Mine to Possess (13 page)

“It's a good thing I make you talk—left alone you'd forget how to speak,” Talin said, trying to tease. “I'll talk to your Sascha, too.” She was no use to anyone if her mind kept crashing out of control. “But not now.” Not when she was at such a huge disadvantage. The cardinal Psy was so composed, so elegantly beautiful, that Talin felt like a drab sparrow in comparison.

Clay's eyes were on her lips and suddenly she remembered what had started this whole thing. Her palms dampened. “I told you not to look at me that way.”

He blinked, but it was the slow, lazy blink of a predator very sure of his prey. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because even as you touch me, you're hating me.” She saw the truth in the rich, sensual green of his eyes. “Admit it—you hate me for what I did.”

“Why?” A stark demand, his hand remaining clasped around the side of her neck. “Why did you give away what you should have protected?”

The question caused an emotional rock to lodge in her throat. “Will you let me go?”

His answer was to stroke his thumb over her skin.

“Clay.” When his eyes focused on her this time, she sucked in a breath. The cat was clearly in charge. Irrational fear spiked, but she refused to buckle under again. “Intimidation never worked with me.”

He growled low in his throat. “Answer the fucking question.”

“I did it so I'd feel something,” she snapped, wanting to growl back at him. “I went through life feeling nothing. I couldn't love the Larkspurs, I couldn't make friends, I couldn't do anything but pretend!”

“And did you?” His hand tightened on her neck.

Cold sweat broke out over her body but she stayed. “No. I've never felt as dead as I did when I was in those beds. I went into my mind like I used to do as a child—so I wouldn't be present while my body was used.”

His eyes shifted back to human, as if she'd caught him by surprise. “Then why keep doing it?”

“Because I thought that that was all I was good for.” A blunt response and the utter truth. “I was messed up, Clay. What Orrin did to me—it twisted me up on the inside. I couldn't get past all that poison he put into my head. I kept hearing his voice telling me that I was nothing but a whore.”

“I'm glad I killed him,” Clay said, his tone so quiet it was a blade. “I only wish I'd been more patient. I should've ripped off his dick first, made him eat it.”

Her gorge rose but she was so damn tired of running, of disappointing Clay. Maybe she was weak, broken,
human
, but she was no coward. Not anymore. Making a small move, she put her hand on his knee. He seemed to come back to her at the contact.

“Let it go,” she whispered, eyes tracing over the harsh masculine lines of his face. “Don't let him poison you, too. I've finally broken free.”

“Have you?”

“I haven't chosen to share a man's bed in eight years. That's why the fugues hurt so much,” she admitted. The time for lies had passed. “I know I'm worth more now. The therapist I went to for a while helped me see that. But it was the kids at Shine who really saved me—they're the reason I decided I couldn't keep going as I had been.”

He watched her, a cool, dangerous predator with rage coating him in a seemingly impenetrable shield.

“So many of them come from the same place we did or worse, and they keep going, keep fighting. How could I possibly think to help them, lead them, if I wasn't strong enough to do the same?” She swallowed. “They have courage and heart and they're
mine
. I can't let any more of them die, Clay. I can't.”

“I told you—I'll find this boy, Jon, for you.”

“I know you will.” Her trust in him was rooted not only in childhood memory but in her growing knowledge of the man he'd become. Strong. Protective. Beautiful. And more than a little wild. “I trust you.” A confession that took more courage than she knew she had.

Flames in the depths of his eyes. “You going back to bed?”

“No.” She tensed, wondering where this was leading. She might not be changeling, but she knew how to read desire in a man's eyes.

As if he'd heard her unspoken fear, he rose to his feet, held out his hand. “Come on, then. I'll show you some of my forest. I need to get out of here.”

Her heart smiled, that defiant hope spreading across her soul in an unstoppable inferno. “I'd like that.”

Ashaya looked at
the holographic map projected above her desk. It showed the location of her lab in relation to nearby towns and farms. “You're sure the lab won't be discovered?” she asked the man on the other side of the transparent wall of light particles.

Councilor Ming LeBon nodded. “You're surrounded by acres of cornfields, with only a single, apparently unused, access road. From above, the lab looks like a crumbling farmhouse.”

“Forgive me if my confidence doesn't mirror yours.” She terminated the projection. “You assured me the previous lab was secure. The saboteurs had no trouble getting in, detonating their bombs, and destroying the original prototype. Not to mention the targeted psychic strike that killed several of my top scientists.”

“That was an unfortunate mistake on my part,” Ming admitted with the emotionless confidence of a man so deadly, most people spoke his name in a whisper. Psy might not feel emotions, Ashaya thought, but even those of her clinical race valued their lives.

