Authors: Nalini Singh

Branded by Fire (42 page)

BOOK: Branded by Fire

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“I hate you both,” Mercy said without heat.

Riley put his arm around her. “Me, too.”

EPILOGUE

There was a celebration in the Pack Circle a week later, after Tamsyn and Lara had cleared both Mercy and Riley. It was a joint celebration—of the new life coming into the pack, and of Riley and Mercy’s mating.

Bas thumped Riley on the back. “Look after her or I’ll scalp you in your sleep.” A smile so feral that if Mercy hadn’t known better, she’d have thought her brother didn’t even know what a suit was, much less a financial market.

“Judd said one day it would come back to bite me,” Riley muttered, leaning on his crutches.

“He won’t hurt you,” Mercy teased. “If he does, I’ll use his kitten defurring tools on him.”

Bas showed her teeth. “I’m bigger than you. And I intend to cheat.”

Laughing, she pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek, then pushed him into the dancers. “Go make some woman’s night.” And there were a lot of them giving Bas the eye.

Grinning, he blew her a kiss and merged into the dancers. Grey, she saw with a surge of warmth in her heart, was flirting outrageously with Mia, both of them none the worse for their short kidnapping. Sage was operating a camera somewhere, recording this for Keely’s archival files.

“This is nice,” she said, leaning into Riley’s side as they stood with their backs against a large tree trunk. “Both our packs here.”

“And everyone behaving.” He nodded at the two groups of juveniles, one on either side of the Pack Circle. That the event was being held here was another step into trust. Changelings guarded their Pack Circles zealously. During Dorian’s mating ceremony, certain wolves had been invited down, but it had been a limited number.

But with Riley and Mercy’s mating, Lucas had decided it was time to extend the hand of friendship. Hawke had snarled, but he’d taken it. There was going to be another joint party up in the SnowDancer circle a month from now. However, the SnowDancer alpha had only made a fleeting appearance at this party—Mercy had a good inkling why.

“Hey, as long as they don’t claw into each other,” she said, putting the issue from her mind, “I don’t care how much they glare.”

“Poor Sascha,” Riley said, a laugh in his voice. “She can’t find a minute to herself.”

Mercy glanced over to see Sascha being offered food, drink, a blanket, suggestions for baby names, and God knows what else. Changelings adored children, but their fertility rate wasn’t as high as that of humans or Psy. As a result, any birth was cherished. And any pregnant woman was cosseted, petted, and generally driven out of her mind by the others in the pack—male
and
female.

As Mercy stood there, amused by the knowledge that Lucas would most certainly be getting a strip torn off his hide later tonight, she glimpsed Kit slipping off into the forest. That wasn’t unusual. He was a twenty-year-old male, after all—a gorgeous one. What was unusual was the girl holding his hand. Sienna Lauren.

Oh, shit.

Mercy was about to go after the two—if only to stop an interpack incident, when Riley said, “Look at her.”

She followed his gaze to find Brenna laughing up at Judd, her golden presence a stark contrast to her mate’s quiet intensity—but no matter what he looked like, there was no doubting the bond between the two. “They’re good together.”

Riley hugged her to his side. “Yeah, they are.” And for the first time, there were no shadows in his eyes when he looked at his sister. It was, Mercy thought, an excellent start. “God,” he continued, “I can’t believe I used to play horsie for her when she was a little bit.” He shook his head. “What games did you play with your brothers?”

“I considered Bas my own personal doll. I used to dress him up in sentinel gear and take him on raids.”

Riley laughed and it was such a rich, open sound that her leopard was enchanted. “Dance?” she asked.

He looked down at his cast. “If you don’t mind staying in one place.”

“If that’s pasted up next to you, sounds about perfect to me.”

Riley proved adept at balance. And fully capable and willing to hold on to his mate when the going got shaky.

Later that same night, tired but unable to sleep, Sascha went to the safe and took out the Eldridge book.

“Sascha?” Lucas called out. “Come pet me.”

“Only if you pet me, too.”

