by Nalini Singh
She'd made her decision, would not be held hostage to childhood memories and the horror of her mind being crushed by a building roar of noise. She needed to learn who Silver Mercant was without Silence. For this experiment, she would assume nothing. Not even that her life depended on purest Silence, a truth she'd been taught as a child and never before questioned.
Her grandmother would've never lied to her about that, would've never hobbled her, but given all the recent revelations about the flaws in Silence and the Psy Council's manipulation of their people, she had to assume that Ena herself might not have had all pertinent information. Most important, she'd stop fighting an undeniable truth: that the only reason she'd permitted Valentin to touch her was that he caused her to react in ways no one else ever had.
Rough, tough Valentin Nikolaev had gotten under her defenses from day one.
"You have to know one thing before we do this." She deliberately moved her hand to the bare skin of his forearm.
Valentin shuddered. "An uncivilized bear might take that as permission to break the rules about not touching you skin to skin, but since I'm a gentleman bear, I'm going to ask." Deep and rough, his voice scraped over her skin like he was rubbing his stubbled jaw against the most sensitive parts of her. "Skin contact okay now?"
"Yes, but that's not what you need to know." His skin was hot under hers, the dark hairs on his arms giving it a texture that wasn't smooth but wasn't rough, either. He had hair on his chest, too--she could feel the springiness of it under her cheek through his shirt.
"There's a high chance I'll return to Silence." Her grandmother might not have had all the information, but one truth no one could change: pre-Silence, Silver's sub-designation had been considered extinct.
No Tp-A had ever survived to adolescence, much less adulthood.
"I'll take that risk." Valentin's right hand curved around her throat. "But I should warn you, too, Starlight," he whispered against her ear. "I'm playing for keeps."
Her pulse sped up, her skin flushing as blood surged to the surface in a primal response to the gauntlet Valentin had thrown down. Her first instinct was to stifle the physical response under a wave of arctic ice . . . but she was Silver Fucking Mercant and she'd made a decision, would see it through.
Valentin wrapped his hand more firmly around her throat.
It should've felt like a threat. It felt like something else altogether, the sensation one she didn't have the experience to process. Ignorance was not a concept with which Silver had an acquaintance. "Explain what's happening."
"We're happening." Valentin stroked her throat with a gentleness that did nothing to hide the blatant possessiveness of the contact. "But you're exhausted and now that I've made you boneless"--unconcealed smugness--"I'm going to allow you to sleep. The Church should give me a sainthood."
Silver yawned, her eyes gritty. Yet she didn't want to stop.
Want was a forbidden concept under Silence. Under the Protocol that stripped Psy of emotion, things were framed in terms of necessity and checks and balances. But that prohibition no longer applied, and Silver was discovering the craving power of want. Such as the need to feel Valentin's not-rough, not-smooth skin against every inch of her.
His hand went motionless on her throat without warning. "Will it hurt you? To break out of the Silence?"
"No. I have control over the structural scaffolding of my Silence." Ena had made dead certain no Mercant child had pain controls built into his or her mind. Silver would not be crippled by an excruciating backlash should she breach the Protocol.
Valentin began to stroke her throat again. "Good." A rumbling sound in his throat. "If you get changed and slip into bed, moyo solnyshko, I'll massage you some more."
Silver realized he was negotiating with her, decided the compromise was acceptable. "I need a minute."
Valentin brushed his fingers over her skin once more before getting off the bed. The loss of his earthy scent; his heat; his big, solid presence, it was disorienting enough to cut through her drowsiness.
"I'll leave the door slightly ajar," Valentin said, his eyes ringed by amber and his voice still holding that rough depth that said she was speaking to both parts of him. "If you say my name, I'll hear it."
Silver watched him until he left the room, then got up to ready herself for bed. All the while, she considered the disorientation she'd felt when he broke contact, the sudden . . . howl of emptiness. Emotion was dangerous. It created need and need created vulnerability. The smart thing would be to step back, return to the cold insulation of Silence.
Be yourself.
