Alpha Night

by Nalini Singh

It was easy to find her wolf in the insanity. Easy to anchor himself to that wild, beautiful emotion that stole his breath. Gripping on to her, on to their bond, he began to rebuild his shield, piece by piece by piece. Until his muscles quivered and his head throbbed, and the rogue power shoved furiously against the flexing shields.

  He had it contained, but it had taken almost all he had.

  It was the worst possible time for him to get an urgent telepathic call from Krychek: Major new surge in the Net. High chance of total failure. Fifty thousand affected. Check for a Scarab trail!

  Ethan’s muscles were shaky, and his head ached, but he couldn’t turn away from this, couldn’t abandon all those innocent lives. “PsyNet emergency,” he managed to say before he entered the PsyNet. Not having the energy to maintain his body on the physical plane, he felt it collapse . . . but he knew his mate wouldn’t let him fall.

  Once on the Net, he went to ask Krychek for directions, then realized he could see flickers of lightning in the distance. So many flickers. A cascade. Racing to that area, he discovered the lightning was already fading, the damage done catastrophic. A large section of the PsyNet was badly buckled and cracked, an inch away from critical failure.

  He saw two huge minds working on it, knew both Kaleb and Aden had been pulled into this repair. Other strong minds joined them one after the other, all the high Gradients who could pouring their power into the repair.

  Bypassing them, Ethan continued to follow the trail. It split without warning. He went for the strongest of the three, and had just barely pinpointed the source mind before the trail blinked out.

  Conscious Aden was busy, he reached telepathically for another senior Arrow mind. Vasic wasn’t within reach. Neither was Axl. But he found Nerida. I have the location of one of the Scarabs. He sent through the PsyNet coordinates. I’m unable to maintain a watch. There were three, and—

  His mind went blank, his consciousness blinking out.

  * * *

  —

  SELENKA caught Ethan as he slumped, and though she was strong, he was a man made up mostly of muscle and bone. It took serious effort on her part not to let him fall—but she growled when Alexei made a move to enter the room. “I have him.” She would not allow anyone else near her mate when he was so helpless.

  Lucas Hunter’s voice was quiet, and obviously directed at Sascha Duncan, but Selenka heard it. “You do not get between an alpha and their mate, kitten. You know that better than anyone.”

  “We’ll wait outside,” Alexei said to Selenka at almost the same instant, so she missed Sascha’s reply. “Aden was teleported out by Vasic ten seconds ago.”

  A beam entering the room, a flashlight being placed on the floor so she and Ethan wouldn’t be in darkness.

  She heard a protest, was about to snarl again, when she realized it was Memory. Of course it’d be an empath who wouldn’t want to leave when someone was down. Healers were like that. The only reason Sascha had probably listened to Lucas was because she was more experienced and able to control her instincts.

  “He’s fine,” she said, trying not to growl too much—not that Memory struck her as particularly fragile. “On the PsyNet assisting with an emergency. We’ll be out when he’s up.”

  She heard Alexei grumble, “You want Selenka to claw your face off, lioness? Time to move.”

  Memory’s responding growl as she finally left almost made Selenka grin.

  Using every muscle she had, she held her mate against her as she lowered them both to the floor. He ended up seated in a leaning position against her shoulder, his head tilted slightly to the side. Pressing a kiss to his throat, she made sure he was comfortable, then just held him, stroking his hair in that way that always made him lean into her, and drinking in his scent.

  He might not be conscious, but affection carried through the mating bond, and she hoped it’d carry through to whatever battle Ethan was currently fighting. At least she knew he was alive and well—not only could she see the rise and fall of his chest, hear the beat of his heart; she could feel him along the mating bond.

  Dark as night and cold as frost, but with a new depth that fascinated . . . and less bloody sharpness to the jagged edges. The static that had disappeared during the experiment was back, but it was muted, less in the way of their bond.

  None of it surprised her.

