“You could,” he said, his tone hard. “If you can fight the compulsion enough to stab yourself, then you can fight it enough to let me know something’s wrong.” Continuing to keep pressure on her thigh with one hand, he used the other to rip away the hand she’d been using to cover up a nosebleed. “How bad?”
“Not so bad.” She went to turn her head away but he forced her to face him as he used a strip of fabric to wipe away the blood.
Her cheeks pinkened. “I can do that.”
It was the sheer normality of the reaction that convinced him she wasn’t lying about the consequences of fighting what had clearly been an implanted suggestion. “It’s fine.” His voice was still sandpaper raw, and when she flinched, he knew it wasn’t from the pain. Putting down the strip of cloth when it became obvious her nose had stopped bleeding, he dropped his head to press a kiss to the top of her knee.
An indrawn breath ... then gentle feminine fingers in his hair, stroking, calming. He shuddered, felt his hands clench on her thigh, forced himself to loosen his grip. “We need to get you to a medic.”
“You can do it.” Another stroke through his hair.
He lifted his head. “No. The wound’s too deep. I want someone qualified to look at it.”
“I can’t be DNA scanned.” Fear glittered in her eyes.
Leaning forward, he gripped her nape and held her in place for a kiss that had no tenderness in it, he was so fucking scared for her. “I’ll take care of it.” But first he wanted her dressed, warm. “Keep the pressure on.” Slapping her hand onto her thigh, he found his T-shirt, pulled it over her head, then wrapped her in a blanket.
She took a gasping breath and watched as he grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table without getting up. Flipping it open, he coded in a familiar number. “Connor,” he said when the phone was answered on the other end. “Can you make a run to my place?”
“You hurt?” Instant alertness.
He could hear movement, as if Connor was already grabbing his gear. “No. But bring your full kit. Knife wound, deep.”
“Bleeding?”
He glanced down, parting the blanket. The cotton of the shirt wasn’t soaked through. “Contained, but there was some loss of blood before I got it stopped.” Holding the phone between ear and shoulder, he used a couple of strips of fabric to wrap the makeshift pads into place.
“Patient conscious?”
He looked into hazel eyes gone a muddy green with pain. “Yes.”
“Keep him that way. I’ll be at your place in ten.”
Hanging up without correcting Connor’s assumption on the gender of his patient, Dev put the cell phone back on the table and got up. “Connor lives close. He’ll be here soon.” As he bent to pick her up, she protested. He ignored her. “Katya, I’m going to do exactly what I want, and you’re going to let me.”
She held on to his shoulders as he carried her to the bed and sat down with her in his lap. “I am?”
“Yes.” His lips were on hers before he even knew he was going to kiss her, his hand once more at her nape, his knuckles brushed by the soft fall of her hair. He licked his tongue across the seam of her lips, gained entrance, and then he turned the raging animal in him loose. Because, how dare she hurt herself?
Katya just held on as Dev took total possession. Not long before, she’d thought she’d scaled the greatest heights of emotion with this man. She’d been wrong. Never before had she felt so utterly overwhelmed. Dev was no longer holding back even an iota of what made him the powerful man he was.
Trembling from the wild fury of the kiss, she gripped the solid muscles of his shoulders and did precisely what he’d told her she would—she let him do exactly what he wanted. Because this man was as wild as any changeling, as dangerous, and right now, so on edge, she had a feeling any resistance would be read as the wrong kind of challenge.
Not that she wanted to resist. His kiss, it was melting her from the inside out, the ice of the compulsion no kind of a barrier. She shifted even closer, wanting to strip off the T-shirt and press her body to his, to soak in the essence of him. Nothing and no one would stop Dev from taking what he wanted.
And right now, he wanted her.
But he broke the kiss far too soon. “How bad does it hurt?”
It took her a few seconds to realize what he was asking her. “Hardly.”
“Shock.” Lips compressing, he raised one hand to push her hair off her face. “Are you cold?”
