Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(85)

“It might not matter in the end—no one knows what pushes a predatory changeling to go rogue,” said her stubborn wolf. “Might just be a switch in my brain that flips.” Moving his hands to her back, he leaned forward so his breath kissed her lips. “When the mating song rises between a man and a woman, it’s the woman who decides whether to accept or not, but it can be blocked on the male end if he wills it hard enough.”

As Memory listened, her gut a knot, he told her how he’d learned about the male ability to block the bond from one of the cats. Tamsyn’s mate had been forced to do it for years because of the age difference between them—Tamsyn had been far too young when they’d first found each other.

“I’ve never heard the mating song,” Alexei said, big, beautiful, and so hurt. “If I ever do, I’ll do everything in my power to block it.”

Memory held his gaze, her own belligerent. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You know.” A growl. “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t.”

Huffing out a breath, Memory fisted her hands in the rough silk of his hair. “You’re mine, Alexei.” She was through with playing by his rules; what lived between them had nothing to do with gratefulness or imprinting. It had to do with Alexei and Memory. If she needed him, he needed her as much.

As for his vow . . .

Memory kissed him hard, shoving the shadows of the curse into the dark.





Chapter 39


Operation Scarab has launched on a wave of success. Results have been so stellar that we request permission to enroll twenty others in the trial. There is little point in wasting resources when Scarab could put those resources back into play within a relatively short period.

—Report prepared for the Psy Council (circa 1999)


THE POWER FLUCTUATIONS Kaleb had been sensing in the PsyNet were becoming dangerous. “It feels personal,” he told Sahara as they walked along the edge of a Venetian canal gilded in sunshine. “Unquestionably power from an individual, not a buildup in the Net.”

Her hand in his and her body clad in a red coat paired with black jeans and ankle boots, Sahara frowned. “No luck tracking it back?”

“No.” Kaleb wasn’t used to such failure. “It’s erratic. By the time I catch the surge, it’s faded at the other end.” A cresting wave that didn’t leave a trail. “I’ve dropped sniffers throughout the Net so I can react faster, but I think the mind behind the power is an intelligent one. They’re deliberately erasing the trail.”

“Are you worried the fluctuations might destabilize already shaky areas of the Net?” At his nod, Sahara chewed on the inside of her cheek. “If it’s someone intelligent enough to wipe their trail, he or she must realize the risk.”

“It’s a paradox.” He came to a stop in front of a Venetian residence newly painted in pale yellow with white trim, and half-submerged in water. “Are my eyes deceiving me or is a mouse watching us from that window?”

Sahara’s face lit up. “You know that’s Kaia’s pet, Hex.” She waved up at the creature. “Come on, Kaia and Bo will be waiting—I’m so glad we were all free to catch up for coffee. Kaia said she’d make a cherry-coconut loaf.”

Kaleb hesitated only for a second, his eyes on the line of her profile. She was his entire reason for existence, for waking up as a man and not a nightmare. And she was determined he would be friends with Bowen Knight. “Here.” He teleported in a small bag he’d left on his desk in Moscow.

“What is it?” She took the brightly colored bag, eyebrows gathered. Two seconds later she began to laugh. “Mouse treats!”

As she tugged him down by the tie to kiss him, Kaleb felt the faint ripple of another power surge in the Net, but it was fading even as his sniffers reported it. If this emergent power didn’t learn to put a yoke on their abilities, they’d cause critical ruptures in the Net.

Kaleb no longer had a choice: he had to ask Aden to unleash the Arrows, intensify the hunt. And hope the target wouldn’t panic.





Chapter 40


Wolves and bears are the worst for being nosy parkers about packmates. Bears take first prize for their sheer stubborn refusal to go away if they think you need help, but wolves win on the coordinated assault front. If a single wolf doesn’t have any luck getting through to a hurting packmate, he’ll go away . . . to come back with ten other wolves. Being pack is being family. And wolves take family seriously.

—Essay by Dr. Gio Lantana in the 2081 Wild Woman Special Edition: “Families, Packs & Clans”


MEMORY HAD HALF-EXPECTED Alexei to retreat after their passionate and painfully honest night in the forest, but he was already in the compound to run the security shift when she opened her curtains the next morning. Buoyant after the time she’d had with him, she didn’t even feel tired despite having caught only a couple of hours of sleep.

Her entire soul glowed with a deep warmth at seeing him again.

She dressed in jeans, a plain white tee, and a thick sweater in a bright blood-orange color that reflected her mood. Polka-dotted socks finished off the look—she’d pull on her sparkly sneakers if she left the cabin.

When she walked out onto her porch, Alexei strode up to her and kissed her as if he had every right. He did. Memory had told him he could have any skin privileges he wanted. The growly wolf had actually ordered her to take whatever she needed from him when it came to touch—she was to never again become touch-starved.