The Psy-Changeling Series, Books 6-10 (190 page)

Sienna’s gut went cold with the slowly dawning realization that the attempted murder of five people was only the tip of the iceberg. “If you start to feel worse,” she said to Barker as she finished up, “I want to know right away.”

“I’m fine.” White grooves bracketed his mouth.

“How bad,” she said, “would it suck to have ‘stupid moron died of shock’ on your gravestone?”

A roll of bright hazel eyes. “Definitely trained by Indigo,” he muttered, skin sheened by cold sweat. “If I don’t tell, Rina’ll tattle.”

“That’s my job, doofus.” Rina pretend thumped him on the forehead. Satisfied, Sienna got up and walked to where Lucy sat beside Eli, doing what she could for the now-unconscious soldier. Burns charred the entire left-hand side of his body, glimpses of raw pink flesh beneath. “You sedated him?” Sienna thought of little Sakura, what it would do to her to see her father so hurt. And Eli’s mate, Yuki . . .

“He was in a lot of pain.” Tight words, anger contained. “He needs Lara, but Simran and Riordan were more critical.”

“Will Lara be able to heal him?” Nausea churned within her as she knelt, helpless, beside the soldier . . . because she could burn a living being, too. Worse than any laser.

“Yes, but it’ll take her some time.”

Thank God.
“Anything I can do?”

“Help me shove these sticks into the ground so the thermal blanket doesn’t touch his skin when I unfold it over him.”

That task done, Sienna rose to see that Lara had moved from Simran to join Judd at Riordan’s side—the young male had also lost consciousness, his face leached of color. Not far away, Hawke had Simran curled up in his lap, her head tucked under his chin, her sleek black hair cascading over his arm. Noticing the woman was shivering, Sienna ran back to the truck and pulled out two more of the silvery thermal blankets. “Here,” she said, giving one to Rina for Barker, before heading over to cover Simran.

Hawke tugged it around the fallen sentry, careful not to jostle her. “They’re all okay.” The wolf in his eyes, in his voice.

Never had she been more aware of the fierce strength of his love for his pack. “Yes,” she answered, though it hadn’t been a question. “I think Elias is going to end up the worst off—at least, until Lara can get to him.” Sienna wasn’t sure if Judd could heal burns using his Tk-Cell abilities, even if he had the strength after helping Riordan. “We can keep him sedated till then.”

Tucking in the edge of the blanket under Simran’s feet, she looked around, thought back to the supplies she’d hauled for Lara. “I think there are energy drinks in one of the boxes. I’ll get some into everyone who’s conscious.” Healers and injured both needed to keep up their strength, especially given the chill night air.

 

 

SO calm, so efficient,
Hawke thought, watching Sienna move with grace and speed across the clearing as she bullied and cajoled the drinks into the others. His wolf felt more than a lick of pride, but it was focused on far more painful matters. “Lara?” he asked when the healer drew back from Riordan.

The answer was instant. “Yes, more.”

A single instinctive thought and the strength of his men and women flowed into him through the alpha-lieutenant blood bonds. Indigo’s incredible heart, Riley’s solid loyalty, Matthias’s quiet determination, Riaz’s intensity, Alexei’s barely tempered power, Cooper’s stubborn tenacity, Jem’s wildfire, Kenji’s calm will, Tomás’s energetic wildness. The only thing missing tonight was Judd’s cool touch—the Psy male was focused on healing the last of Riordan’s injury as Lara staggered over to Elias.

Funneling that power to Lara’s form through the bond that every alpha had with his healer, he watched color spill into her cheeks . . . then drain away as she ran her hands over Eli’s ravaged flesh. She cried no tears. Never did Lara cry—not until her people were safe. Only then would she collapse.

Dark rubies glimmered in the light of the field lamps as Sienna ran to meet the truck that had just arrived, helping to snap out the field stretchers. She, too, he thought, wouldn’t break down here, on this bloody spread of ground. Not Sienna. Not the woman who’d survived a Councilor, survived the brutal demands of her own savage gift . . . and almost won a game played against an alpha wolf.

