Alpha Night

by Nalini Singh

  Permission to enter BlackEdge wolf territory granted because of his association with Memory.

  “Does he have visiting privileges in your private pack lands?” he’d asked Selenka on the drive here, after she gave him that information.

  “Most outside wolves wouldn’t,” she’d said, “but Lexie’s a special case. His father came from a small Russian pack that BlackEdge absorbed twenty years ago when their alpha passed and they had no new alpha. Packs without an alpha inevitably crumble and they wanted to stay together, so they asked to join us.”

  “Then Alexei Harte has family in BlackEdge?”

  “Some. Though he hasn’t visited in a long time.” A stillness to her. “This isn’t a secret but it’s private, you understand?” At his nod, she’d said, “His paternal line has spawned three rogues. He also lost his parents in childhood. It’s all served to distance him from Russia.”

  A shadowed past, but the man who exited the four-wheel-drive vehicle had no sense of darkness to him. He went around to open his mate’s door, then said something to her that made her scowl and push at his chest even as she pressed her lips together in a vain effort to fight a smile.

  Ethan had seen Memory Aven-Rose from a distance in the symposium hall, but he was still struck by the sense of energy that clung to her. It was probably the wild curls of her hair, glossy and separated but in no type of order beyond that. The coils bounced against the warm brown of her face as the diminutive empath came to face him, her gaze wary.

  She didn’t make physical contact.

  Her mate, in contrast, held out a hand toward Selenka. “Hawke sends his regards.”

  “I’m pretty sure that wolf didn’t say anything so polite.” Despite her suspicious words, Selenka shook Alexei’s hand. “Tell him zdravstvuyte from me, too.”

  Alexei’s expression held a primal watchfulness when he turned to Ethan, and Ethan knew the wolf lieutenant would tear out his throat should he do or say anything that made him appear a threat to Memory. He also knew Selenka would tear Alexei to pieces if he dared lay a hand on Ethan.

  The knowledge of his worth to her shook him, would always shake him.

  Ignoring the wolf’s intense regard, Ethan directed his words to Memory Aven-Rose. “Thank you for agreeing to this.” He couldn’t keep from staring at her—she felt so oddly familiar. “I’m well aware you do critical work in the PsyNet.”

  The empath’s forehead wrinkled, lines flaring out at the corners of her eyes as she stared back at him. Her nod was delayed, the wrinkles in her forehead deeper. “Do I know you? Have we met?”

  “No,” Ethan said. “Though I did glimpse you at the symposium from a long distance.”

  “Maybe that’s it.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “I thought we’d do this in the back courtyard,” Selenka said to Memory. “Unless you’d be more comfortable inside?”

  “No.” The empath broke the strange eye contact. “Outside is better.”

  None of them spoke as they walked to the courtyard, a subtle tension in the air.

  He could sense that Memory was concerned about connecting with him on any level, and he didn’t blame her. But he couldn’t tell her it was all right, they didn’t have to try. He needed to try, needed to fight to live so he could court Selenka with paper animals, so he could be the mate she deserved.

  “How does this work?” he asked once they were in the cool light of the courtyard, shrugging aside his inexplicable reaction to the empath to focus on the critical. “Do we make a psychic link?”

  “No. I just need physical contact.” Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and held out her hand.

  He took it . . . and a violent surge of power slammed against his shields, hitting so hard that he had to grit his teeth to contain it, every muscle in his body taut to the breaking point. Memory’s grip tightened, her frown getting deeper and deeper, until she dropped his hand with a shake of her head that sent her curls flying. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “You have to try.” Selenka’s voice hummed with tension—but she kept her distance from Memory. “He’s dying trying to keep this contained.”

  Ethan shook his head. “The surges are intensifying.” That much violent energy might crush an empath. “If it’s unsafe for Memory—”

  “No,” the empath interrupted, her features screwed into a look of utter frustration. Then, to his surprise, she gripped his hand once more, the polished ovals of her nails a vibrant magenta.