The response was quick-fast. “Deal.”

Smiling through her trepidation, she walked into the bedroom and lay back against her mate’s seated form. “Before we do that, I think it’s time we read this.” Because this wasn’t about her anymore. It was about her baby, too, a child who might be born with his or her mother’s gifts.

Lucas ran a hand through her hair and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Taking a deep breath, she flipped to the first page of text.

Introduction

The E-Psy, or empaths, as they are called in the vernacular, are something of a peculiarity. The powerful among them can heal the most devastating of emotional wounds. Folklore says they can cure insanity. That has never been proven. What has been proven is that they can certainly help people through difficult emotional times, absorbing negative emotion in a way that defies even psychic explanation.

During the course of my research for this thesis, I was privileged to interview one hundred E-Psy in the greater New York region, of which three were cardinals, twenty were high-range (Gradients 6.5-9.9), thirty-seven were midrange (Gradients 4.0-6.4), and forty were low-range (Gradients 0.1-3.9).

“Lucas, that’s a lot of E-Psy in one location. If she got that many for a thesis project . . .”

“Means there were a lot more around in the Net.”

Sascha nodded. “Backs up what Faith told us—the NetMind is hiding so many others.” Snuggling against him, she continued reading . . . and found Alice Eldridge’s thoughts mirroring her own.

E-Psy have never been rare, but not much is known about them, perhaps because we study that which we are afraid of. And no one is afraid of the empaths. After having near-constant contact with them for close to twelve months, I feel it is safe to draw the following conclusion: E-Psy are some of the warmest, most welcoming people on the planet. They are quite delightful companions and are rarely seen alone.

However, it is this very warmth and generosity of spirit that makes the other aspect, or in some cases, expression, of their ability troubling to many. It is the ethical dilemma which disquiets them the most and one I will be focusing on in the second half of this book.

Sascha broke off to look at Lucas. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me nothing can ever be black or white?”

She thought about it. “Shades of gray.” She nodded. “If I was utterly good, I’d never understand badness.”

“On to the next page?”

“Oh, yes.”

Riley didn’t say a word for several minutes when Mercy mentioned the Kit-Sienna thing sometime in the wee hours of the morning. “That,” he murmured at last, “could be a problem.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“We can’t do anything about it—they’re adults.” He ran his hand down her back. “But we can keep an eye on
all
the players.”

“Agreed.” A laugh bubbled out of her. “Look at us, in bed and talking Pack business.”

A pause. Then, “You make my heart beat, Mercy.”

Her heart jumped into his hands all over again. He was so damn calm and he made those statements as if they were facts of life.
“Riley.”

Kisses on her cheek, along her jaw. “So, how many brat-lets do you want?”

“As many as it takes to drive you insane.” Her throat was husky with emotion.

“Then one redheaded little girl should do it.”

“I love you.” Beyond the mating bond, beyond the sensual draw, she quite simply loved Riley. “More every single day.” And she didn’t care how sappy that sounded.

A slow, perfect Riley smile. Just for her.

Turn the page for a preview of
Nalini Singh’s next
Psy-Changeling romance

Blaze of Memory

Available November 2009 from
Berkley Sensation!

DEATH

Death followed the Forgotten like a scourge. Relentless. Without pity.

They’d sought to find hope when they dropped from the PsyNet, wanting only to build a new life away from the cold choices of their brethren. But the Psy in the Net, their hearts iced over with the emotionless chill of Silence, refused to let the dissidents go in peace—for the Forgotten, with their hopes and dreams of a better life, were a roadblock to the Psy goal of absolute power.

Among their numbers the defectors counted a large contingent of telepaths and telekinetics, medical specialists, men and women gifted in psychometry, and so much more. These powerful individuals, these
rebels
, stood as the only real psychic threat to the increasingly omnipotent Psy Council.

So the Council cut them down.

One by one.

Family by family.

Father. Mother. Child.

Again and again, and
again.

Until the Forgotten had to run, to hide.

