The Psy-Changeling Series, Books 6-10 (14 page)

A shiver sizzled down her spine even as she grinned at Sascha’s comment. Glancing instinctively to the right, she saw Riley heading out from the area where the boys were contained. “Finished?”

“This time.” He looked at Sascha. “They’re calling you the Devil Incarnate.”

Smile wide, Sascha dusted off her hands. “My work here is done.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go see Toby,” she said, mentioning Judd’s nephew, “and then I’d better go rescue Hawke and Lucas from each other. You two going to sit in on this meeting?”

“I might swing by, see if they need us for anything,” Mercy said. “After that, I’m gonna go for a long run, clear my head.” There was too much crap clogging her up—the Human Alliance going suddenly psychotic, juveniles acting up now of all times, and this damn, unquenchable thirst for Riley “the Wall” Kincaid. They’d been antagonists for so long, the increasing complexity of her feelings for him kept catching her unawares.

Riley didn’t say anything as he accompanied her to Hawke’s office, which didn’t surprise her. The wolf could be very quiet when he was thinking—and strange as it was, she’d come to be comfortable with his silences. Because Riley never stopped
being
there, his focus as absolute as always.

Hawke was picking up a call as they walked in. Mercy leaned over the back of Lucas’s chair, intending to ask if he needed her to do anything before she headed down, but Hawke swore, sailor-harsh, before she could get a word out. She looked up to find his face a mask of anger and, oddly, pity.

“Send it through,” he said, and flicked on the comm panel to their left.

The screen filled with the image of a golden-blond SnowDancer soldier. “We found him collapsed on the edge of the cliff. Looks like he was trying to crawl over it. Hold on.” The soldier turned his cell phone so they could see the rough tent that had been rigged a few feet away. Getting closer, he lifted the edge of the canvas to reveal the male who lay unconscious inside.

“He’s covered in blood, and as far as we can tell he’s continuing to bleed from the nose and ears.” A pause. “Jem says it looks like the fine veins in his eyes are starting to go as well. We don’t have the resources to treat him—I’ve called an Evac unit, but I don’t think it’ll get him to a hospital in time.”

“Anything to tell us who he is?” Hawke asked.

“Full ID in the pocket—Samuel Rain, a robotics expert employed at Psion Research.”

“That’s a Psy company,” Mercy muttered. “He Psy?”

“Doesn’t have the smell,” was the response. “But from the density of his bones, I’d say so. One more thing—he had a loaded semiautomatic in the trunk of his car.”

Lucas tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “We can get word to someone who might be able to get him out of there in time, get him directly to Psy medics.”

The SnowDancer alpha didn’t hesitate. “Do it. Jesus, what a way to freaking die.”

Mercy was already pulling out her cell phone, knowing exactly who Lucas was talking about. Anthony Kyriakus knew a very, very fast teleporter. “What are his precise coordinates?” Heading out of the office soon as she had that info, she made the call to Faith in private.

Riley met her eyes as she reentered. “Still keeping secrets?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me you share everything?” She returned her attention to the comm panel. “What would drive a Psy to throw himself off a cliff?”

“He probably didn’t want to use the gun,” Riley said with quiet pragmatism.

Lucas shoved a hand through his hair. “If this kind of thing is the outer edge, what’s going to happen when the PsyNet really fractures?”

“Hell on earth,” Hawke said, eyes on the screen.

“Whoa!” It came from the soldier on the cliff. “He’s gone.” He switched the camera to show the empty spot where the body had lain. “Fuck, that teleporter must be good to do it from a distance.”

Mercy agreed. She’d rarely seen a teleporter in action, but Sascha had told her that most needed contact with their “passenger.” “Well,” she said after the comm screen cleared, “I guess that’s that.”

“Do you think,” Hawke murmured, those pale wolf eyes contemplative, “they’d do the same for us if we were lying injured and bleeding in front of them?”

