Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(31)

Lucy patted her hand with a firm, comforting touch . . . and the tiny stabs stopped again. “I’ll have our nutritionist prepare a full meal-plan for you,” she said. “Sachets are just a stopgap.”

Mouth dry, Memory held out her hand. Lucy took it as if it was perfectly normal to have a stranger reach for physical contact. And the tiny stabs, they stopped again. Lucy maintained the contact while the two of them spoke about pragmatic things such as protein and carbohydrates. “Touch is important for healing, too,” Lucy murmured at the end, the comment a private one between them. “Wolves go crazy without it. I’ve heard Es are the same.”

Memory broke the contact with a jerking motion. The tiny stabs returned alongside her knowledge that she was no E, didn’t deserve this kind of sympathy and care.

Lucy didn’t demand that Memory explain her sudden movement. Instead she said, “Do you have any final questions for me?”

Swallowing to wet a dry throat, Memory made herself ask. “The way I move . . .”

“All your reflexes are within the normal range,” Lucy said at once. “Our senior healer is going to go over all the data I’ve collected today, and she’ll get in touch with you if there’s anything to discuss, but I see no signs of permanent damage.” Kind eyes, soft voice. “Have you begun to move better since your rescue?”

“Yes, a little.”

“That’s an excellent sign. No M-Psy will tell you this, but the body and the soul are as deeply connected as the body and the mind.” She closed her hand over Memory’s again, after first catching Memory’s eye in a silent request for permission that Memory couldn’t withhold, not with a wolf so intensely kind that it was a song in the air around her. “It might be that the way you move was a subconscious rebellion against your captor—to make things harder for him.”

Memory’s eyes widened. She’d never considered that, and yet it made perfect sense that her trapped body had rebelled in the only way left to it. “Oh.”

“It could also be that you have a psychic injury I can’t detect,” Lucy cautioned, “but again, the fact you’re improving tells me it’s not a deep one.” She squeezed Memory’s hand. “You’re not alone anymore, Memory. We’ll help you heal.”

Memory blinked rapidly, the heat in her eyes too much. She wanted to hug Lucy’s promise close, just wallow in it, but she knew the nurse couldn’t have any idea of all the factors in play. The alpha believed Memory had faked being a prisoner, that she was in league with Renault.

Alexei believed that, too.

Memory’s skin burned with a renewed burst of fury. She didn’t know why he’d held her then, why he’d rumbled words to her she hadn’t heard through the angry, hopeless, desolate haze in her head. Renault had shut every door in her face, stolen her freedom even though she’d left the cage.

No one would ever believe her, ever offer her a sanctuary where she could get strong enough to end the bastard forever. She’d wind up facing Renault weak and ragged. Memory gritted her teeth. If that was what it came to, she’d make a bomb and hide it in her clothes, take them both out in a single blast. At least it would save his future victims.

“Memory.” Lucy’s voice was breathless.

Realizing what she’d done, Memory throttled her violent emotions. Her blood was cold. Lucy would hate her now. “I’m so sor—”

“Hush.” Leaning in, the other woman gave her a firm hug. “Stretch out your claws, find your power,” she whispered in Memory’s ear before she rose to her feet and picked up her rucksack.

Memory followed the nurse out of the bedroom. Lucy went to Hawke. Memory watched the alpha put one arm around her shoulders before the two of them stepped out of the substation.

Alexei met Memory’s gaze, a scowl darkening his face. “I can’t take you to our den.”

She’d known it was coming, but the proclamation still punched all the air out of her. If she wasn’t welcome in SnowDancer territory, then she’d never again see him once he drove her out of wolf lands. And no, she wouldn’t miss him; even she wasn’t crazy enough to miss a golden wolf stuck in growl mode.

Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails cutting into her skin.

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! Despite the fact she had nowhere to go, knew no one in the world. The only person who’d have taken her in was long dead, the last image she had of her mother the horrific one of her body discarded on the hardwood floor of a small home on the outskirts of Carson City, Nevada.

“Fine,” she snapped, because she would not beg. All she had left was her pride.

“Simmer down, lioness—save the death stare for when I really annoy you.” The damn provoking wolf put his hands on his hips while she decided she’d put two tiny, biting insects on him. “The pack needs to figure out if you’re a threat, and you need to learn psychic control before you push a bunch of wolves into a bloodbath.”

Memory’s stomach fell. “I could do that?” Another horrible “gift” to add to her psychopathic résumé.

“Chances are that SnowDancer wolves are disciplined enough to grit their teeth and release the aggression in another way, but yeah, you could push deadly buttons in less well-trained predators.” A ring of amber appeared around the gray of his irises. “You look like you’ve swallowed acid—lot of people would love that type of power.”