"Either the implants weren't ready when the opportunity arose to abduct us," he said, "or they were never meant to be long-term."
"I wouldn't keep a threat alive, either, not after I had what I wanted." The alpha's gaze shifted to Zaira. "You don't talk?"
"Not when I have nothing to say," Zaira responded with glacial calm, though Aden knew she was at the edge of her endurance.
He had to get her away from the changelings. "Is there any reason for Zaira to be confined to the infirmary any longer?" he asked Finn.
"No, but I want to do a couple of final scans before I spring her. I also want to check your bullet wound now that you've been on that leg for several hours."
Aden stepped aside so Finn could complete Zaira's scans, but remained within her direct line of sight. Aloneness was Zaira's secret horror, the one foe she couldn't beat.
Being isolated and alone and hurt day after day changes a person, Aden. It turns a child into . . . into a thing that isn't quite human and not quite animal. Like any trapped creature, that child will gnaw off its own limb to escape--but if that child is a Gradient 9.8 combat-grade telepath named Zaira Neve, it'll first ask if it can gnaw off its attackers' limbs instead.
She'd said that to him at fifteen, the self-portrait both icily honest and disturbing.
You aren't an "it," Zaira.
You're right. I'm not an it. I'm a nightmare.
*
AS Finn worked on the female Arrow, Remi could feel Aden weighing him up. Fair enough. Remi was weighing up the Arrow--and his silent partner--in turn. Though Remi was predisposed to like him, he wasn't about to give two lethal strangers free rein of the compound.
"There's a small aerie just above the infirmary that you're welcome to use until the weather clears," he told them. "Or until your transport arrives."
Finn had suggested the reason a teleporter hadn't turned up already was because the two Psy had residual bruising from the implants that might be interfering with their psychic abilities. That made sense to Remi and it also made him a fraction more sympathetic to their guarded caution. If someone shoved an implant in his head that stopped him from shifting, he'd be a whole lot pissed and suspicious, too.
"Thank you," Aden said in that calm, cool voice that nonetheless held the power of a fellow alpha. "Do we reach it via an outer door?"
"No, it's connected through an internal trapdoor at the end of the corridor outside." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "The ladder's shielded from the wind and rain so you won't need outdoor gear."
Finn had asked for the modification as that particular aerie was used mostly by patients who'd recovered enough to leave the infirmary but that Finn wanted close by for two or three more days. In this case, it'd keep the Arrows within easy watching distance--there was no way to leave the aerie except through the trapdoor that led down into the infirmary corridor.
Aden and Zaira could attempt to climb down the tree itself, but then they'd be stuck outside in the storm; the weather was an excellent security measure right now. Hell, Remi had pulled back all of his sentries and ordered everyone to stay within a tight circle around the heart of the pack--anyone who went out any farther at the moment had a death wish. If the rain didn't wash you away, the lightning would fry you where you stood.
"If you have surveillance footage of your neighbors," Aden said, "we can study it while in the aerie."
Remi shook his head. "No footage." It wasn't a lie--the pack didn't have the time or the resources for in-depth surveillance of their neighbors, especially since those neighbors had minded their own business and left RainFire to mind theirs. "We can sneak up to investigate once the storm's died down. I'm betting they'll have cleared out on the off chance you two made it out."
The female Arrow, the one who was attempting to appear harmless--Remi's leopard huffed in laughter--stared impassively at the food Finn had brought in. "You need to eat," Finn said, his expression stating he'd brook no refusal this time. "Aden told me Psy prefer plain food, so I tried to find the plainest but highest-protein items I could--mixed nuts, a lentil-based spread on high-energy bread, and an energy bar."
When Zaira still didn't take the food, Aden spoke. "Eat. If you don't, you'll be weak."
Zaira took the plate from Finn on the word "weak." "Thank you."
