Ming dead, I'm guessing it has to do with the infection Uncle Judd briefed us on?"
"Indirectly. Turns out Ming has the biggest personal military force in the Net."
"Really? I always assumed Kaleb had more offensive forces."
So had Hawke. "I guess it doesn't matter in terms of holding power when he's so damn strong himself, and when he has the cooperation of the Arrows." From what Hawke knew of them via Judd, the deadly operatives were so highly trained, each one was equal to a hundred ordinary soldiers.
"Judd," he said now, "was able to confirm what Krychek told me, that Ming's actually using his army to maintain calm in Europe." Though total panic hadn't yet set in, tensions were apparently rising at a stratospheric rate. "If we execute him, we risk throwing a large part of the continent into anarchy."
Sienna slid her arms around his waist, her fingers clenching in the back of his T-shirt. "That's the thing with Ming, you know. He's a predator, but he's not evil all the time." A twist of her lips. "I don't know if it's political self-expediency or if he actually feels responsibility for the population on some level, but he's stepped in like this before--when I was twelve, there was massive flooding in Ireland. Ming sent his troops in to distribute supplies, get the trapped out to safety."
Hawke figured Sienna was right with her first guess as to the telepath's motivations--political self-expediency. "Ming's probably doing this to strengthen his power base in Europe."
"It doesn't matter, does it?" Sienna tucked her hands under his T-shirt and against his skin. "We can't move. No vengeance or preemptive strike is worth sacrificing a single innocent life, much less hundreds of thousands."
Hawke wanted to bare his teeth, howl his defiance, but he knew his mate was right.
Rising up on her toes after shifting her hands into his hair to tug him down, she said, "It's all right, Hawke." A kiss of words, her lips soft against his. "I'm safe and Ming will keep."
He tugged her flush against his body and tumbled to his back on the snow with her sprawled over him. The wild wolves immediately flowed to sit around them, their fur brushing against his skin.
"And," Sienna added after shoving her hair out of her face and nuzzling playfully at him, "Ming isn't going to have time to come after me if he's busy in Europe."
"Yeah, but he's never going to forget the threat you pose." Sienna had bested the ex-Councilor in their last confrontation, and arrogance such as Ming's would never forgive that--even if the other man hadn't already decided that if he couldn't control Sienna and her breathtaking psychic ability, then she wouldn't be permitted to live.
Running her fingers through Hawke's hair when a snarl erupted from his throat, Sienna said, "We wait and we watch. Ming might not always be evil, but his core is rotten. He'll revert to it soon enough, and when he does, we'll be prepared to strike." There was a battle-ready light in her eyes, this woman who'd survived a monster when she'd been only a child.
He growled in pride, and gripping her nape, hauled her down for a kiss that had her moaning. He nipped and licked and played with her until she pushed at his shoulders, her breathing choppy and her lips plump, wet. "I'm on sentry duty," she admonished with a mock scowl, before escaping his hold to stand up again. "I can't have people saying I'm getting special favors because I'm the alpha's mate."
Having rolled to his feet when she did, Hawke slid his hand down to the curve of her butt, dipping his head to kiss her throat at the same time. "You can have all sorts of favors." He coaxed her into another long, deep kiss.
"We wait and we watch," he said afterward.
Ming LeBon was still marked for execution; only the date had been changed.
Chapter 33
In this chapter, I intend to focus not on the empaths, but on those who are in long-term relationships with them. As no
ted in the statistical breakdown on page 237, these individuals are from all walks of life. Some are in professional occupations, others in trade or in the arts. Yet my observation of these men and women leads me to state with categorical certainty that they all share a single common trait--that of being highly tactile.
Excerpted from The Mysterious E Designation: Empathic Gifts & Shadows by Alice Eldridge
THE FRENETIC BUZZ of Manhattan was strange after the quiet that had been Ivy's life ever since her family's move to a rural existence in North Dakota. It took a short twenty-eight hours for her mind to reanchor, likely because she hadn't been in the compound for that long . . . or because the PsyNet knew she needed to be here. The psychic network, as they were all learning, was a living organism, albeit one none of them would ever truly understand.
Her and Vasic's apartment was on the top floor of a five-story building, the view from the windows of a busy street. Fully furnished in a clean, modern style, it had a large living area, a neat little kitchen, and two bedrooms separated by the living area. Each bedroom had its own en suite facilities.
Jaya and Abbot were in an identical apartment across the corridor, except their view was of a small park utilized by the residents in this section of the city.
The Arrows, of course, had arranged for the rest of the floor to be devoid of tenants. As for the elevator, Vasic and Abbot had rigged it so no one could accidentally or otherwise come to this floor, while the stairwell doors could only be opened via palm print.
Ivy had left her bedroom door open since they'd arrived, but Vasic hadn't touched her once after that frustrating, wonderful night in the desert when he'd taught her that her neck was an erogenous zone. At first, she'd put it down to the fact he was preoccupied with making sure the security was airtight here--she was accustomed to his protectiveness by now. It didn't annoy her; it was simply a part of Vasic.
"He can't shield me from the infection," she said to Rabbit as they stood in the living area, looking out through the window at the people passing below, scared but unaware of the insanity and death many already carried in their veins, "but he'll damn well shield me from everything else."