“That mistake,” Ming continued, “will not be repeated.” His eyes were those of a cardinal but unique in that Ming's had less white stars than most. Liquid black filled his eyes, broken only by one or two pinpricks of light.

The uniqueness of his eyes wasn't a well-known fact—most people had no idea of Ming LeBon's physical appearance. He was a true shadow in the PsyNet. Ashaya was well aware that the sole reason he'd allowed her to see him was because he knew the Council had her totally under their control.

It might have made a human or changeling angry to be so manipulated. Ashaya wasn't human or changeling. She didn't feel fear, anger, any negative emotion. But that didn't mean she agreed with the Councilor. “Explain the security features to me,” she said.

“Your job is on the inside. My officers will take care of security.”

“With respect, I disagree.” If she backed down now, it was all over. “I need to know the options in case of emergency—you have no way to accurately factor in the variables I'd be working with to stabilize safe transport of the prototypes. A fire would require a different response than an earthquake.”

Ming watched her, unblinking. His presence filled the room, though he wasn't a large man. The word that came to mind was compact. Compact and sleek, like the assassin he'd been before he became Council. “You're suddenly very interested in security.”

“Self-preservation.” She didn't look away. “The attack on the previous lab taught me that I am the sole person who can be trusted with my own safety.”

“Are you sure you're not considering an escape?”

Ashaya hadn't made it this far in the cold machinery of the Psy world by being easily shaken. “You don't believe that to be a true threat—you've assured my compliance.”

“True. And unless you've broken Silence, you aren't a woman prone to making foolish,
emotional
mistakes.”

She knew the emphasis had been very deliberate. “I assure you, my conditioning is intact.” Even more so than the day she had officially graduated from the Protocol. She felt nothing. There was ice where the emotional heart might have been in a human or changeling woman. “I've made my decisions and I intend to stick by them.”

He nodded once, the light catching on the pure white of his hair. She had heard that he'd been born with that hair, that skin. The lack of pigmentation in his body probably accounted for his eyes, but Ming was not an albino in the true sense of the word. No, he straddled an odd line between colorless and too much color. His hair and skin were white but the left side of his face bore a spreading birthmark the color of fresh blood.

“My physical imperfection intrigues you,” he said in that oddly accented voice that made it impossible to pin down his origins.

“From a purely scientific standpoint.” A true statement. “Why haven't you had it corrected? It would be a simple procedure.” Though Psy cared little for looks, serious imperfections were not acceptable. She knew that truth far too well. The single exception was for those born with high-Gradient powers of the mind. However, that dispensation only went so far. The Psy had no chronically ill children, no unfortunate victims of spontaneous mutations. Which made her wonder why Ming chose to flaunt his genetic flaws.

“It is about power,” he answered, though she had expected silence. “The difference between what people perceive and reality.”

Was that a threat? “I see.”

“No, you don't.” His tone didn't change. “But what I see is that you continue to argue against Protocol I.”

“I've never hidden my views.” The idea of drowning all individuality and turning many into one, a one controlled by a privileged few, was nothing she wanted to support. “I made my stance clear when I was asked to head this project.”

“You were always the best M-Psy for the job.”

So the Council had made sure she couldn't say no. “An interesting paradox, but it proves my point—escape is not an issue.”

“No.”

Ming's confidence was justified. After all, the Council held Keenan as insurance against her continued cooperation.

They held her son.

Talin was still
glowing with the wonder of the night hours she'd spent with Clay when he told her to get in the Tank. “Where are we going?” she asked, putting away the last of the breakfast dishes. “I have to go through these files.” Max had kept his promise. The Enforcement data had come through an hour ago.

“To see someone with medical training. They can look over the autopsy reports for you.” He began to gather up the hard copies she'd printed out.

“You're right.” She picked up the rest of her stuff. “That way, I can concentrate on finding the commonalities between the children.” It would help, she told herself. She wasn't just spinning her wheels while Jon was being hurt. “Clay, I'm scared.”

“Don't be. We'll find him.” With that, he led her outside and to the vehicle, putting the files in the backseat. He was all business, no sign remaining of the man who'd shown her the magic of a moonlight-dappled clearing where a herd of deer slept, his voice a warm whisper against her ear. “Tamsyn's the pack healer, but she's got a medical degree as well.”

She nodded, treading lightly. The forest run aside, last night had left them both with emotional bruises.

Clay shot her a sharp glance once they were on their way. “Stop biting your tongue, Talin. It doesn't suit you.”