“Depends on the individual Psy,” Mercy answered, having some idea of how much Hawke despised most of the psychic race. “Lucky for this guy we aren’t the vicious animals the Council makes us out to be.”

Riley stirred beside her. “You need us the rest of the day?”

It was Lucas who answered. “No. Go . . . play.”

Hawke’s grim look turned wolf-wicked as Mercy narrowed her eyes at her alpha and left the room. She felt Riley exit beside her, though he didn’t say a word until they were back in the main corridors. “I guess the secret’s out.”

“What’re you talking about?” she said, the devil in her taking over. Seeing that bloody, broken body had been the final straw—she needed to decompress. And what better way than by teasing Riley?

“You,” he said, his voice dropping as she stopped and turned to face him, “and me.”

Her nipples hardened to aching points, but she made her expression dismissive. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels, decision made. Excitement was a taut bow inside her as she said, “I had an itch. You scratched it. End of story.”

A low growl that made her thighs clench. But she smiled and wiggled her fingers. “See ya later, wolfie.”

Riley was about to stalk after her when he belatedly realized he was no longer alone. Scenting the air, he found out how the intruder had snuck in under his defenses. His wolf didn’t consider his younger sister any kind of a threat. “Bren, don’t say a word.”

Brenna took one look at Riley’s face and bit back a laugh. Not fast enough. Her oldest brother turned to her with
that
look. The one that made everyone behave. But this time, she was laughing too hard to hold it in any longer.

Riley just waited until she’d gotten it out of her system before raising an eyebrow.

“You and Mercy. I love it!”

Silence.

She sniggered. “You wanted Little Miss Submissive and you got a DarkRiver sentinel.” Her giggles started again, deep in her throat.

“Brenna, I’m still your eldest brother.”

“And I’m mated to a big, bad Psy.” She put on her best annoying little-sister voice. “Plus you know you love me.”

“I know that right now, I wish I had some duct tape to put over your mouth.”

Oooh, that was interesting. Nobody really ever
got
to Riley. She knew he loved her to pieces, but even she had to prod and poke at him for a really long time before she got a reaction. “Mercy and Riley sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i—” She shrieked as he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and strode toward her quarters.

Her laughter came unbidden. She was giddy with delight. Riley had always been mature, contained, but he’d also had a sense of quiet humor. He was the kind of man children loved because he was both patient and open. But he’d changed after her abduction, withdrawn all that warmth, become so hard that nothing seemed to reach him. She hated that. And she loved Mercy for refusing to allow Riley to be this stranger he’d turned into.

Her nostrils flared at the familiar scent of ice laced with something that was uniquely Judd.

“I assume you have a reason for manhandling my mate?” Cool words but his amusement was apparent.

“Riley likes Mercy,” she stage-whispered, trying to twist around to look at her mate. “But she told him that h—oomph.” Riley set her on her feet without warning.

She swayed, but Judd’s hands on her hips kept her upright. Pushing her hair off her face, she leaned into her sexy Psy mate and smirked at Riley. “Sooo . . .”

“Judd.” Riley ignored her. “You’re obviously not interesting enough for my sister—she’s got way too much time to poke her nose into other people’s business.”

Judd wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin on her hair. “I’m more interested in you and Mercy.”

Growling—Riley actually
growled
—her big brother turned on his heel and left. Brenna waited until he was out of hearing distance to say, “I hope Mercy puts him through the wringer and brings him out whole on the other side.”

“He was changed by your abduction. He’ll never be who he was before.”

“I know.” She rubbed her cheek against his arm. “But I want him to learn to be happy again.”

A pause.

She waited, knowing her mate well enough to understand he was thinking things through. He was so logical that it delighted her each time he let go. And he had a habit of doing that in bed. Which reminded her, she needed to replace the iron headboard that had buckled under the force of his telekinesis last night. At least it had held up better than the wooden stuff. Hmm, maybe she should start thinking about futons.