Words her grandmother had spoken to her when Silver was a child of ten, the two of them standing at a Mercant property in the country, the landscape flowing out endlessly in front of them. The wind had tugged at Silver's white smock, unfurled a strand of hair from Ena's chignon.
"In a world of those who follow the rules without deviation," Ena had added, "those who innovate even in the shadows, will rule. Never be a carbon copy."
Having changed into white pajama pants printed with the outlines of trees and a simple black tank, Silver brushed out her hair before getting into bed.
"Valentin."
He entered so quickly she knew he'd been waiting impatiently for her. Shutting the door behind him, he ran his hand over the light panel to pitch the room into total blackness. She could feel him walking toward her regardless, the size and sheer power of him disrupting the air patterns.
"Lie on your front."
In the dark, his voice reached even deeper inside her. Skin aching in a way that wasn't pain, she turned over onto her front and swept her hair to the side out of habit.
The bed dipped.
Her pulse accelerated.
"I'm definitely going to play with your pretty hair now." A hot breath against the back of her neck, a tug on her skull, as if he'd gently fisted his hand in the unbound strands. His body was a wall of primal power over her. "So soft. I want to hold it in my hands while I kiss you wet and deep."
Silver's breath lost its rhythm.
Then Valentin put one big hand on her upper arm. An electrical surge arced through her body, smashing out of every single nerve ending she possessed. Her eyes snapped open, her heartbeat so jagged it was in her throat. "Stop."
Valentin broke contact at once. "You're hurting." It was an angry charge, the sound all bear. "I am not going to do anything that'll cause you pain."
Silver felt the bed begin to move, as if he were getting off. "Don't go."
A rough, grumbling sound, but his weight came over her again, his elbows braced against the mattress on either side of her head. "I want to bite you right now." It didn't sound like a playful sexual threat.
Fingers curling into the sheets, Silver said, "We rushed it." Her fault. "No more skin contact tonight. I have to build my tolerance."
Valentin didn't touch her even through her clothing; she could feel the waves of fury coming off him at the thought he'd caused her pain.
"Have I ever lied to you?" She should've known the first time she told him the truth when she didn't have to, that Valentin Nikolaev was dangerous to her.
He grumbled against her again. "Why do you sound so pissy when I'm the one who's got a right to be mad?" Teeth closing on her shoulder, over the delicate cloth of her tank top, but despite his threat, he didn't bite.
The pressure was enough. It made her toes curl, the physiological response inexplicable. "Valyusha," she said softly, having the sense of calming a wild creature she'd startled. "I'm not hurt. I was just being Silver Fucking Mercant, trying to do it all right now."
Releasing her shoulder, Valentin came down more heavily over her, his erection a rigid brand against her lower back.
Chapter 23
Male bears are excellent and generous lovers, albeit demanding. Be enthusiastic. Be demanding in return. And whatever you do, never ever look bored. Your gorgeous bear lover could have a surprisingly fragile ego.
--From the December 2079
issue of Wild Woman magazine: "Skin Privileges, Style & Primal Sophistication"
STARLIGHT HAD FALLEN asleep.
After calling him Valyusha, which made him feel petted and adored.
Valentin had been determined to stay mad regardless, had wanted to grumble some more at her. But half a minute after he'd settled his body onto hers, and while he was still building up his growling words, she'd gone liquid with sleep under him.
Good thing he had an ego "the size of an elephant"--as per Nika--or he might've taken Silver's descent into sleep as a mortal insult. As it was, he wanted to cuddle her close and kiss the life out of her. All was forgiven. Because Silver Fucking Mercant had fallen asleep under his heavy, powerful bear body.
If that didn't betray deepest trust, he'd eat his own foot.
Tempting as it was to curl himself around her and play with her hair, stroke her body, he got up and, after pulling a blanket over her, made himself leave. If she'd reacted that badly to his hand on her flesh, she wasn't ready to handle being tucked possessively into his body.
Valentin scowled at the memory of how she'd gone so stiff and still. "No more rushing," he said, bear and man in agreement. "We're going to be as patient as those stupid pandas."
