Play of Passion (40 page)

“You haven’t mentioned Ming or Kaleb,” Lucas pointed out, massaging his mate’s lower back unobtrusively as he spoke.

Nikita turned her eyes to the DarkRiver alpha. “Kaleb is highly unpredictable and may, in the end, double-cross everyone, but he doesn’t stay on sinking ships, either. Ming is having issues of his own and is more concerned with that than taking over this or any territory.”

“Henry and Shoshanna are the strongest advocates of Silence proceeding as it has for the past century,” Anthony added. “They want to increase the involuntary reconditionings, force those who are fractured to submit—or face total rehabilitation.”

Max’s wife, Sophia, spoke for the first time. “By refusing to sign my rehabilitation warrant, Nikita sent a signal that she was no longer toeing the party line. It has left her . . . unpopular.”

“If the packs step back in a public fashion,” Sascha said, to Indigo’s surprise, “make it clear we’re not allied with you, what will happen?”

Tension gripped the room.

“They may leave you alone,” Anthony said, “come after Nikita and me in force.”

“But I wouldn’t bet on it,” Max added, pushing back strands of his jet-black hair. “From what Sophie here tells me, far as the PsyNet is concerned, this area is
already
seen to be functioning as a cohesive unit. There’s a hell of a lot more cross-pollination than in any other sector.”

Indigo thought of the connections that tied the people in this room to each other and knew Max Shannon was right. There was also the fact that both packs had proven themselves a threat to even the most powerful Psy. No matter what, the other Councilors would not leave them in peace.

Nikita spoke into the quiet, her words directed at her daughter. “That is a decision your emotional nature would never allow you to make,” she said with icy practicality, “so why did you ask the question?”

“I have a child to protect now, Mother.” Soft, powerful words. “Priorities change.”

Nikita said nothing, and Indigo’s wolf wanted to claw at her. Because that wolf understood only family, knew that its own mother would never look at her child with such coldness.

“But,” Sascha said, “it doesn’t matter how we try to distance ourselves. Max is right—we’re all connected now. We all call this region home. They can’t attack one without affecting the other.”

That, Andrew thought, leaning a little on his mate as his body began to protest at being forced upright for this long, was the crux of it all.

Andrew wouldn’t go that far, but he could almost see Hawke calculating the possible options before saying, “We’d be more apt to take you seriously if you gave us information we could actually use.” It was a challenge.

“Henry and Shoshanna are assembling an army,” Anthony said, meeting Hawke’s gaze. “They’ve got a few Arrows on their side, along with all those who believe in Purity.”

“They lost people when they came after Hawke”—Riley’s steady voice again—“and at least one of them was a teleport-capable telekinetic.”

“A scarce resource,” Anthony agreed. “It may prove a set-back to their plans—but a small one. As Tks have one of the most dangerous abilities, they tend to most strongly embrace the Protocol.”

Giving the Scotts a powerful pool of assassins.

“Ming and Kaleb may assist us when the Scotts strike,” Nikita added. “But only if that assistance serves their own interests.”

“Some assistance,” Hawke said, “we don’t need.”

Andrew agreed. Ming LeBon, by all accounts, was a sociopath masquerading as a Councilor. Kaleb Krychek was harder to pin down, which might simply mean he was better at hiding his crimes—because according to the intel Andrew had unearthed, Kaleb Krychek had been mentored by the same sadistic killer who’d not only tortured Brenna, but killed a number of other young changeling women.

“Yes,” Nikita said, “so any defensive measures we take will have to be based on our own resources. I have a not insignificant pool of strong telepaths under my direct command, but the primary asset I bring to the table is my considerable economic strength. I am already in the process of strangling some of the Scotts’ finances.”

Anthony, it went without saying, brought his foreseers to the table.

“Have you considered a preemptive strike?” Hawke asked, and Andrew recalled the “warning tap” they’d discussed not long ago.

Anthony nodded. “However, they have a strong advantage on home ground. The opposite is true here.”

A long, silent pause broken by Hawke. “Another meeting. One week.”

