Mine to Possess p-4

by Nalini Singh

  Clay pulled open the door and used the newly installed voice activation system to turn on the lights. “What the hell is it with you and Max? He’s fine—I’ve been injured worse and survived,” he muttered after she entered. “What, you have the hots for the guy?”

  Her heart stuttered at hearing he’d been that badly hurt, but she hid it. “You’re making me crazy!” Swiveling, she headed toward the ladder. “I just happen to think he’s a nice, trustworthy, considerate guy. You know, I could do a lot worse!”

  Clay snorted and followed her up the ladder. “Nice. Trustworthy. Considerate,” he mimicked. “Makes him sound about as exciting as shoe leather.”

  “Maybe I don’t want exciting,” she said through gritted teeth, wondering how they had ended up in this conversation. Turning, she faced him. “Maybe I want normal.”

  “Normal?” His tone was edgy, dangerous.

  For the first time in days, she felt a hint of wariness. Clay was tired and annoyed, too. She probably shouldn’t push him. The woman who had flinched at his first touches wouldn’t have. Somewhat to her surprise, Talin found she was no longer that woman. “Normal,” she repeated. “I want a nice, human boyfriend who doesn’t have any kinky hang-ups like licking.”

  Clay took a step toward her. “Kinky?”

  She took a step back. “Uh-huh.”

  “Human?”

  “Definitely human. No claws. No growling. No sharp teeth.” She made her tone so firm, she almost believed herself. “Normal. Ordinary.” Things she had never been. “White picket fence.”

  Clay’s eyes darkened to near black and he stopped his stalking advance. “Really?”

  “Really.” She forced it out. “I’m tired of being on the outside.”

  Clay’s instincts flared awake. “What aren’t you telling me, baby?”

  “Nothing.” She looked up, then back. “I need to get to bed.”

  “Where you can dream about your ordinary human boyfriend?” He advanced toward her once more, his shock that she might actually prefer a human male disappearing under the naked intensity of the emotions swirling in her eyes. “Maybe you’ll imagine yourself into a safe little fantasy world where bad things never happen?”

  She held up her hands as he reached her. They hit his chest, palms flat. “What’s wrong with that? At least humans don’t go mad—protective and tell me I’m not—” She snapped her mouth shut, but he’d heard enough.

  He lifted one of those slender feminine hands and pressed his lips to each fingertip in turn, aware of her racing heartbeat, her breakable bones, her trust in him. It was the last that ripped him to pieces. “Human families can be as territorial.”

  She shook her head. “You predatory changelings take it to the next level. I feel as if I’m running a gauntlet.”

  It was an unexpected confession. The Tally he’d come to know didn’t spend much time feeling sorry for herself. But, he realized with a deep wave of excruciating tenderness, she’d had a lot of shocks in a single day. “You’re mine. Therefore you’re perfect.”

  Her lips twitched. “Idiot.”

  “Maybe.” He nibbled at her fingers. “Once accepted, you’ll have the pack’s strength at your back. We never leave one of ours to drown. Never.”

  “I won’t be accepted, Clay,” she whispered, shifting to lay her head against his chest, one hand still in his. “I feel like a dirty street urchin around the other women, my nose pressed to the window with you on the other side. I can’t shift, I don’t have Psy powers.”

  The image broke his heart. “Did the women say something to you?”

  “Forget it.” She drew back. “I was having a ‘woe is me’ moment. I’m over it.”

  He knew better. “Tally.”

  She pressed her lips together. He waited. She blew out a breath. “Fine! I got interrogated about my intentions toward you.”

  He pulled her closer, holding her with his arms around her waist. “And what are your intentions?” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “Are you planning to divest me of my virtue? I’ll even ask nice.”

  Her breasts rose against him as she drew in a deep breath. “Be serious. They’ll never accept me.” She put her hands back on his chest, spreading out her fingers as if testing the strength of him. He liked it.

  “Some of us wanted to torture Sascha at the start.”

  Her fingers dug into him. He liked that even better. “What? Why?” she asked.

  “A Psy serial killer had murdered Dorian’s sister. We thought Sascha might have information. The pack was enraged and she became the target—Dorian almost ripped out her throat. As for Faith, the first time we met, I accused her of being part of a psychopathic race.”

  “I never would’ve guessed.” Her fingers straightened, petted absently—he wanted to purr. “How did Sascha and Faith become so much part of DarkRiver?”

  “They’ve proven their loyalty.”

  “I have to do the same before they’ll accept me.” Sighing, she braced her forehead against his chest. “Is it okay for a human to bite people, too?”