After he left Silver's room, his plan was to head to his own room, but a loud noise had him changing direction. Pavel and Yakov were on the floor of the Cavern, apparently in the throes of attempting to murder each other.
He hauled them apart with no care for their bodies. The two were damn hard to break. "Quiet," he said in a tone that brooked no disobedience. "Silver is sleeping."
They gave him identical disgruntled looks. "Why do we have to be quiet?" Yakov demanded while his brother tried to fix the bent left arm of his spectacles.
He shook them. Hard. "Because Silver is sleeping. Make any more noise and I'll pound you both flat."
Spectacles on, Pavel straightened his half-torn shirt like it was a tuxedo. "How come you like her more than us?"
Valentin was well used to that gleam in the other man's eye.
He pointed a finger first at Pavel then at Yakov. "I'm going to bed. Make sure the clan doesn't fall down around us."
Leaving StoneWater in their care because despite their current behavior, the twins were powerful and loyal to the pack--and as thick as thieves when not attempting to kill each other--he went to his room and stripped for bed. The erection he'd barely got under control after getting out of Silver's bed returned in full force the instant he was alone.
Her skin had been so silken under his touch, her body so lithe. She smelled like darkest honey. Lush and complicated and with a hidden bite. He wanted to lick her up. Use his tongue on her until her thighs clenched on his head and she pulled his hair so hard it hurt.
No control, no distance. Just his Starlight wild for him.
Groaning but quite willing to torture himself further, he lay down in bed . . . and his mood shattered, his eyes locked on the ring he kept on his bedside table. It was a deliberate reminder to be vigilant, to never forget the blood that ran in his veins--and the terrible price it had extracted.
StoneWater had been the strongest pack in the country in his grandfather Kirill's generation. His father's father was now a deeply wounded man who couldn't bear to live in Denhome, the reason Valentin saw his beloved babushka Anzhela only rarely. But in his prime, Kirill had been one of the strongest bears in a proud clan.
Back then, StoneWater had controlled such a vast swath of land that, in changeling terms, Russia had been all but theirs. BlackEdge had taken over a quarter of that territory in the time of the alpha before Zoya, the wolves becoming increasingly powerful while StoneWater crumbled.
Looking back, it was no surprise they'd lost what they had. StoneWater had been under bad management, with a resulting loss of bears to other clans leaving them shorthanded--because in the changeling world, you only kept what you could hold. A brutal law that kept the peace.
Predatory changelings were hesitant to attack any clan or pack that could protect what was their own. Conversely, clans didn't overreach, conscious they'd get no support from fellow changelings for their arrogance. Which was why StoneWater had pulled back when the wolves started growing stronger than they'd been in previous generations. They'd let part of their territory go rather than lose hundreds of lives in a pointless territorial battle.
It all made sense . . . except it hadn't had to be that way.
Valentin had been ten when his father made the decision not to fight the wolves. It should've caused Mikhail Nikolaev incredible anguish that StoneWater was weakening under his leadership, but Valentin's father--Valentin's alpha--had already begun to change from the man who'd taught Valentin how to track, how to semi-shift, how to do a hundred other things.
The loss of land, however, that wasn't the deepest wound, wasn't the one that bled and bled without pause.
Zoya had tried to stanch the flow, failed.
Valentin had come to power on the driving need to fix the worst hurt, heal his clan, but his ascension had instead led to the loss of a quarter of his people. That loss, he couldn't ever forget, no matter what else he was doing. StoneWater's festering wound had split families, friendships, lives.
It kept him awake every single night.
Not the land gone before he was alpha. Not the territory now held by wolves.
It was the people. His people.
Out there in the darkness all alone. Alphaless because they'd rather live broken and lost than accept Valentin and the tainted blood that ran in his veins.
Something brushed his mind, a strange awareness.
He frowned. He knew what it felt like to have Psy knock on his brain. Some idiot was always trying to be the one to break changeling shields, but this didn't feel like that. It felt . . . gentler, a caress rather than an attack. Sitting up, he tried to follow the sensation, but it was gone, a gossamer thread whipped away by the jerk of movement.