“Very well.” Anthony inclined his head, the threads of silver at his temples catching the light. “There is one more thing you should know. Every strong F-Psy in the NightStar Group has made at least one spontaneous nonbusiness prediction over the past month, a highly unusual event.”

“What did they see?” Lucas asked.

“Blood and death and fire. Over and over, with no alternate futures logged. Whatever we decide at the next meeting, I do not believe any of us will escape the coming holocaust.”

 

 

Drew patted Indigo’s
butt as she lay sprawled over him later that night. “I think I’m dead.” He squeezed her toned flesh with blatant possessiveness. “And this is my idea of heaven.”

Well aware she had to keep a watch on those sneaky steamroller tactics of his, Indigo gave a half hearted growl, but she was too sated to work up any real outrage.

“I like seeing you this way.” He petted her ass again before beginning to draw designs on her lower back with a desultory finger. “All pleasured and warm and mine.”

Possessive demon. But she was the same, so she couldn’t complain. Yawning, she snuggled closer, her eyes heavy lidded. His body was hot and muscled under her touch, his heartbeat still a little erratic, and his scent . . .

Her wolf rolled into a happy little ball, but she dragged up the willpower to say, “I thought Lara ordered you to rest.” He’d literally ambushed her as she walked in the door, his mouth on hers and his body inside hers before she could corral her brain cells into objecting.

He kissed her again. “I decided pouncing on you sounded like more fun.”

Smiling against his mouth, she stroked her hand over his ribs. “That was some meeting, huh?”

“Especially that last comment by Anthony.” Shifting to accommodate Indigo when she tangled her legs with his, Andrew played his fingers through her hair. “Cats say Faith confirmed the prediction.” And Faith NightStar was the strongest foreseer in or out of the PsyNet.

Indigo circled a finger over his chest. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. SnowDancer hasn’t survived this long to fall to the Councilors’ megalomania.” Another lazy circle. “I couldn’t read Hawke—guess we’ll find out what he thinks at the lieutenant meeting tomorrow.”

“I kept expecting him to get up and tear out someone’s jugular today.”

Indigo laughed. “You sound so disappointed.”

“He’s acting reasonable. It’s vaguely terrifying.”

This time, Indigo’s laughter was long and deep. Shifting onto her back, she untangled their legs and looped her arms around his neck as he rose over her. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me.” Rubbing his nose against hers, he felt his wolf stretch out inside him in naked pleasure.

She nipped at his chin, dropped a kiss onto his lips. “Yeah. The day you begin behaving, I’ll know I have an impostor on my hands.” Playing her fingers into his hair, she swung a leg over his hip. “I’ve been thinking about what we’re going to do with the traveling you have to do for your position in the pack.”

“My team’s got things under control for now,” Drew said, his eyes such a clear blue that she felt bathed in sunlight.

“But they need you.” Pride was a fierce beat inside of her, for this wolf who was smart enough, strong enough, to reach their most vulnerable. “With Riaz here, in the den, I can come on a lot of the trips with you.”

Drew blinked, his lashes long and beautiful. “If Riley is Hawke’s right arm, you’re his left. He needs you here. Especially now.”

“I’ve spoken to him.” She pulled him down against her, enjoying the all over contact. Such exquisite skin privileges.

“We won’t be gone for months at a time; you’ve got your network set up now.”

“That’s true. But I’m still going to need to make a lot of short trips—especially to San Diego. Seb is damn strong,” he said of his replacement in that sector, “but he’s younger than me.”

“We can play those times by ear,” Indigo said, knowing she’d miss him when he was away, but also knowing the mating bond would ensure she was never lonely.

A long, quiet pause. Then, “Indy?”

Hearing the edge in his tone, she nuzzled a kiss against his neck. “What is it?”

“You were put in a situation where you had to accept the mating bond,” Drew said, shadows whispering over the clarity of his gaze when she looked up. “Do you regret it?”

She knew exactly how much it had to have cost him to ask that. “The only thing I regret is not being able to end the mating dance as I planned.”

A spark in the blue. “You had a plan?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tell.” Fingers dancing over her abdomen, threatening to tickle.