  Selenka was no Psy, but she was dead certain she’d ID’d what lived inside Ethan. The impact had reverberated loud and clear through their bond the instant he lowered his shields, but her mind struggled against the impossibility of it. Bozhe, that he was sane was a miracle—and a testament to his incredible mental strength.

  “I’m here, zaichik.” She kissed his jaw. “I really will claw off the face of anyone who tries to get to you. You’re mine, and I’m a possessive wolf.”

  She didn’t know how long the two of them sat there, but the dust disturbed by their earlier movements had long since settled when he stirred at last. His lashes fluttered . . . and he froze.

  “It’s me.” Wolf puppyishly happy he was awake, she kissed his jaw, nipped excitedly at his throat. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  “You’re here.” Dazed words.

  Nipping at his shoulder, she said, “Don’t sound so surprised or I’ll really bite you.”

  “I felt you in the darkness, a wild golden glow that lit up the dark. But I thought it was an illusion.”

  “I’m no illusion, Ethan, and never will be.” She pressed her lips to his nape, her own heart starting to beat in a proper rhythm at last. “Tough one?”

  Sitting up to face her, all pale eyes and devotion. “Tracking those with Scarab Syndrome—they appear to be attacking the Net.” He pushed sweat-damp hair from his forehead, looked around. “The others?”

  “I kicked them out—they might still be outside.” Rising to her feet, she held out a hand.

  It did something to her when her deadly Arrow took her hand without hesitation and allowed her to pull him up to his feet. No smile, because Ethan never smiled, but she felt a whisper of warmth against her wolf’s fur, a caress that came through loud and clear.

  Smiling, she leaned into him. “You’ll have to pet my wolf in reality soon. She’s getting impatient.” The wolf lived in her every second of every day even when she wore her human skin, but it needed direct physical contact with its mate.

  “I’d be honored to pet your wolf, zolotse moyo.” Ethan nuzzled at her throat as he called her his “gold,” and she knew he wasn’t talking about the precious metal but the light she was to him.

  Selenka melted. Her wolf wanted to grip at his throat with its teeth and tumble him playfully to the ground.

  But play would have to wait.

  For now . . . Reaching into a side pocket of her pants, she pulled out a nutrient bar.

  Food was a thing with meaning among wolves, and Selenka watched in satisfied pleasure as Ethan all but inhaled the bar . . . though with a distinctly dubious look on his face. “Not to your taste?”

  “It isn’t what I’m used to.” Smoothing out the wrapper, he read the label aloud. “Strawberry yogurt.” A squaring of his shoulders. “Sometimes, the old ways are the best.”

  Chuckling, Selenka patted his cheek, his bristly jaw beloved and familiar. “You never know, you might decide you like hazelnut crunch, or mint cream.” The look he gave her had her wolf throwing back its head in a howl of laughter.

  Chapter 43

  Every frog praises his own pond, Selenushka.

  But, Deda, isn’t it sandpipers and their swamp?

  Would you rather jump into a pond or a swamp?

  Um, a pond?

  So why would you send the poor frog to the swamp?

  —Conversation between Yevgeni Durev and Selenka Durev (8)

  ETHAN AND SELENKA emerged into the crisp air and the smudged charcoal of very early d
awn. Sascha and Memory stood together, speaking, while Lucas Hunter had a watchful—and slightly amused—air about him.

  Kostya, meanwhile, was scowling at Alexei. “I am not cousin to a pretty California boy with yellow hair.”

  “Check your family tree.” Alexei’s scowl was as dark. “It’s unfortunate but true. And at least this California wolf tans. What do you call that color? Curdled milk?”

  Growls were exchanged, and it was odd, but Ethan was near certain the two were enjoying the exchange. “Are they playing?” he muttered to Selenka.

  “Wolves have strange senses of humor,” she said, her lips twitching.

  Memory and Sascha were the ones to approach them, the other three keeping their distance, no doubt sensing Ethan’s mate’s bristling protectiveness. Selenka, Ethan knew, wasn’t in the right frame of mind to allow anyone but submissives and healers near him. Him. Ethan. An Arrow perfectly able to defend himself.