  His power crashed against his shields, metal shavings drawn to a powerful magnet.

  Memory’s pupils expanded to nearly eclipse her irises. “There it is again,” she whispered.

  Ethan could feel energy pushing against him, a soft kind of power that didn’t threaten but asked for permission. “Is that you?”

  Memory twisted her mouth to one side. “I was trying to send you an emotion—happiness—to see what would happen, but I can’t get through. Your shields must be phenomenal. Almost nothing blocks empathic power—and even though I’m a weird sort of empath, you should still feel something. Even Alexei senses it when I try to pet him with my empathy.” She released his hand in a scowl. “I don’t understand this.”

  Scanning his fractured internal landscape, Ethan saw no change. “You can’t impact the Syndrome?” It was difficult to get the words out.

  “Ethan, I don’t think you have the Syndrome.” Memory took his hand again, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. “There’s something wrong inside you . . . but you don’t feel anything like the other confirmed cases of the Syndrome.”

  “Is it possible my case is a variation?”

  “No.” Memory’s answer was absolute. “The psychic presence of Syndrome patients is disturbing to me on a fundamental level. As if there are fractures deep within them that I can paper over but can’t fully heal. But with you . . .” Closing her eyes, she squeezed his hands, and once again, he felt that nonthreatening push of power against his senses.

  More than willing to cooperate with this empath who worked with the broken, and who felt like a person he should know, he lowered his external shield just enough that she could get through. A wave of warmth whispering through him, a sensation he recognized as happiness because he’d felt it so often since being with Selenka.

  “I feel it.” He slammed up his shields an instant later, as the rogue power in him launched a sudden violent assault. His mind vibrated at the impact, the shock so powerful that it traveled through the mating bond and had Selenka growling.

  Dropping Memory’s hand as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, he took a step back from her. “Something about you is exacerbating the Syndrome.”

  “No, Ethan. You don’t have the Syndrome,” Memory insisted, thrusting both hands through the electric curls of her hair. “I don’t know what’s happening with you, but you do not have that kind of fracture inside you.”

  Ethan shook his head. “I’m damaged.”

  Memory just stared at him before throwing back her head and laughing until tears ran down her face. “Ethan, honey,” she said after sucking in a breath, “if you’re damaged, I don’t know what you’d call me. I was kept captive by a psychopath in an underground cell, my mind caged, for fifteen years.”

  Ethan’s head rang, the words making no sense. “That’s not in your squad file.”

  “That’s because it’s none of anyone’s business,” growled Alexei Harte. “Aden knows that. Who Memory chooses to tell is up to her.” Eyes gone pale amber shot with gold locked on Ethan in open suspicion, the wolf clearly evaluating why its mate had judged Ethan worthy of the disclosure.

  “Careful, Alexei.” Selenka’s husky voice. “You’re a guest on my land and Ethan is my mate.”

  Even as Ethan struggled under a fury of pleasure at her open possessiveness, Memory waved a hand. “Shh,” she said, clearly speaking to b
oth wolves. “We’re having a conversation here.”

  Scowling, Selenka folded her arms and glared at Alexei. “Great. You had to mate an empath. I can’t even snarl at her without feeling guilty.”

  Alexei grinned without warning. “Shh. They’re having a conversation.”

  Ethan barely heard the exchange, his attention locked on Memory. “How are you so sane?”

  “Partially out of pure spite,” she said cheerfully. “I wasn’t about to let that bastard win by breaking me.”

  Ethan had never once considered spite a weapon. “I agree with your logic,” he said slowly.

  Memory pointed a finger at him. “Nurse that spite against those who harmed you, but instead of letting it poison you, use it to live your best life.” She put her hands on her hips. “It also helped that I’m an empath. Theory is I was getting emotional feedback from the PsyNet even when I was blocked off from accessing it. The PsyNet likes Es. It protects us.”