“Well,” she said, brushing her lips against his ear, “it involved tying you naked to my bed, having my wicked way with you in revenge for all your crazy-making tactics . . . and then telling you that you belong to me. Forever. No outs. No givebacks.”

Drew thrust his hand into her hair, his gaze gone that startling wolf-copper. “Tell me now.”

She did. And then, because she was in a good mood and she adored him and he’d taught her about opening her heart, she whispered more love words in his ear, until he broke every single one of Lara’s rules and drove them both to heaven a second time around.

Turn the page for a special preview of Nalini Singh’s next Guild Hunter Novel

 

 

 

Coming February 2011 from
Berkley Sensation!

Swathed in the silken shadows of deepest night, New York was the same . . . and altered beyond compare. Once, Elena had watched angels take flight from the light-filled column of the Tower as she sat in front of the distant window of her cherished apartment. Now, she was one of those angels, perched high atop a balcony that had no railing, nothing to prevent a deadly fall.

Except, of course, she would no longer fall.

Her wings were stronger now. She was stronger.

Flaring out those wings, she took a deep breath of the air of home. A fusion of scents—spice and smoke, human and vampire, earthy and sophisticated—hit her with the wild fever of a welcoming rainstorm. Her chest, tight for so long, relaxed, and she stretched her wings out to their greatest width. It was time to explore this familiar place that had become a foreign land, this home that was suddenly new again.

Diving down from the balcony, she swept across Manhattan on air currents kissed by the cool bite of spring. The bright green season had thawed the snows that had kept the city in thrall this winter, and now held court, summer not even a peach-colored blush on the horizon. This was the time of rebirth, of blooming things and baby birds, bright and young and fragile even in the frenetic rush of a city that never slept.

Letting the air currents sweep her where they would above the diamond-studded lights of the city, she tested her wings, tested her strength.

Stronger.

But still weak. An immortal barely Made.

One whose heart remained painfully mortal.

So it was no surprise when she found herself trying to hover outside the plate-glass window of her apartment. She didn’t yet have the skill to execute the maneuver, and she kept dropping, then having to pull herself back up with fast wing beats. Still, she saw enough in those fleeting glimpses to know that while the once-shattered glass had been flawlessly repaired, the rooms were empty.

There wasn’t even a bloodstain on the carpet to mark the spot where she’d spilled Raphael’s blood, where she’d tried to staunch the crimson river until her fingers were the same murderous shade.

The scent of the wind and the rain, fresh and wild, around her, inside her, and then strong hands on her hips as Raphael held her effortlessly in position so she could look through the window, her hands flat on the glass.

Emptiness.

No sign remained of the home she’d created piece by precious piece.

“You must teach me the hovering,” she said, forcing herself to speak past the knot of loss. It was just a place. Just things. “It’ll be a very good way to spy on potential targets.”

“I intend to teach you many things.” Tugging her back against his body, her wings trapped in between, the Archangel of New York pressed his lips to the tip of her ear. “You are full of sorrow.”

It was instinct to lie, to protect herself, but they’d gone beyond that, she and her archangel. “I guess I somehow expected my apartment to still be here. Sara didn’t say anything when she sent me my things.” And her best friend had never lied to her.

“It was as you left it when Sara visited,” Raphael said, drawing back enough that she could flare out her wings and angle her body into the air currents once again.
Come, I have something to show you.

The words were in her mind, along with the wind and the rain. She didn’t order him to get out—because she knew he wasn’t in it. This, the way she could sense him so deeply, speak to him with such ease, was part of whatever it was that tied them to each other . . . that taut, twisting emotion that ripped away old scars and created new vulnerabilities in a whip of fire across the soul.

But as she watched him fly through the lush black of the sky high over the glittering city, her archangel with his wings of white-gold and eyes of endless, relentless blue, she wasn’t sorry. She didn’t want to turn back the clock, didn’t want to return to a life in which she’d never been held in the arms of an archangel, never felt her heart tear open and reform into something stronger, capable of such furies of emotion that it scared her at times.
Where are you taking me, Archangel?