  He grinned, wondering if she even realized how easily she was cuddling into him. “Go to bed, Tally. You’re tired and grumpy.” He kissed the tip of her ear. The beast’s hunger was a razor-sharp blade, but it had been soothed by this contact. Not that it mattered. Clay would not take Tally until she was ready to come to him. He never again wanted to see fear of him in her eyes. It had damn near killed him the first time around.

  She rubbed her face against him. “I might be, but you don’t have to point it out.” But she took his advice and broke away. “See you tomorrow morning?”

  “Bright and early.” He waited until she was safely in her room before going downstairs and using the main communications panel to put through a call.

  Vaughn’s face wore a scowl when he answered, his hair sleep-tangled. “What? Something wrong?”

  “I need to talk to Faith.”

  The other sentinel’s scowl deepened. “You got me out of bed because you want to talk to my mate? There are laws against that sort of thing.” A slender hand touched his bare shoulder and then Faith’s face appeared on-screen beside Vaughn.

  “Clay? What’s the matter?”

  “The matter is that I want you to leave Talin be.” Tally could look after herself but that didn’t mean she should have to. She’d spent too long doing exactly that. It was time for someone else to look after her.

  Concern instead of insult dawned in Faith’s eyes. “I’m your friend.” She seemed to wrestle with her thoughts before adding, “I care.”

  “Vaughn,” Clay growled.

  Vaughn pressed a kiss to his mate’s temple. “Come on, Red. I’ll explain the facts of life to you.”

  “Wait—Faith, you talked to the NetMind recently?” The NetMind was a neosentience that lived in the PsyNet—it was the Net, to some extent—and it liked Faith. It might prove the perfect source of information about any Psy involvement in the kidnappings.

  Faith shook her head. “I get the feeling it’s being careful not to contact me. It may be because Councilor Krychek is too good at tracking its movements and it doesn’t want to give away the fact that it can talk to Psy outside the Net.”

  Clay shrugged off the loss. Even if Faith had been able to contact it, communication with the neosentience was difficult. “Thanks.”

  “Clay,” Faith said, her face tormented, “I want you to be happy.”

  “Tally makes me happy.” He turned off the screen, a feeling of rightness in his gut. It was true—Tally might infuriate, anger, and frustrate him, but she also made him happy in a way no one else ever had. He wanted to do the same for her.

  That thought in mind, he decided to bed down on the second level in case she needed him. They hadn’t spoken much about her episode from the previous night—she seemed to be trying to ignore it—but the fact was, whatever it was that was wrong with her, it was getting worse. And unlike when he’d been fourteen, Clay couldn’t
slay the monster for her.

  His claws sprang out. To hell with that! He’d kidnap an M-Psy if that was what it took to help Tally. He had no limits when it came to her. None.

  The dream was one Talin had been having for years. Unlike the other things that haunted her, this one wasn’t a nightmare. It was almost peaceful.

  She floated in a field of black, her body insubstantial. Occasional stars flickered in greeting, but it was the strands of living rainbow weaving through the darkness that truly captured her attention. They seemed almost alive, full of sparkling mischief.

  As always, she halted, reached out, touched a strand. And as always, that was the moment when the peace disappeared. Need raced through her body, such deep, aching, incomprehensible need that it rocked her to the core of her soul, had her jerking awake, grasping the night air for…something, something important.

  But there was nothing but emptiness there, nothing but stillness.

  Heart thudding, she glanced at the small bedside clock. Four a.m. Her personal witching hour. She should stay here, she told herself. If she went downstairs, she’d disturb Clay—his hearing was too keen to allow her to move about undetected. A branch shifted against the window, throwing shadows into the room.

  They didn’t frighten her. The forest was Clay’s home. It spoke of safety and strength. Just like him. Admitting that she didn’t want to stay up here, much less alone, she got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants to go with her tank top and panties. Usually, she slept in clothes she’d be ready to run in, but two nights with Clay nearby and she felt secure enough to indulge. Ready, she opened the trapdoor and began to head down.

  “Tally?”

  Startled by the sleepy murmur, she squinted into the darkness. Night-glow eyes looked at her from below the window, distracting her enough that she forgot to be afraid of the dark. “Clay?”

  “Hmm.” Those eyes closed, but their position told her he’d made up a bed on the floor.

  Totally unprepared for his presence, she hesitated midway down the ladder.

  “Can’t sleep?” His eyes opened again.

  She shook her head, realizing he could see her perfectly well.

  “Come here.” It was a lazy masculine invitation.

  CHAPTER 25

  That voice. Deep. Husky with sleep…and an oh-so-seductive hint of bad.

  She shivered, her nipples tightening against the soft cotton of the tank top. She’d asked him to be her friend but at that moment, friendship wasn’t what her body wanted. Panicking, she gripped the ladder with desperate hands. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Come on, Tally.”