Had Silver reached out to him in her sleep?
His fisted hand opened, his bruised heart starting to beat again. "Good night, Starlight."
The Ruling Coalition of the Psy
"WE HAVE A leak--it has to do with the information about the necessity for human minds in the PsyNet." Nikita Duncan's voice was frigid as she made that pronouncement.
Kaleb leaned back in the chair in his home study, his body in Moscow while a significant part of his mind attended the Ruling Coalition meeting in a secure psychic vault. Of course, he was never totally unaware, even while on the Net--no one would ever get close enough to harm his body while his mind was otherwise occupied.
"It's confirmed?" Anthony Kyriakus asked, the other man's mind surrounded by impenetrable shields. As the leader of a family that had many of the world's best foreseers, he was both extremely intelligent and extremely strong.
"Yes." Nothing in Nikita's psychic voice betrayed that she and Anthony had a relationship outside of the Ruling Coalition. Exactly what that relationship was, no one was quite certain.
Nikita was a former Psy Councilor, ruthless and focused on her bottom line. Anthony had only joined the Council toward the end--and he'd proven to be a rebel who'd fought for a new world order. The only thing Nikita had in common with Anthony appeared to be their blood loyalty to family.
Both would kill to protect their own.
"Here." Nikita uploaded data into the closed vault of the Coalition chamber. They'd built the chamber together, the decision not to use the previous Council chambers unanimous. No one knew what codes or back doors were buried within, what nasty surprises might lurk behind the slick walls.
Nikita's document flashed up against the black of this vault, silvery streams of data that their minds interpreted into the correct forms for understanding.
Kaleb shifted forward physically. "Where did you get this?" They were looking at an internal HAPMA document that was short and to the point.
The Psy want to enslave us to save their HIVENET. They need a pound of HUMAN FLESH
for every pound of Psy. We all know what they'll do to get that. Brothers and sisters, we will not be SUBJUGATED! We will RISE! We will FIGHT!
Freedom, independence, humanity! HAPMA!
"The group appears to be small, the members fiercely loyal to one another," Nikita said. "I've been unable to track any real information about them. I received this from an informer in the Alliance--it was sent to Bowen Knight an hour after the second round of attacks. My informer was in the right place at the right time, was able to make a copy."
Once again, Nikita proved why she'd survived so many decades. Kaleb hadn't been able to break anyone in Knight's inner circle, but Nikita had obviously found a spy on the periphery. Likely someone as innocuous as a sub-assistant to an assistant.
"Could it be a double bluff?" Anthony asked Kaleb. "Knight feeding the information you gave him to this group, then having it be redirected to him to give him plausible deniability?"
"No," Kaleb said. "Bowen Knight understands this information could cause widespread panic in the Psy. He might distrust our race, but he's not capable of inciting a genocide."
"I agree." Ivy Jane Zen's voice, the president of the Empathic Collective speaking for the first time. "I've met Bo. He's a hard man, but he's not evil or vindictive."
It was Aden Kai, leader of the Arrows, who spoke next. "How certain are you that the note is genuine?"
"No way to confirm." Nikita's psychic tone remained as cold as the emptiness of space. "HAPMA is too new, but it doesn't matter who sent it, or even if my informant is a double agent who made this up to fool me."
"No," Anthony said quietly, "because the fact that humans are necessary to the Net is true."
"HAPMA could cause catastrophic terror in those of our race by blasting this information to the media," Aden said. "Why are they using it only to inflame their own people?"
"Hivenet," Kaleb murmured. "If they really believe that, they must believe all Psy already know and are working together to enslave humans." To this group, the Psy weren't individuals but a single hateful mass.
"Secrets are poisonous." Ivy's psychic voice was gentle but firm. "I still say we need to share the truth."
Aden Kai remained silent. The Arrows always watched first. And they backed any calls made by the empaths. Not because the deadly men and women of the squad didn't have their own opinions, but because they believed the empaths were the Psy race's conscience--and Arrows had a lot of darkness in their past.