After she was done, Remi showed them up to the aerie. "Lock the trapdoor," he said, demonstrating the mechanism, "and you'll have privacy." Not bothering with the ladder, he jumped through the trapdoor and straight down to the infirmary level. His cat ensured he landed lightly on his bare feet, his body in a slight crouch.
Walking into the infirmary, he met Finn's perceptive gaze. "Well?"
"Muscle tone on both is as good as your own," the other man replied with a grin. "Aden and Zaira are as dangerous as each other, I'd say."
That's what Remi had figured. Anyone who discounted the woman because of her size or gender was an idiot who deserved to get his head ripped off. "Anything about their injuries say they're lying to us?" Finn was a healer to the bone and he'd done his best by the two Arrows but his first loyalty was to RainFire.
"No." Finn brought up two scans side by side on the screen beside the beds. "Aden and Zaira were shot like they said, and had those barbaric things implanted. I also found signs of multiple stuns to the body."
Frowning, he tapped a laser pen against his datapad. "I guess it's the only way to contain an Arrow if you don't want to use drugs."
"Wouldn't drugs be faster, quieter?"
"Tammy told me Psy don't react well to most drugs," Finn said, referring to the DarkRiver healer. "You never know when even a specially calibrated drug will have the unintended effect of sending their psychic abilities out of control." Frown turning into a scowl, he shook his head. "I counted four stuns on her, more on him. Their abductors were playing with fire--their bodies could've overloaded at any point past three."
"That bruise on Aden's face from a stun, too?"
"Yes. I cleared it up some, but it'll take at least forty-eight more hours to fully disappear."
Remi stared at the scans that provided unmistakable evidence of violence that could've easily led to death. His focus was on building his pack, but he wasn't about to ignore a threat on his border, especially when that threat might ignite an all-out war with the Arrow Squad. Soon as the storm cleared, he'd do everything in his power to find out what the fuck was going on up there.
*
THE howling aloneness inside her skull threatening to awaken the bloody rage that had helped her survive and almost led to her execution, Zaira stood in the center of the aerie and watched Aden secure the trapdoor. Task complete, he walked over and did something that made every muscle in her body lock tight.
He put his arms around her.
"What are you doing?" Arrows didn't make physical contact except in exigent circumstances.
"You're in distress at being cut off from the PsyNet." Aden didn't release her stiff form, his body heat passing easily through the thin material of his T-shirt and her top. "You need contact."
Zaira didn't know how to answer that. She wasn't used to being in distress about anything--if she'd ever had any softness in her, it had calcified long ago. Even as a child, she'd refused to permit herself to be weak. She'd much preferred to be angry. In anger was strength, brutal and deadly.
In rage was power.
Arrow training had taught her to corral that rage, but she knew it lived inside her, as vicious as always and ready to do damage. Even now it twisted in its bonds, eyes red and only two things in mind: escape and retribution. Escape from the nothingness and retribution against those who'd put her in this position.
She had never been this alone.
Even when her parents beat her without mercy while holding her trapped within their telepathic shields, she'd had their minds within touching distance. When her Arrow trainers had locked her in their shields--all of which were constructed to ensure she didn't break out as she'd done from her parents' wea
ker efforts--she'd felt their presence in the shields themselves.
It wasn't the same, having Aden's arms around her while her mind was numb with aloneness, but the incipient rage took a wary look and withdrew from the surface of her thoughts. Aden wasn't its target, and the contact, the feel of his muscled body pressing against hers, his strong arms around her, was a living barrier to the nothingness that threatened to suffocate her.
And it was Aden, the first person who had ever treated her as a sentient being worth knowing. He'd asked her opinion on things at a time when others had seen her as a vicious monster to be broken to the bit. He'd told Zaira her ideas had value. Later, he'd also ordered her not to lose herself in the hard black box that was Arrow training.
You, Zaira, are priceless as an individual. Don't ever permit them to erase you.