“Not when you kiss me.”
His eyes flared with a deeply sexual fire. “Oh, I plan to kiss you. After Connor’s gone.”
Dev watched as Connor cleaned out Katya’s wound. When the man’s long-fingered hands touched her skin, Dev had to grit his teeth to keep himself from ripping Connor’s damn arm out of its socket. The reaction made no rational sense—not only was the quiet male a friend, he was also a highly qualified doctor. Though he chose to live in Vermont, he was a critical part of Shine’s diagnostic team. It was Connor who’d worked out a way to pinpoint those at risk of the Talin Process Degeneration. Taking its name from the first identified case, TPD came about because of a lack of biofeedback—biofeedback the victims weren’t aware they needed, because their need was so very small.
Dev knew all that. He also knew he wasn’t rational. “How bad is it?” he snapped when Connor finished and turned to get something from his kit.
The other man arched an eyebrow at Dev’s tone, but his own response was civil. “Not serious. The sealant will repair most of the damage, but I’m going to have to put in stitches first.” He took out the stitch stapler.
“Those things hurt like a son of a bitch,” Dev said, walking over to place his hand on Katya’s hair. “Put yourself under,” he told her, having already explained her genetic makeup to Connor.
She shook her head, and that stubborn angle to her jaw made it clear she wouldn’t be changing her mind. Instead of forcing the issue, he nodded at Connor. “You got anything that’ll numb the area?”
“Sure,” the other man said, “but full-bloods react badly to anesthetics. Even that much might mess her up.”
“Just do the stitches,” Katya said. “It’ll be a quick, fast pain, and then it’ll be over.”
Connor gave her a long look. “The wound will ache overnight, while the sealant works. After that, it shouldn’t be worse than a deep bruise.”
Katya gave a small nod and reached up. Instead of letting her take his hand, Dev sat down on the bed so he could look into her eyes, and tugged her face to the curve of his shoulder. “Do it,” he ordered Connor.
As the other man went to work, Katya flinched and wrapped her arms around Dev in an iron-tight embrace. But she didn’t make a sound, and a few seconds later, Connor was finished. Dev felt her body go limp as the doctor put a thin-skin bandage around her thigh.
“The staples will dissolve as the skin knits,” Connor told him. “The bandage is waterproof so she can shower with it. No need to change it for three days unless she complains of heat or severe pain in that area—call me if that happens.”
“I’ve got some of those bandages,” Dev said when Connor held up a pack.
Nodding, the other man put them back in his kit. “Good night’s sleep and she’ll be fine.” He got up.
Stroking a hand down the back of Katya’s head, Dev settled her on the pillow and stood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes followed him as he exited the room. It took everything he had to leave her there, but Connor obviously needed to talk to him. The other man didn’t say anything until they reached his car. “You going to tell me what you’re doing with a full-blood?”
“No.” The fewer people who knew the truth, the better. “You didn’t see her.”
“See who?” Throwing his medical kit into the passenger seat, Connor slid his lean form into the vehicle. “Let her rest.”
Dev stopped in the process of turning around. “That’s none of your business.”<
br />
Connor met his eyes, the lines of his face even more austere in the early evening light. “Never thought I’d have to tell you how to take care of your woman.”
Dev felt his fingers curl into a tight fist. “Lot of assumptions in that statement, Connor.”
“Just telling it like I see it.” He pulled the door shut.
Dev was inside the house before the other man finished reversing down the drive. Closing and locking the door, he strode down to the bedroom. Katya wasn’t on the bed.
CHAPTER 47
Dev’s eyes zeroed in on the bar of light showing under the bathroom door. He pushed through without knocking.
“Dev!” She pulled a towel in front of her body.
Lust kicked him hard—as if he hadn’t all but killed himself with her mere hours ago. Every bit of the anger, the rage he’d felt at seeing her hurt seemed to have transmuted into pure need. Ignoring the savage hunger to teach her exactly how badly he took her hurting herself, he walked over and wrapped the towel more firmly around her damp body. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I wanted to wash off the blood that dripped down my leg,” she said. “It only took a minute.”