“Your brother is used to being in charge,” Judd said at last. “So is Mercy.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

God but she loved his honesty, his willingness to show her everything he was. “Riley,” she said, turning to nuzzle at his throat, “has this image of a submissive female he’ll be able to pamper and protect, but he’d never be able to truly
be
who he is with that woman.” She shook her head. “He needs someone strong enough, tough enough, to refuse to put up with those walls he uses to keep everyone at a distance.”

Even if he was too stubborn to see it.

 

 

After waving at Riley, Mercy took off at the speed of light. It didn’t matter that Brenna had distracted him. She knew he’d come after her—she’d read the intent loud and clear on his face, in his scent.

It was why she’d pushed at him that way, picking at his possessive, territorial instincts—instincts she’d known would be running high after the events of the previous forty-eight hours. This time, he wouldn’t be satisfied by anything other than a hard, sweaty bout of either raw sex or violence. And she knew very well which he’d choose. Her leopard smiled at the challenge, even as the feminine core of her tightened, readying itself in expectation.

Part of her wondered what the hell she was doing.

The rest of her didn’t care.

Smile edged with excitement, she stayed in human form as she headed out of the White Zone, the safe area around the SnowDancer den, and into the huge tract of land beyond. This area wasn’t patrolled, being pincered between the White Zone and the heavily guarded perimeter. It was the zone where the juvenile and adult wolves felt free to hunt, run . . . play.

Her legs jumped over a fallen log without her conscious command, her body moving with a rhythm that could come only from being changeling. She was fast, faster than any other female in DarkRiver. But she could feel him gaining on her. So she pushed and went impossibly faster.

If the wolf wanted her, he’d have to catch her.

Deep in her primal brain, she knew what she was doing. Dominant leopard women never came easily into a lover’s arms. They tested their chosen male, made him prove he was capable of handling all the female had to give. More, that he was willing to fight to get it.

But Mercy wasn’t ready to think about the implications of her challenge. All she knew was that this was the most exhilarating game of her life. She could scent Riley in the breeze as he ran behind her, feel the sheer weight of his intent. The wolf thought he had her. But she wasn’t a leopard for nothing.

Not slowing down, she jumped onto a tree trunk, hooking herself with her claws. Climbing up with the feline grace built into her genes, she pulled herself up onto a branch, and quickly made her way to the end . . . to jump onto the next tree. And the next. There would be no trail below, nothing to tell him where she’d gone.

Well, except for her scent.

But he’d have to be fast to catch it . . . because her cat was cunning. She’d circled back on him, was going toward him as he ran her way. It would confuse the trail, make him head in one direction while she went in the other. And that was exactly what happened a few minutes later as he passed under her.

Disappointment cut through her, a hot, biting wound. She hadn’t actually wanted him to fail. If she made it to the den before him, then she won, and though she might accept him back into her bed again, it would never be the same. Making a face, telling herself she wasn’t
that
upset—liar, liar—she continued through the trees.

A hundred meters on, she realized she couldn’t make a direct leap from tree to tree. Since Riley was way over in the wrong direction, she jumped off the branch and came to a crouching, catlike landing on the small clearing below.

A familiar hand closed around her throat from behind an instant later and she found herself hauled up against a firm, gorgeously male chest, his free arm clamping across her body to immobilize her own arms. Heat against her ear, the possessive brush of lips that she wanted to feel on every inch of her skin. “Gotcha.”

She reacted on instinct, kicking backward with her legs as she attempted to wrench her body loose. All that got her was a grunt and some rough swearing before she was pressed front-first to a tree trunk, her hands manacled behind her back, her shoulders immobilized by his arm, and her legs held in place by heavy male thighs. He’d left her just enough leeway that she could turn her head.

Both of them were breathing hard, their animals at the forefront, but she was very aware of one thing. Through it all, Riley had taken every care not to hurt her. Even now, he was pressing into her with a fraction less strength than he should’ve done if he really wanted to keep her contained.

Because this was a game. Hurting your partner wasn’t the aim. “Riley?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t break his hold, even as he pressed closer, his erection insistent against her lower back.