In Venice, she had an Arrow who'd imprinted on her as a result of a catastrophic drug error--Alejandro followed her orders without question, would die for her in a heartbeat. While Zaira would always question Aden if she didn't agree with him, she sometimes thought she'd imprinted on him in a similar way: for her to ever turn against him, Aden would have to betray her in ways of which he was simply incapable.
Where she had a twisted conscience at best, he was that shining knight human and changeling children read stories about. The good man who would fight on the side of right and who would never abandon those to whom he'd pledged his loyalty. She knew he could be ruthless, had witnessed it, but Aden's ruthlessness fed into his overwhelming protective instincts, never into the selfish pursuit of power or glory.
Stepping in the path of danger to protect him had never been up for discussion for Zaira. It was an absolute fact: as long as she lived, she would do everything in her power to keep Aden safe. Coldly planned murder, torture, she'd do whatever was necessary in an eyeblink. He might not agree with her actions, but she was quite willing to disobey him should his life be on the line.
Every white knight needed a deadly black sword at his back.
Relaxing against him on that thought, she allowed the heat of his body to seep into hers. It wasn't protocol, but Silence had fallen, so they broke no laws. There was also no risk to the unforgiving and constant discipline that kept her sane and nonviolent; this was an aberrant circumstance that would cease to exist as soon as their brains recovered from the trauma of the implants.
Zaira couldn't afford to believe anything else, the idea of endless aloneness a horror that made the rage inside her threaten to boil over into unthinking insanity. "Are you in distress, too?" she asked Aden while maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the sleeping death that lived within her.
"How do the other races deal with this silence in their minds?" he said in response.
"Maybe that's why they make so much physical contact." She'd never before come close to understanding the tactile nature of the humans and changelings. Being physically close to Aden wasn't like being in a psychic network. It was more immediate and oddly more intense despite the fact that there were only two of them in this physical network.
Aden moved his hand to the back of her head, but the strength and warmth of his palm in such a vulnerable location didn't rouse her instinct to fight. Always, she'd thought that if she was trapped again in any way, she'd fight. However, she'd never considered the depth of her trust in Aden, never understood that being held wasn't always a prison. "I heard the healer. Your leg was injured."
"I've survived worse."
"You're supposed to keep your partner apprised of your situation."
"Not if the partner will then argue against the best course of action."
Zaira opened her mouth, closed it a heartbeat later. His decision had saved both their lives--she would've never made it out without his help, and he'd be dead from the implant had he gone out on his own. Sliding her arms around him to strengthen their two-person network, she listened to his heartbeat strong and steady under her ear . . . and thought that perhaps the other races understood a truth she'd only just realized: that even a tiny physical network connected by trust held a potent, raw power.
Chapter 14
"I NEED TO shower," she said a long time later, the howl down to a low whisper she could almost ignore and the rage curled up in a drowsy sleep deep inside her psyche.
Releasing her, Aden watched her walk toward the only internal door in the aerie.
Behind it, the facilities were neatly laid out, small packages of soap and shampoo on the counter that held the sink. One package was labeled as being for females, the other for males. Zaira didn't know why men and women would need different cleansing supplies, but she used the female set because she liked the pale blue shade of it.
Liking anything had been prohibited under Silence, but Zaira had never been able to break her pre-Arrow habit of coveting pretty things. As a child, she'd once collected shiny components from organizers discarded in the family's recycler; she'd made herself a toy that sparkled in the thin beam of sunlight that seeped through the narrow window high up in her cage.
Her parents had taken it mere days later, taken the only pretty, shiny thing she had.
A month after she met Aden, he'd noticed her staring at a faceted black button he'd taken from his pocket. Exending his hand, he'd given it to her. "You don't have to hide it," he'd said when she curled her fingers over it. "I'll tell the trainers I gave it to you to anchor you to the squad."
Holding it so tight the edges cut into her palm, she'd said, "Why are you giving it to me?"
"Because everyone should have something of their own."