“Then why are you trembling?” He swung her up in his arms without waiting for an answer. “If you’ve pulled out the stitches, I’m going to redo them, and I’m not as gentle as Connor.”
Instead of snapping back at him, Katya nuzzled her face into his neck and said, “I’m sorry.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the shower. “It wasn’t your fault.” Placing her on the bed with all the tenderness he had in him, he lay down beside her. “They messed with your head.”
Shimmering green-gold eyes met his as she shook her head. “I’m a walking weapon. I knew this was coming and I stayed. I should’ve left yesterday!”
He knew she was right. But he also knew it was far too late. “I told you—you’re mine. I don’t let go of what’s mine.” Pressing a kiss to her temple, he raised himself up on his arms.
She gripped his biceps. “Don’t leave.”
“I need to clean up the floor. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
But the cleanup took a little longer than he’d expected, and she was asleep by the time he returned to the bed, curled up on her uninjured side. Sliding in beside her, he tugged away the towel with careful hands—he needed to wrap his body around her instead, feel her safe and warm, protected in his arms.
Only then did he allow himself to accept the fear that had gripped him when he’d seen her bleeding on the floor. Trembling, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, drawing the clean, warm scent of her into his lungs. For the second time in his life, he was watching a woman who was everything to him slip from his fingers, and he could do nothing to stop it.
The agony of it ripped through him, until he half expected to see his own blood stain the sheets.
“No,” he said, and it was a vow. He’d find a way to get Ming to undo or permanently block the compulsions, because no way was he ever again watching Katya cry because her mind had been violated, her limbs turned into a marionette’s. And if Ming refused to cooperate—“I’ll kill the bastard.” He had to believe that once the Councilor was dead, Katya would be able to live a life free of fear.
She shifted in his arms, and he realized she’d woken. “It won’t help, Dev—the shield will hold. And being trapped inside it ... it’s killing me cell by cell.”
He refused to accept that, to give in. “Can he stop it, release the pressure?” He felt her body tense. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
Another pause and he knew she wasn’t going to give him the truth. “Don’t do this to me, baby.” He hugged her tight. “Don’t make me helpless.” Never again, he thought, never again would he be helpless while a woman he loved died in front of him.
Her body shuddered. “How can you ask me to lead you into death?”
“For me, Katya. Please.” He wasn’t a man used to begging, but he’d do anything it took to protect her.
“He may be able to,” she said at last “He said I’d make the perfect sleeper assassin. I’d have to be alive for that, but I don’t know what kind of a life it’d be.”
Dev’s anguish shifted to grim determination. “It’ll be life. We can work out the rest later.”
“He’s a cardinal, Dev. His power ... I can’t describe it—it’s endless, vast. He could turn your mind to putty with a single thought.”
Dev had some abilities of his own, not all of them psychic. The director of Shine didn’t need to be a powerful psychic—he needed to be ruthless enough to slit enemy throats if necessary. “You let me worry about that.” Stroking his hand over her hair, he promised himself that Ming would pay for every second of pain, every injury, every drop of blood.
Even as Dev made his silent vow, the man in question was walking through the doors of the Dinarides facility. “All of the Arrows confined here,” he said, “they’re being monitored, restricted from using their abilities?”
The M-Psy beside him nodded. “Yes. All seven are cooperating at present.”
At present. Ming knew he’d have to implement a much more final strategy if and when that cooperation stopped. Arrows—even damaged Arrows—couldn’t be contained indefinitely. “Where’s Aden?”
“With one of the men—monitoring the effects of Jax withdrawal. It can sometimes cause sudden cardiac failure.”
Ming looked at the M-Psy. Unlike Aden, and like most of the medical team, Keisha Bale was not an Arrow. “Aden,” he said now, “is he showing any signs of unusual behavior?”