  “Because you’re critical to its survival.” Ethan’s head was pounding from the constant power surges. “I’m not like you. I don’t have a power that helps the Net. I kill.”

  Memory raised a hand as if to touch him, froze when he took a step back. “I thought I was a monster, too, but turns out we’re all far more than one thing.” Her dark eyes held haunting flickers of color, her voice drenched in passionate emotion. “Don’t just accept the worst-case scenario, Ethan. What if you’re wrong and I’m right? What if this isn’t the Syndrome? What if you could have a life free of the specter of madness?”

  Ethan felt Selenka’s wolf rise to the surface of his own skin, its fur sliding against his insides. It should’ve been impossible, but the sensation—visceral and intense—couldn’t be denied. The wolf was firmly on Memory’s side. “The last time I lowered my shields, the howls and screams nearly caused my telekinetic energy to slip the leash and cut people in half.”

  At her confused look, he glanced at Selenka. Strained with holding back the surges, he didn’t have the words to explain the darkness that lived in him. He needed his mate. She responded without hesitation, this alpha wolf for whom he was now a priority. Their mating might’ve been out of her control, but she chose to stay with him, be with him. With Ethan.

  Interlocking her fingers with his, she laid out what he could do, then said, “Ethan’s afraid he’ll inadvertently kill under the pressure caused by the rogue power he’s trying to hold back.”

  Memory frowned. “It can’t be the same shield holding back both or you wouldn’t be able to access your telekinetic abilities.”

  “No. But they’re constructed on the same foundation. I had to build on what I had when the Scarab power woke.”

  Making a frustrated semigrowl sound that had Selenka giving the empath a second look, Memory didn’t tell him again that he didn’t have Scarab Syndrome. “There’s one way to test this,” she said instead. “You build two totally separate shields, with the one to contain your telekinetic power on an isolated base unconnected to the rogue power.”

  Ethan understood her logic, but—“I don’t have the time.” That kind of highly individualized shield building took intense amounts of time to design and create.

  As if to hammer home the point, the scent of iron filled his nose. He pulled a tissue from his pocket to stop the bleed, but both wolves in the courtyard were already growling. Gripping his jaw in one hand, Selenka turned his face to hers.

  “Your eyes,” she bit out. “You have multiple hemorrhages in the whites.”

  “It’s from the pressure building in his brain.” Memory’s voice was taut, her hands fisted. “It goes on much longer, his brain will literally crush itself against his skull.”

  Chapter 30

  I will pass on any and all information as retrieved or discovered. Please do the same. One of ours is now also yours. The squad wishes to assist you to eliminate this threat.

  —Senior Arrow Cristabel Rodriguez in response to Alpha Selenka Durev

  “ETHAN,” MEMORY CONTINUED, “if you’re willing to try, I know someone who can design those shields for you at speed. After it’s done, you release the rogue power—and we see what comes out.”

  “I can’t be a murderer again,” Ethan whispered, speaking to his mate, her eyes the pure gold of her wolf. “I won’t be a murderer again.” He would not go to his grave with fresh blood on his hands.

  Shifting her grip to his nape, Selenka dug her nails in. “We’ll control the test,” she said on a growl. “The den has plenty of rooms that can be made dark, without light. We can shut you inside one for the test.”

  Ethan knew without asking that it infuriated her to think of locking him in a room without light, but if that was what it would take for him to agree to Memory’s test, she’d find a way to deal with it.

  Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “All right,” to Memory. “But the shield builder will have to be very fast.” Contact with Memory had supercharged the rogue power; the surges were coming once a minute now, each new surge causing another crack in his shields.

  He was maintaining, but just.

  Memory moved to speak to her mate, their heads nearly touching. After a short conversation, Alexei Harte brushed his hand over her curls before turning to Selenka. “I need to make a call. If I get agreement, you’ll have to permit one or two other predatory changelings into your territory.”

  “Do it.”