So she was back to Talin in the light of day? “I was trying to be considerate.”

“Like I said, it doesn't suit you.” He navigated the vehicle down a different forest track from the one they had used to arrive at his lair. “How're you feeling?”

“I thought you didn't like to talk about feelings.”

He bared his teeth at her.

She smiled, happy now that she'd gotten under his skin. “I'm fine. I tend to bounce back pretty fast after an episode.” It had been either that or give up on life. And though she might not have cherished her body as she should have, she cherished the life Clay had fought to give her. If he hadn't killed Orrin, the other man would have used her in the most brutal fashion, then buried her in the same graveyard as his other “brides.”

“Talin?”

She came back from the memories with a shiver. “Sorry, woolgathering. Thank you for taking me out last night. It really helped.” She'd never known there was so much life in the night, so much beauty.

“That's not what you were thinking about before. It was the junkyard, wasn't it?”

She didn't have to ask how he knew. “It's our nightmare, isn't it?” No one else could hope to understand. “After they found the bodies, I used to think about how we played there. On top of their graves.”

“Yeah.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “But you brought something good into that junkyard. Maybe they felt it. Maybe it helped them rest in peace.”

It was the last thing she would have expected him to say. “I never thought of it that way. Do you really think that?”

“Why not?”

Yes, she thought, why not? “Did they ever identify all the bodies?” Pa Larkspur had banned her from following the case after she began to get obsessive about it. He'd been right—much longer and she would have fallen back into the abyss.

“Yes.” Clay's hands tightened on the wheel. “They were all DNA-banked at birth.”

“I'm glad. I visited two of their graves,” she confessed.

“So did I.” His tone hardened. “After I was told you were dead.”

The tension between them went from bearable to cutting. “I thought we'd gone past that.” Had last night meant nothing to him? “How many times do you want me to apologize?” Her guilt was crushing.

“I don't want apologies. I never did.” He swung out onto a relatively clear track. That wasn't saying much—trees stood tall and thick on either side, blocking them in a tunnel of dark green. “I want an explanation.”

“I told you,” she said between gritted teeth. “I wasn't in a good place. I needed some space. You're so bossy, you take over everything and I needed to be my own person.”

He threw her another look. “There might be some truth in that, but it's not everything. Why, Tally? Why tell me you were dead?”

“Clay—”

“Why?”

“I don't want to—”

“Why?”

“Because you left me!” she screamed, driven to the brink. “You left me!”

Clay brought the Tank to a rocking halt, his brain stunned into silence.

“You promised you'd be there for me always,” she whispered, hugging herself. “Then you left.” She shook her head and swallowed. “I know you had no choice. You were arrested. But it didn't matter. You were the only person I ever trusted, do you know that, Clay? The only one. Then you were gone and I was alone with strangers again. I was so
mad
at you!”

All this time, he had believed she hated him for killing Orrin the way he had, hated the violence of what he was. “I let you down,” he said, accepting her charge.

“Don't,” she whispered. “Don't be so nice. It makes me feel even worse.”

“‘Nice' is not a word that applies to me.” He let the leopard color his voice. “So you were angry as hell with me—why not just tell me to get lost? Why go so far?”

“Don't ask me that.” She looked out the window.

He reached across and clasped his hand on the back of her neck. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Tally, now is not the time to piss me off.”

“You can take your orders and shov—”

Biting back a growl, he shifted across the bench seat to block her in the corner, his free arm braced palm down beside her head. “Would you like to repeat what you just said?”

Big Tally-colored eyes looked up at him. No one else had eyes like hers. Out in the sunlight, the rings of amber almost seemed to disappear but here in the dark of the forest, they glowed hot.

“I was insulting you,” she said, echoes of the girl he'd known sparking in those fire and dawn eyes. “And doing it rather well if I made you lose control.”

He could smell her fear, but she hadn't budged. “Why fear me? You know I would never put a bruise on your body.” He paused, decided to trust the strength of will in that small body, and
pushed
. “Well, I might in one situation.”

“What?” She blinked. “You'd never hurt me.”

“I didn't say I would. I said I might bruise you.” He leaned in and nipped at that soft, luscious mouth of hers, drawing back before she could do more than suck in a shocked breath. “I might bite during sex.” No rejection in her scent. His gut unclenched. It had been a risk, founded on their fragile new bond of trust and his leopard's clawing need.

“I am not having sex with you.” Her voice was breathy. “Nuh-uh. Not ever.”

“Why not?” He wanted to bite her again. “What's wrong with me?”

“I don't like dark men.”