It was much later that she'd discovered the "button" was actually a subtle indication of rank and that it had belonged to Aden's mother before she was promoted. Aden secretly kept it with him when his parents were out in the field. Despite that knowledge, she'd never returned it. At the moment it was safely hidden in the false bottom of a trunk in her room in Venice. It was hers; he'd given it to her.
Nobody else but Alejandro had ever given her anything. And Alejandro didn't count--he didn't have a choice. His imprinting drove him to offer her everything he owned. He would do the same even should she kick him bloody morning, noon, and night. Aden, however, had always had a choice, and he'd given her not just the pin but also other small things over the years. All of which she would never return.
Opening the shampoo, she lathered up her hair. A scent reached her nose soon afterward but it was light enough that she could ignore it. It was only as she was stepping out of the shower ten minutes later that she realized she hadn't thought about fresh clothes. A knock came on the door right then. "Zaira--a RainFire pack member dropped off a change of clothes a few minutes ago."
Cracking the door open, she took the bundle he held out.
"Most of it is borrowed from pack members," he said, "but they were able to find some new things in their stores."
"Thank you."
In the pile was an unopened package that held three pairs of panties. She broke the seal, took out a dark blue pair, and found it fit well enough. No bra, but the bandeau provided had enough hooks that she could cinch it tight around her frame. The fact that she had relatively generous breasts on a small frame had always been a source of annoyance, but she'd never considered having them reduced, for the simple reason that she didn't trust anyone to play around with her body while she was unconscious. Being injured and forced into it was bad enough--why do it on purpose?
The dark green cargo pants were big in the waist, but whoever had chosen the clothing had included a belt and punched in extra holes for her. She had to roll up the bottoms a couple of times, but otherwise, the pants were strong and warm. If necessary, she could wear them for several days before they'd need to be washed.
On top, she pulled on a black T-shirt. Since she didn't like loose fabric that an opponent could use to pull her toward him or her, she undid the belt and tucked in the tee. The short sleeves were still too big, but she'd just have to manage that risk. Her used clothing she put into the small ba
sket in the corner, guessing that RainFire had central laundry facilities she and Aden would be able to access.
Aden went in as soon as she stepped out.
She'd shared quarters with squadmates before, usually on missions, but this felt different. Maybe because these quarters were unlike any she'd ever before had, and maybe because the blackness and continuous rain outside turned it into a cocoon. Yet despite its compact size, the aerie didn't have any sense of being a prison.
There was a large window on the opposite wall and, when she checked, she saw the clasp was unlocked so she could open it at will. Also bringing the outside in was the equally large skylight above the bed. Currently covered by fallen leaves, it nonetheless also had a latch that could be opened.
Zaira decided she liked changeling architecture.
On the left wall was a small set of cubbies in which Aden had placed the rest of the clothes the changelings had dropped off. Zaira went through them, then looked around until she found her boots. They'd been placed beside the bed, no doubt by Aden. Bare feet could be a serious disadvantage in a fight, so their boots were designed to ensure they could literally roll out of bed and slam their feet into them and be ready.
The bed itself was large enough to accommodate them both, the mattress firm but the bedding soft. Quite unlike the plain cotton sheets and scratchy blanket she used in daily life. The large, flat cushions on the floor in front of the small comm screen confused her until she realized she was in a changeling living space--the cushions were meant to accommodate both human and feline bodies.
Trained to adapt to any environment she was in at the time, Zaira went down and touched the cushions, then took a seat on one.
"Comfortable?" Aden asked as he left the bathroom.
"I don't know," she said, bracing herself with her palms on either side. "The body sinks into these."
"I think that's the point." He came to stand beside her, his damp hair pushed off his forehead and his body clad in jeans and a white T-shirt that had a sports emblem of some kind in black on the front.
He looked young. Like a man who had nothing more important on his mind than a sports game. The illusion only lasted if you didn't look into his eyes. Because in those eyes lived the unwavering determination of a man who'd toppled a former Councilor from power and who had long ago won the fidelity of the most dangerous men and women in the Net.