Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(45)

She also felt Sascha’s endless love for her little girl, her passion and adoration for her mate, and her complicated emotions toward her mother. Underneath it all lay a deep sense of contentment and belonging, the purest happiness Memory had ever felt.

It was as she was withdrawing that she caught the ghost of a moment. Her cheeks burning, she scrambled out. “Sorry.”

Sascha laughed, the sound warm and unabashed. “My fault—I shouldn’t have let my thoughts wander.” Her eyes danced. “Lucas was in a playful mood this morning.”

Memory wanted to press her hands to her cheeks, but Sascha held one, Alexei the other, and she didn’t want to give up either. Especially when Alexei’s threat of biting her had just taken on a whole new meaning. Sascha’s mate had used his teeth on her this morning, and it’d had nothing to do with punishment or pain. The echo of Sascha’s delight shivered along Memory’s nerves.

“Thank you for letting me see you.” And for showing me that a male can be a source of pleasure and happiness. She telepathed the last, embarrassed to have Alexei hear the words.

Sascha’s reply was telepathic, too. I think you’ve already begun to learn that yourself. A quick glance toward where Memory held Alexei’s hand. He growls at you and you don’t bat an eye, even though he’s one of the most lethal wolves in SnowDancer. I’ve never seen anyone poke Lexie like that. Her smile deepened. You’re an E, Memory. Trust your instincts about people.





Chapter 21


Rogues are our curse.

Words spoken by more than one predatory changeling through the ages. And there is a certain cold truth in it, for nature appears to have no use for these most damaged of our kind.

—Changeling Rogues: Broken Minds & Broken Families by Keelie Schaeffer, PhD (Work in Progress)


MEMORY’S BRAIN FELT like noodles. Sascha had made the call to give her the first lesson in shielding then and there at the cabin—trainee empaths might otherwise impinge on her emotions without realizing it. Memory also needed to learn to control her own wild broadcasts.

When Memory had flushed and apologized for her erratic fluctuations, Sascha had shaken her head. “Everyone in the compound is on training wheels. Just remember they don’t mean to do it any more than you do.”

The idea of being ordinary in that way, just another empath finding her feet, it had made her feel good on the deepest level. Now she sat back in the passenger seat of Alexei’s vehicle with her eyes closed, his primal presence wrapped around her, and practiced putting up and pulling down the basic shields Sascha had helped her construct: one to bolster her privacy on the PsyNet, the other to protect her in the everyday world.

“The more times you rebuild,” Sascha had said, “the stronger each shield will become. You’ll instinctively begin to fill in any holes, patch up any vulnerabilities. We’ll practice more complex shields as we carry on, but a strong base shield of each type will give you a solid foundation.”

Prior to the lesson in shield mechanics, the cardinal had—with Memory’s full agreement—taken a careful look at Memory’s mind. She’d linked them telepathically so Memory could follow her footsteps and so Sascha could directly show her the problem areas.

Memory had seen the bruises, seen, too, the healing at the edges. In the aftermath, Sascha had made contact with an M-Psy who worked in the field of Psy brain injuries, and discussed Memory’s situation without specifics, while Memory listened in.

“She’s a NightStar doctor,” Sascha had explained to Memory before making the call. “Faith NightStar is pack. We have access to the NightStar medics through her—and they’re world experts in brain trauma.”

Memory knew little of the Psy who saw the future, but even she’d heard of NightStar. According to the comm reports she’d seen, its foreseers had the highest rates of accuracy in the world—and Faith NightStar was their violently gifted cardinal. To see the future . . . what did that do to a person? That the famed clan had brain trauma specialists on call was an answer in itself.

This specialist had asked to see a telepathic snapshot of the bruised part of Memory’s mind, which Memory had okayed. While Sascha only had telepathy to 3.5 on the Gradient, it had been enough to bounce the scan to the medic, as NightStar had a small base right up against DarkRiver land.

Memory would ask about the politics of it all later. Today, she was simply grateful that the specialist had backed Sascha’s call that her brain bruising would heal without any permanent effects.

“Hard day.” Alexei’s voice vibrated in her bones.

Soaking in the intimate sensation, she lifted her lashes and looked out at the falling night. Time had passed quickly in the cabin. At one point, Alexei had left to bring them food. The leopard outside had stayed, keeping watch while appearing to nap like a giant kitten.

“I feel as if I’ve traveled a thousand miles in the space of a single day.” The Memory who’d entered that cabin was not the Memory who’d left. “Sascha insists I’m an E.”

“I guess you’d better get used to being in the Collective—word is, once you’re in, there’s no chance of parole.” Amusement in the statement. “Es hold on to their people.”

“I’m beginning to understand that.” Regardless, it’d take her time to process. Going from believing herself a monster to accepting the label of an empath was no easy matter. “Ashaya’s so . . . real, but Amara . . .”