Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(18)

It was so potent right now that it was as if Memory’s intruder sat on her bed, but when he glanced back, he found her alone; she lay tightly curled up under the blanket, her eyes scrunched shut and her hands over her ears.

Baring his teeth, Alexei prowled out to hunt down the intruder who’d so badly abused her. But the farther he got from Memory, the more the scent dissipated. Outside the bedroom, he found only quiet. The security system showed no incursions, and he swept the entire area without finding so much as an insect.

He stepped into the bedroom . . . and the ugly scent slapped him in the face.

Memory was sitting on the edge of her bunk now, her head down and her hands still over her ears. She was whispering something under her breath that he couldn’t understand. Not until he was only a foot away from her.

“Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out.”

An endless, repetitive loop steeped in acidic fear underneath the cold and metallic scent that made him want to kill. The only problem was that the scent was coming from Memory.

Crouching down in front of her, he said, “Memory.” When that didn’t seem to penetrate, he reached out to grip her wrists. “Wake up, little lioness.” Her skin was hot, her muscles rigid. He pulled gently but firmly. She resisted.

He growled loud enough to fill the space.

Her head lifted . . . and her eyes, they were obsidian.

The tiny hairs on his nape prickling, Alexei nonetheless didn’t break the physical contact. “Wake up,” he ordered again, dead certain she wasn’t truly conscious of him.

Eyes of obsidian gleamed unseeing at him. He felt an eerie sense of looking into an endless, vast darkness. An abyss without end.

“Memory.” He shook her with care not to hurt, only to awaken.

Cool curls hit his hands, her hair not yet fully dry. Those haunting eyes shimmered with color, an oil slick under the sun, and he suddenly remembered a throwaway comment his fellow lieutenant Judd, a telekinetic, had once made—that empaths were “happy rainbows” who swept everyone along in their wake.

Did Memory’s psychic presence have color? Did this mean she was coming back to reality?

He stroked his thumbs over the inner surface of her wrists, the skin there soft and delicate. “Your eyes are beautiful.” Deep pools of mystery that fascinated his wolf.

He didn’t mention her scent, which was vacillating wildly between the ugly metallic one that made him want to snarl, and the inherent warmth of what he’d picked up from her before this waking. It was almost as if Memory were two people.

“Channel the woman who wanted to stab me with a fork,” he told her. “Fight your way out.”

Her breath hitching, her eyes seeming to focus on Alexei. “He’s hunting me.” A plea and an angry fury at once.

Alexei’s vision changed, his wolf rising to the surface. “PsyNet?” He knew that, at its core, the sprawling psychic network was a lifenet. Psy minds needed a connection to a stable psychic network in order to survive. But the PsyNet also flowed with data and could be used for mental communication—or an attack.

“Yes.” The single word was gritted out through clenched teeth. “Renault.”

“Can you hold him off?” Alexei reached for the phone he’d kept in the pocket of his sweatpants.

Memory grabbed at his wrist. “I need . . .” Harsh breaths. “The contact, it helps.”

To a wolf, touch was life. It made perfect sense to Alexei that, cut off from her own pack, Memory would reach for him. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he told her. “It’ll give you skin contact while I make a call to get you help.”

Her skin was cold where it met his, her hand icy. “I screamed on the PsyNet when he came at me, and he retreated, but this region doesn’t have many minds. He’s coming back.” Rapid-fire words, jolting breaths. “I’m not strong enough yet.”

“Scream again,” Alexei said. “As many times as it takes. Keep him distracted.” It infuriated him that he couldn’t take out her attacker, but sometimes, a battle was won with clear thinking and strategic use of available options. “Just hold him off for half a minute more.”

Her nails dug into his shoulder, but the small irritation was nothing to his wolf. He still held her other wrist, continued to stroke the pad of his thumb over the soft skin on the inside curve while he made the call. “Aden,” he said when it was answered on the other end. “I need PsyNet help.”

Aden Kai, leader of the deadliest squad of assassins and shadow operatives in the world, and a man who had a seat on the Psy Ruling Coalition, didn’t question why a wolf lieutenant needed psychic assistance enough to use this emergency call code known to a strictly limited number of people. “Details,” the Arrow leader said, echoes of Silence yet in his voice.

Memory began to shiver, the tremors shaking her frame.

Releasing her wrist, Alexei pulled her into his lap so she was against the naked skin of his chest. Her arms went around him, her cheek pressed to his heart. He slid his own hand under her hair, curling it over her nape. “An E is under attack on the PsyNet.” He knew the psychic network was a vast place, a single mind impossible to locate without markers, but in this case, he could give Aden very specific directions. “We’re in den territory, not far from the empathic training ground.”