 

 

HAVING
taken a bare few minutes to shower to wash off Simran’s blood after Lara pronounced that there was no more healing to be done, Hawke returned to the infirmary. “Tell me,” he said to Lara, aware of Sienna moving between patient rooms, keeping an eye on things—the healer had ordered both Lucy and Judd to bed as soon as everyone was stable.

“Riordan and Simran should pull through okay,” Lara said, raising a hand to the wild energy of her curls. Her fingers trembled for a second before she fisted her hand, dropped it to her side. “I heard from Tammy—Barker will be fine, too.”

“Eli,” he asked, conscious she hadn’t mentioned the senior soldier. “I know you have to heal burns in small steps. How bad is it?”

Lara’s eyes drifted to the room where Elias lay under a curved panel that covered his body from neck to toe. “I’ve taken care of the life-threatening damage, but he had to wait so long his body went into shock. I won’t be sure of anything until he wakes.”

“You did everything you could,” Hawke said, knowing the words wouldn’t be enough, not for a healer. About to ask her to go into the office so they could talk privately—so she could drop her stoic front for a therapeutic minute—he saw someone unexpected walk out of Elias’s room.

Yuki flew into the infirmary at the same instant, stopping only long enough to whisper, “Thank you, Walker,” and brush her hand over the Psy male’s, before she entered the room where Elias lay unconscious.

Hawke knew Yuki had left to check that Sakura was fine with her grandparents, hadn’t realized Walker had stepped in to sit with the fallen soldier, though now that he thought about it, it wasn’t a surprise. He’d seen Elias and Walker talking more than once, noticed their girls playing together, realized that the two must have formed a friendship.

“Eli’s got Yuki watching over him,” Walker said to Lara, his intent gaze taking in the shadows under her eyes, the lines around her mouth. “The other injured are in a medicated sleep. You can’t do anything until they wake. Rest.”

Lara’s lips thinned. “I’m fine.” Folding her arms, she turned back to Hawke. “I’ll monitor them through the rest of the night—I need to make sure we didn’t miss any hidden damage.”

Hawke waited to see what Walker would do.

The other man folded his own arms and said, “Hawke, notice how she’s wavering on her feet?” in the most reasonable of tones.

Lara’s eyes flashed fire, but Hawke had to agree. “Take an hour—I’ll keep an eye on everyone,” he ordered, tugging her into an embrace and nuzzling a kiss into her hair. “Don’t be ornery just to piss Walker off.” His wolf didn’t know what was going on between the two, but there was no mistaking the tension.

A scowl marred those fine features. “Ornery?” But she softened in his embrace. “A rest does sound good. Wake me the instant anything changes.”

Hawke didn’t miss the way Walker watched them. Neither did he miss the fact that the tall Psy male followed Lara to her office, where she kept a sofa. Moving out of hearing range, he checked in on the injured, found Sienna sitting at Riordan’s bedside, her hand on his. “His mom started to cry so his dad took her out for a few minutes,” she said in a subvocal murmur, her eyes devoid of stars. “They didn’t want him to hear it in his sleep.”

He waited with her until Riordan’s parents returned. The couple allowed his wolf to give comfort to theirs, but he knew nothing would truly soothe them until their child woke. Leaving them with their hands touching Riordan’s skin in silent support, he intertwined his own fingers with Sienna’s.

LARA FELT THE
back of her neck prickle with awareness as the door shut with a quiet
snick
. Conscious her tiredness could undermine her resolve where Walker was concerned, she bought time by shrugging off the sweatshirt she’d pulled on over a faded pair of jeans after a two-minute shower to wash off the blood. Her wolf had been unhappy to leave the injured for even that long, but the doctor in her knew the value of cleanliness in a medical surrounding.

“Look,” she said at last. “I know we’re friends”—it physically hurt to say that in spite of the fact that she’d made the decision to accept the friendship, continue on with her life in every other way—“but I really would prefer to be alone.” A painful lie. She was a healer, a wolf. She loved being around her pack. But more, she needed to be around
her
man. Unfortunately, the man both woman and wolf had chosen was unable to give her what she needed—Silence and a stranger named Yelene had ruined the finest man Lara had ever known . . . and it appeared the damage was irreversible.

Sinking down on the sofa with that truth weighing down her already heavy heart, she bent to unlace her boots.