That halted him for a second. Until he picked up the deceit in the air. “Lying is a sin, Tally darling.” His leopard relaxed, soothed by the realization of her susceptibility to him.

“You're conceited, pushy, and you scowl too much.”

He tightened his hand on her nape, just a little. Then he bent his head and licked the full curve of her lower lip. She shivered and pushed at his chest. “No licking. Definitely no licking.”

“Why not?” He was almost sure he saw flames racing in the ring of amber around her irises. “I'm a cat. I like licking—all sorts of places.”

Her cheeks blazed. “You don't want me that way.”

“What way?

“Sexually.” It seemed as if she had to force the words out. “You hate me for what I did with those other men, remember?”

Both man and cat continued to wrestle with the sharp edge of jealous rage, but…“How can I hate you after what you told me last night? I'm learning to deal.”

Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey.” He leaned closer, until all he could scent was her. “I'm trying. You could be a bit more encouraging.”

“Why?” Her lips pressed down into a harsh line. “So you can play at being the all-forgiving leopard and I can abase myself at your feet? Don't tell me you're a virgin!”

“I've about had it with you,” he threatened, such a feeling of life shooting through him that he was drunk on it. Fighting with Tally was more fun than doing anything else with any other woman. “It has nothing to do with the sex.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You
hurt
yourself, Tally. You fucking did to yourself what—” He bit off his words, refusing to bring Orrin back from the grave. “That's what makes me really mad. And yeah, maybe I'm too possessive with you, but fuck that. You were ready to claw out Faith's eyes over some flowers.”

She sat silent, mutinous.

“I figure we're even in the forgiveness stakes.”

A narrow-eyed glance. “How's that?”

“I'll try to handle you being with other men that way, and you try to forgive me for not saving you from Orrin all those years ago when he hurt you.”

Silence in the car. So deep. So painful.

“How did you know?” she whispered, such naked vulnerability on her face that his leopard shuddered under the blow. “I didn't even know until you said it.”

“Because I can't forgive myself either.” He kissed her and it was soft, a whisper. “I'm sorry, Tally. I'm sorry.”

Talin's heart broke into a thousand pieces. With a jerk, she wrapped her arms around the big body of this man she adored beyond reason. Her fingers dug into his back and she buried her face against his chest, able to hear the powerful beat of his heart under her ear. “I never blamed you,” she whispered. “Not consciously.”

He leaned back against the seat, taking her with him until she was almost on his lap. “You have every right to blame me.”

“No, Clay. We were children.”

“Speak the truth now, baby. Only I and the forest will hear you.”

She didn't answer for long minutes, letting the hush of the trees settle around them. So many years, she'd kept that knot of anger and pain inside of her, letting it fester, sharing it with no one. And all that time she'd been telling herself that she was doing fine, that she'd make it. But how could she?

“I called your name,” she whispered, ripping open a wound so painful, it had never before seen the light of day. “When it started, I didn't have anyone to cry out for. But the first time it happened after we met, I called your name.”

Clay's arms squeezed, threatening to cut off her breath but she didn't complain.

“Maybe I blamed you,” she admitted, bleeding inside, knowing how much her words had to cut him. “But it wasn't anything so simple. You were the most important thing in my life. I wanted to protect you, too. That's why I never told you the truth.” So many layers, so many hurts. “And you blame me for my silence.”

“Not for what happened, Tally. Never that.”

But she knew he did blame her for stripping from him his chance to help her. “I would still make the same choice.” This moment, this instant, it was about honesty. “Orrin would have killed you if I'd told and you'd come after him. You were too young when we met.” Nine years old and mostly skin and bone, as if he couldn't eat enough to keep up with his growing body. Not to say he hadn't been tough—but Orrin had been a killer.

“I'm a leopard,” he said. “Our women are everything to us. I would rather die than have you hurt. Don't ever try to protect me again.”

“I can't promise that.” He was her life. It was that simple.

“You're the female.” His teeth grazed her ear. “You have to be submissive.”

She was tempted to use her teeth on him in retaliation. “Does that ever work?”

“It worked when you were five.”

That made her laugh and though it hurt, it was also good—with her acceptance of the truth, a truth that was a child's, not a woman's, she had unlocked the shackles binding her to the past. But even as she laughed, she wondered and worried about the impact of her words on Clay. He was protective and loyal to a fault. He also had a temper that could simmer for hours, days, sometimes weeks, before snapping. If that temper turned inward…No!

She set her jaw. She would not let that happen to her beautiful, wonderful Clay. Let this damn disease try to kill her. She would not let it win, not until she'd brought the light back into Clay's eyes.