  Ethan felt that warmth inside that he thought might be a happy smile.

  “You’re okay.” Memory’s smile was wide, her hug unexpected but not unwelcome. Despite how she aggravated the rogue power with her mere presence, she continued to feel familiar on the deepest level.

  He hugged her back, feeling protective of her in a way he couldn’t explain.

  After they drew apart, he said, “Did you sense the chaos I hear when I drop my shields? It is anarchy in its purest form.”

  Memory exchanged a glance with Sascha, seemed to silently pass the baton to the more experienced E. Eyes pure black, Sascha said, “It would be a howl of chaos for you. When you drop your shields, you have no secondary shields to help filter and moderate the input.”

  Ethan looked from one to the other, then to Selenka, who stood beside him, her arms folded and her body close enough that she was a line of heat along one side of him. But before he could voice his questions, Sascha said, “Where was the first place you dropped your shields? The first place you felt the howls?”

  “While I was in Moscow for an early security meeting. I had a couple of hours open and decided to see what would happen if I permitted the power free.” Looking back, it had been a distinctly stupid thing to do while alone in a Moscow park, but to the man he’d been at the time, his mind distant from the world, it had made perfect sense. “I didn’t realize how clouded my thinking had become.”

  “You did that in central Moscow?” Memory’s mouth fell open. “Ethan, it’s a wonder the influx didn’t blow your circuits.”

  “I wasn’t that careless,” he clarified. “I only lowered my shields a fraction and slammed them back up the instant I realized what was happening.” Even then, his head had rung, screaming agony inside his skull.

  “Was it less intense today?” Sascha’s tone gave nothing away, her eyes filled with stars once more. “Even though you totally lowered your shields?”

  “Yes. By a significant margin.” His mate’s primal heat wrapped around him, a wolf’s comfort. “Is it because of the mating bond? Is it leaching off a percentage of the pressure?”

  “It’s possible, but the main factor is the number of unshielded, untrained minds in your vicinity.” Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her light coat, Sascha took a moment before she began to speak. “All humans and changelings leak a low level of emotion. Psy are beginning to be the same now that those of our race no longer face punishment for feeling.”

  “Why are you speaking to me about emotions?” Ethan could see no correlation between his situation and the fall of Silence.

  Memory stepped forward, her face luminous. “Because you’re one of us, Ethan. That power inside you? It’s empathic.”

  “Very close to cardinal level.” Sascha’s words were a blur in the buzz of his mind. “If I had to guess I’d say 9.5 or higher on the Gradient.”

  Unable to process what they were saying, Ethan looked at his mate. Her eyes were wolf, her gaze holding a scalding anger. Cupping his face in her hands, his mate kissed him with a raw emotion that was an anchor in the chaos. “You’re an empath, Ethan,” she said in the aftermath. “A fucking powerful empath.”

  He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. This—it was too huge a thing to digest. “I can’t be an empath.” The words fell out of his mouth. “I’m a killer.”

  Selenka would’ve eviscerated Ming LeBon with her claws, then spit in his dying face had the former Councilor been anywhere near her vicinity. He’d taken a traumatized young boy and instead of helping him, had used that trauma to his own ends, reinforcing all of Ethan’s terrible views about himself.

  But Selenka didn’t give voice to her fury; her mate needed something else from her at this instant. “So am I,” she said, extending her claws so they touched the sides of his face, pricking in just a little.

  “I’ve executed threats to my pack without a second thought,” she said, “and I have no guilt at all over Blaise’s death.” She’d heard the faint howls of triumph not long ago, knew the cult leader was dead. “If a telepath came at me and tried to break open my mind, you’d better fucking believe that I’d rip out their throat.”

  Ethan’s hands were clamped over her wrists and he was listening. Actively listening. So she kept talking, trying to smash through this seemingly immovable barrier in his mind. Maybe one day, he’d be ready to talk to someone else about this, but right now, she had the best chance of ending his belief that he was a killer and only a killer.