Dark blond hair threaded with the barest glimmer of silver filled her vision as Walker knelt to do the task. “Don’t,” she whispered, her defenses shattered by the events of the night, until she could no longer hide the ache in her soul, the empty space where he should’ve been.

He ignored her to undo the laces and remove her boots with quick, steady hands before tugging off her socks. She gave up trying to stop him, gave up trying to fight the need tearing her apart, and simply indulged in the sight of those strong shoulders below her, the fabric stretched taut over solid muscle.

A teacher, that’s what everyone said he’d been in the PsyNet. But Lara had always wondered if there was more to it—there was something about Walker that spoke of shadows, of hidden truths. Things she knew he’d never share. Not Walker.

“Sleep.” A single deep word as he rose and picked up the blanket from where it had fallen off the couch.

Surrendering both to exhaustion and to his indomitable will, she laid down her head and closed her eyes. She felt the blanket being unfurled over her, felt his fingers push rebellious curls off her face with a tenderness that made her throat lock, but she didn’t open her eyes. For this single, shimmering moment, she’d indulge in a fantasy in which Walker wasn’t broken. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

 

 

ONCE
in the break room, Hawke grabbed a seat at the small table and pulled Sienna into his lap. She turned stiff. “What are you doing? Anyone could walk in.”

His wolf peeled back its lips, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Do you think I’m planning to hide this, hide us?”

“No.” Yet the edgy distance remained.

Neither part of him liked it. “You’ve seen me holding packmates.”

“Never me.” The absolute lack of emotion in that simple statement killed him.

“No,” he agreed, stroking his hand over the dark beauty of the hair. “Let me hold you tonight.”

It took time for her to soften, to curve her hand over his shoulder, settle her head against him. And he knew—because he
knew
her—that that would be all she’d give him unless he pushed. Sienna was used not only to keeping secrets, but to fighting her battles alone. No more.

One arm around her shoulders, the hand of the other on the sleek muscle of her thigh, he said, “Eli’s injuries got to you.” He’d been focused on Simran, but his wolf had sensed Sienna arrive, had him glancing up to see her eyes turn to midnight when they landed on the injured soldier.

There were no words from her, not for a long time. When they did come, they were brittle shards. “I could do that. I have done that . . . and worse.” Sienna said, not knowing why she was admitting to the true horror of her nature. “No one knows.”

Hawke’s hand stilled on her thigh for a fraction of an instant before he began to pet her again with those small, slow movements. “Talk to me.”

She’d kept the secret for so long, not wanting anyone to see her as a monster, but tonight, she knew that to be a false hope. She
was
a monster. That could not be changed. “When I was five years old,” she said, her mind acrid with memory—the lash of cold fire, the agonizing sound of a high pitched scream, the nauseating scent of burned flesh and melted plas as the datapad fused into the soft flesh of a hand that had only ever touched her in gentleness, “I set my mother on fire.”

“Ah, baby.” The tenderness in his voice almost broke her.

“That’s how it happens with the lucky ones,” she said, the piercing echo of her mother’s screams something she would never forget. “The unlucky ones immolate themselves the first time the X-marker kicks in.” Unlike with the majority of other designations, it was near impossible to identify an X while the ability lay dormant.

“I know your mother survived.”

“Yes, she was a powerful telepath.” Sienna’s shields had been basic at that stage, with her mother providing the necessary psychic protections. As a result, Kristine had had full access to her mind. “After the first shock, she did the only thing she could and knocked me unconscious.” The medics had been able to repair all but the damage done by the datapad. Kristine had carried a fused patch of skin and plas on her palm until the day she died—and never once had she blamed Sienna for it.

Hawke settled her deeper against him, the hand that had been on her thigh moving up to cup her face. The guilt inside of her made her want to avoid his gaze, duck her head, but she’d never before done that with him, recognizing instinctively that to bow down in such a way was to signal something to his wolf that she did not want. “That was when Ming came,” she said, meeting those wolf-blue eyes though shame curdled her stomach. “He wanted to cut me off from my family at once, except that my mother had been unconsciously subduing my urges since birth.”

No judgment on his face, nothing but an intense concentration. “Is that normal?”

“In a way. Psy children often don’t know what they’re doing with their abilities, so most parents keep a psychic eye on them.”