  Alone with Selenka when the other couple moved to the far end of the courtyard to make the call, Ethan slid his hand to her nape, under her hair. She tilted back her head to hold his gaze with her furious one, her hair catching the smudged sunlight. Pink and purple fire and obsidian silk, it slid over his hand.

  “What if Memory is wrong and I lose myself when I allow the rogue power free?” It was the nightmare that haunted him. “What if I forget who I am and turn into the pitiless killer Ming trained me to be?”

  “Then I’ll execute you.” His mate’s hand went clawed against his chest, her words harsh, rough. “I will not allow you to become a murderer. It’s a promise from your mate.”

  Ethan knew deep within that keeping the promise would break her in ways that would never heal. “No.” He tightened his grip. “Not you. It can’t be you.”

  When she stared at him without the least indication of changing her mind, he played dirty. “I won’t allow the test unless you agree to delegate the task to the squad.”

  A hiss of air from between her teeth, her claws pressing in deeper. “This is not a negotiation.” It was a growl.

  “And you’re not my alpha.” He held those wolf eyes. “Agree or I call this off right now.”

  Cheekbones cutting against her skin, she said, “I won’t forget this.”

  He waited.

  “Fine.” A word ground out between her teeth. “Stubborn zaichik.”

  Shuddering, he pressed his forehead to hers again. “Your zaichik.”

  That clawed hand fisted in his hair. “Yes. Don’t you forget it.” A sharp nip of his lower lip before she turned toward Alexei and Memory, who were walking back.

  “Sascha’s agreed to do it.” Alexei slid away his phone, his next words directed at Ethan. “She needs a teleport to this location, since she isn’t in the PsyNet and can’t access your mind that way.”

  He could only be speaking about one Sascha. Sascha Duncan, cardinal empath, daughter of Councilor Nikita Duncan and defector into the DarkRiver leopard pack. And, apparently, a shield builder. “I’ll ask if a teleporter is free.”

  Aden’s voice entered his mind at the same instant: We need you. Kaleb can lock onto your face if you’re willing.

  Ethan’s head throbbed with another surge, but he’d only ever heard that kind of urgency in Aden’s voice in severe emergencies . . . though it had never before truly registered. In the gray numbness in which he had lived, he’d cared about nothing.
>
  At times, he’d believed he was a stone-cold psychopath.

  Today, he heard both the urgency and the exhaustion, wanted only to help this man who’d fought for him when Ethan couldn’t fight for himself.

  Five seconds. Grabbing Selenka’s hand, he ran out of the courtyard and through the HQ to arrive at the public front entrance.

  He had just enough time to say, “Critical emergency. Teleport pickup,” before Kaleb Krychek appeared in front of him. The cardinal telekinetic’s eyes were pure black, as if to match his black-on-black suit. His hair was unusually windblown, his suit jacket unbuttoned.

  When Ethan looked at Selenka, he saw the face of an alpha who understood hard choices. “Go,” she said and released his hand. “I’ll organize the rest.”

  Krychek teleported them.

  And Ethan landed in a zone of madness. Screams rent the air, people walking around in circles with their hands at their temples as they keened. He had no idea of their number, but it was large enough that the available assistance wasn’t enough. The keening walkers, however, were the calm ones. Others rolled on the ground trying to gouge out their eyes, or beat their foreheads bloody on the asphalt.

  “I thought we had a solution to this,” he said, having seen images of such nightmarish scenes before the advent of the empathic Honeycomb.

  He didn’t wait for Krychek to respond, just telepathed: Close your eyes! on a wide band.

  The Arrows obeyed at once, as did Krychek, and Ethan released his light. He had to do it three more times, in quick succession, Krychek ’porting him to different areas of the street before he got all the affected—but it still only took seconds.

  “Useful,” Krychek murmured, staring at the bodies crumpled on the street. “We could’ve used you during the earlier incidents.”

  “I wasn’t functional during those incidents.” He’d been all but catatonic at the time, seeing the world through such a heavy gray veil that it had been a distant murmur. “Where is your empathic assistance?”