“As you know,” Keisha began, “he was never put on Jax—it would’ve made him incapable of the value judgments required to monitor the effects of the drug on others.” The M-Psy paused as they walked through a security checkpoint. “However,” she said after the computer cleared them, “that shouldn’t be a cause for concern. Aden’s psychological profile makes him highly unlikely to deviate from the rule book.”
That was what Ming was counting on. As a boy, Aden had been trained not only by other Arrows, but also by his parents—both members of the Squad at the time. He was the solitary living Arrow who’d been taught to become so from the cradle. Those were not easy bonds to break. Even had he wanted to, Aden lacked the medical knowledge to truly interfere—he’d had specialized training when it came to the effects and side effects of Jax, but aside from that, he was only a field medic.
Opening his telepathic channels, Ming contacted another one of the Squad. Vasic, is the situation in Argentina under control?
The answer came fast, though it wasn’t as clear as Ming’s voice, Vasic’s Tp skills hitting just below 6 on the Gradient. It’s going to take a little longer than predicted.
How much longer?
At least four more days. We can do it faster, but you specified no deaths.
Stick to the plan. Ming didn’t want to kill the humans, not because humans weren’t expendable, but because too many things had already been played out on the public stage. Even he had made that mistake with the destruction of the Implant lab—but he’d learned since then. It was time the Council returned to the old way of doing things—behind the scenes, where no one could stop them.
Dev’s heart was still filled with a potent mix of anger, worry, and a furious kind of possession when he walked into the meeting with Jack, Connor, Aubry, Tiara, and Eva—the manager in charge of educational development—the next morning.
Jack and Tiara sat side by side, while Aubry and Eva sat opposite them. Connor, as the representative of the medical team, had positioned himself alone at the other end. Taking in everything with a single glance, Dev looked at Tiara. “Switched camps?” He knew she’d flown back from California specifically for this meeting, leaving Tag to watch over Cruz.
“Always been in this one,” she said with a languid wave. “I’m sane, but there for the grace of God . . .”
“So you think we should encase our emotions in ice?” Aubry as
ked, obviously bewildered. “Damn, Ti, you really want to stop driving Tag crazy?”
Tiara shot him a cool smile. “What’s between me and Tag is between me and Tag.”
“Aubry is right,” Eva interrupted, her accent lending an exotic music to her words. Born in Puerto Rico, she’d only been in New York for two years, since Dev relocated her from a field office on the island. “There’ll be nothing between the two of you if we do what Jack wants and implement Silence.”
“Hold on.” Jack leaned forward, arms crossed on the table, face lined with grim determination. “You think I want to lose the light in my son’s eyes? You think I want to teach him that love isn’t something precious? You think I want to break his mother’s heart?” He shook his head in a violent negative. “But my boy is already losing that light. He killed Spot.”
A shocked silence.
Dev was the first one to speak. “That raggedy old dog of his?” He couldn’t believe it. William doted on the mutt his father had rescued from the pound.
“Yeah.” Jack dropped his head into his hands. “Will cried so hard as we buried the dog. I knew we’d need the body, but I couldn’t do it, couldn’t put Spot in a chiller in front of him.”
“Of course not,” Dev said, and it was a gut reaction. “But you went back, didn’t you?” He knew his cousin. Jack hadn’t graduated at the top of his class in medical school without having a spine filled with pure grit.
“I did an autopsy the night of the day I talked to you, after Will was in bed.” A glance at Dev. “I figured I could be of some use to my son—give him proof that he didn’t kill his pet. I thought I’d find the old guy had had a heart attack or something.”
Eva moved her hand across the table, as if to reach Jack. “He didn’t?”
Jack shook his head again. “His heart was just . . . pulverized. Like a little bomb had exploded inside. The crazy thing is, there wasn’t a mark on him on the outside.”
“Hell.” Connor spoke for the first time. “William’s adamant it was him?”
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