  “The first time you killed,” she said, conscious everyone else had shifted out of earshot, “you did so in self-defense. We train our pups not to use their claws or teeth—unless someone is hurting them and they need to get away. Then they’re taught to fight. You fought, Ethan, and you had a right to fight.”

  He parted his lips, but she spoke before he could. “Your adult kills? How many did you do voluntarily? Without Ming’s mind controlling yours?”

  Silence was her answer.

  Hands still clawed, she brushed her lips gently against his. “If someone chained up a changeling as a child and beat and abused them until the changeling had no choice but to kill on command, it’s not the changeling who would be the monster.”

  Those clear eyes darkened on a sweep of black. “I wanted to kill the intruders and Blaise. I still do.”

  “You have a violent protective drive—they came to hurt people under your care.”

  “It’s not a very empathic way to act.”

  “You’re an empath—your reality is an empathic reality.”

  Emotions swelled the mating bond: torment, pain, guilt, a fierce devotion . . . and hope.

  Selenka kissed him again. “You are not the monster.”

  Her words were still reverberating in Ethan’s mind when he heard her say, “I thank you for your assistance, but I need you to leave now. Kostya will show you to the entrance and we’ll provide hotel rooms in the city if you have to wait for a teleport pickup.”

  This time, Memory didn’t argue, but Sascha said, “Until Ethan has a chance to build the appropriate filters, he needs to create a pressure release valve in his shields.” Her voice was unbending. “I can give him the instructions now if he allows a telepathic send, but he has to follow those instructions within the hour if he isn’t going to risk further bruising to his brain.”

  Ethan found the mental space to say, “Send. I’ll do it.” No fucking way was he not doing anything that would give him a lifetime with Selenka.

  Sascha was as good as her word, transmitting the instructions at once. Then she and the others all left. Ethan shuddered, his forehead pressed to Selenka’s. He knew he would have questions, so many of them, in the days to come, but right now, he just needed to be with his mate.

  Once alone, he went to kiss her in an effort to find his feet again . . . and inside him stirred a sensation akin to a wolf’s fur. He halted, another hunger overwhelming the first. “Can I see your wolf?”
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  Her eyes shifted from human to wolf before she stepped back and began to strip. She did so with changeling practicality and still he watched her like a slave. She was sleek and strong and beautiful. And his.

  “Am I too possessive?” he asked, the vague thought dawning in the part of his brain that wasn’t awash in emotion.

  She padded to him naked and proud. “We are as possessive as each other, zaichik.”

  Ethan could feel her teeth at his throat, was more than happy with that. Hand at her waist, he looked into her eyes and saw the wolf take control a heartbeat before she broke into shatters of light, and where had stood a woman powerful and dangerous now stood a sleek wolf with dark gray fur at the back that faded gradually into pale dawn gray by the time it reached her stomach.

  Her pricked ears were dark at the base, pale at the tips, as was her tail.

  Everything about her was beautiful.

  Crouching down on a wave of wonder as she shook herself to settle her fur, he ran his hand reverently over her back. She nuzzled at his throat, bit playfully. He felt no fear. This was his mate. “Lovely and deadly,” he murmured. “And mine.”

  His alpha mate didn’t argue with his claim, but it wasn’t enough for Ethan. What they had wasn’t enough. “There’s something wrong with our bond, isn’t there?” Static continued to crackle between them. “It’s me. It’s because of my damage.”

  He felt the wolf’s primal answer deep inside him: a clawing possessiveness that said it didn’t matter, that he was perfect to her. It was echoed by a rumbling growl and the closing of powerful jaws over his shoulder.

  But Ethan shook his head. “I want it all. I won’t let Ming steal this from us.” A dark heat rose in him, a thing with claws that didn’t feel wolf. “Will you have me?”

  The look the wolf gave him was very Selenka.

  He found the dark embers morphing into a softer, warmer sensation. Rubbing his face against the side of the wolf’s, he said, “I know how to fix it. I know what to do.” It was a crystalline realization inside his mind, born in the wildness of emotion soaking into his senses.