In time, memories were lost, truths were concealed, and the Forgotten almost ceased to exist.

But old secrets cannot be kept forever. Now, in the final months of the year 2080, the dust is rising, light is shining through, and the Forgotten stand at a crossroads. To fight is to face death once more, perhaps the total annihilation of their kind. But to run . . . is that not also a kind of annihilation?

CHAPTER 1

She opened her eyes, and for a second, it felt as if the world shifted. Those eyes, the ones looking back at her, they were brown, but it was a brown unlike any she’d ever seen. There was gold in there. Flecks of amber. And bronze. So many colors.

“She’s awake.”

That voice, she remembered that voice.

“Shh. I’ve got you.”

She swallowed, tried to find her own voice.

A raw hiss of air. Soundless. Without form.

The man with the brown eyes slipped a hand under her head and tilted it up as he put something to her lips.

Cold.

Ice.

She parted her lips, working desperately to melt the ice chips in her mouth. Her throat grew wet but it wasn’t enough. She needed water. Again, she attempted to speak. She couldn’t even hear herself, but he did.

“Sit up.”

It was like trying to swim through the most viscous of fluids—her bones were jelly, her muscles useless.

“Hold on.” He all but lifted her into a sitting position on the bed. Her heart thudded in her chest, a fluttering trapped bird.

Beat-beat.

Warm hands on her face, turning her head. His face shimmered into view, then twisted impossibly sideways.

“I don’t think the drugs are fully out of her system.” His voice was deep, reached deep, right into her beating fluttering heart. “Have you got—Thanks.” He raised something.

A cup.

Water.

She gripped his wrist, her fingers almost sliding off the vivid masculine heat of his skin.

He continued to hold the cup out of reach. “Slow. Understood?” It was less a question than an order—in a voice that said he was used to being obeyed.

She nodded and let him bring something to her lips. A straw.

Her hand tightened on him, she was so thirsty.

“Slow,”
he repeated.

She sipped. Rich. Orange. Sweet. Despite the ruthless edge in her rescuer’s voice, she might’ve disobeyed and gulped, but her mouth wasn’t working right. She could barely draw up the thinnest of streams. But it was enough to soothe the raw flesh of her throat, fill the empty ache in her stomach.

She’d been so hungry for so long.

A flash of something in the corner of her mind, too fast for her to grasp. And then she was staring into those strangely compelling eyes. But he wasn’t just eyes. He was clean, almost harsh lines and golden-brown skin. Exotic eyes. Exotic skin.

His mouth moved.

Her eyes lingered on his lips. The lower one was a little fuller than seemed right on that uncompromisingly masculine face. But not soft. Never soft. This man, he was all hardness and command.

Another touch, fingers on her cheek. She blinked, focused on his lips again. Tried to hear.

“. . . name?”

She pushed away the juice and swallowed, dropping her hands to the sheets. He wanted to know her name. It was a reasonable question. She wanted to know his name, too. People always exchanged names when they met. It was normal.

Her fingers clenched on the soft cotton sheets.

Beat-beat.

That fluttering bird was back, trapped in her chest. How cruel.

Not normal.

“What’s your name?” His eyes were piercing in their directness, refusing to let her look away.

And she had to answer. “I don’t know.”

Dev looked into that cloudy hazel gaze and saw only a confused kind of fear. The need to protect ignited in his gut, but it was a need he couldn’t afford to indulge. “Glen?”

Dr. Glen Herriford frowned from the other side of the bed. “Could be a side-effect of the drugs. She was pretty doped up when she came in. Give it a few more hours.”

Nodding, Dev put the juice on the table and returned his attention to the woman. Her lashes were already dropping. Not saying anything, he helped her down into a position flat on her back. She was asleep moments later.

Jerking his head to the door, he walked out with Glen following. “What did you find in her system?”

“That’s the funny thing.” Glen tapped the electronic chart in his hand. “The chemicals all add up to plain old sleeping pills—not even an overdose.”

BOOK: Branded by Fire

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