  He sounded so drowsy, so persuasive, that she hesitated. What harm would it do to sit with him for a while? And he had promised to behave. She told herself that that wasn’t disappointment biting into the most sensitive parts of her body. “I can hardly see.” With small, careful steps, she made her way to the foot of his mattress.

  “Very little ambient light,” he murmured. “Lights on, night setting.”

  A soft glow lit up the kitchen area. She adored him for the thought but decided she could handle this. “Lights off. I’m okay. Just don’t close your eyes.”

  The tempting sound of sheets sliding over skin. “Made you a space by the wall.”

  She hadn’t expected anything else—Clay would never allow her to be on the vulnerable open side of the mattress. Dropping down to her knees, she felt her way around and on to what seemed to be a very well made futon. “It’s so comfortable,” she said, fitting herself between the wall and Clay. The bottom part of the mattress was firm, but he’d thrown some kind of thick feather duvet over the sheet. “Like being on a cloud.”

  “Mmm.” His hand touched her hip and he moved her until her back spooned against the delicious heat of his chest.

  She let herself be pulled, let him cover her with a soft blanket and push one muscular thigh between hers, let him wrap his strength around her. Not only that, she made herself quite comfortable on the arm he slipped under her head. “Are you awake?” He was so hot and he smelled male in the best sense of the word. She blushed at the realization that she was tempted to lick his skin to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. “Clay?”

  The arm around her waist squeezed. “I’m sleeping.”

  She smiled at the bad-tempered response and snuggled even tighter against him. He dropped a kiss in the curve of her neck, pretended to snore. Her smile turned into a grin. “I want to talk.” About Max, about the children, about nothing and everything. Sensing his indulgent mood, she dared play her fingers over his arm, trying to quiet the hunger inside of her, to assuage this need she had for him. “Wake up.”

  He growled low in his throat and bodily shifted her until she faced him, or more accurately, the hard wall of his chest. Then one of his hands stroked up to her nape, pressing her cheek against his heated skin. “Sleep.”

  Putting her hands against the resilient strength of his pectorals, she opened her mouth to argue when a yawn overtook her. “I don’t wanna,” she murmured, conscious of him rubbing her lower back with his other hand. The slow circles were nice…they made her limbs feel heavy, relaxed. Safe.

  Clay felt Tally surrender to sleep minutes after she’d refused. It would’ve made him smile had he not been fighting the urge to wake her right back up and ease the pain in his cock. The leopard was drunk on the scent of her. It urged him to taste her in every way a man could taste a woman. He wanted to lick, to bite, to drive into her with raw animal heat.

  Patience, he told himself. She’d been scared of him only days ago and now she slept in his arms. Tally was remembering what she was to him. Soon, her childhood memories of absolute trust would merge into the liquid heat of adult desire. God, the scent of her arousal was a drug he could lap up for hours. One of these days, she was going to get curious enough to taste him, too. Then they’d play his kind of games.

  Tonight he’d hold her, and when she woke, he’d tease her just enough to make her wonder about what came next. Smile slow and satisfied despite the heavy ache in his body, he closed his own eyes, settled her firmly against him, and let sleep take him under.

  But things didn’t go according to plan. The leopard clawed to life at the first sign of her distress. Birdcall filled the air, the room lit by stray beams of dawnlight, but all he could see was Talin on her back, eyes closed, breath coming in tortured gasps.

  “Talin, wake up,” he ordered in his most steely voice.

  Her eyes snapped open, the cloud gray washed to black in violent panic. Her breathing got worse, a gulping scrape that was almost metallic in its harshness.

  “Stop it.” He cupped her face with one hand. “You’re hyperventilating. Calm down.”

  After three more dangerously shallow breaths, she seemed to focus on him and nodded. He watched as she tried to bring herself under control, felt her fear when air continued to elude her. Her hand raised to her neck and her eyes pleaded with him. “C-c-can’t,” she somehow managed to say and he realized this wasn’t a psychological issue.

  “Is something blocking your airway?” he asked, terrified but knowing he had to keep his reactions under control. Tally needed him to think.

  She shook her head, then lifted both her hands and closed them together, palm to palm, those remarkable eyes of hers furiously focused. The thin ring of amber seemed to glow molten gold in the morning light.

  “It feels like your airway’s closing up?”

  At her nod, he lifted his hand from her cheek and rose to a sitting position. Then, putting his hands under her shoulders, he helped her up, too. She sat leaning against the wall below the window, eyes locked to his, one hand fluttering at her throat.

  “Is that better?”

  She shook her head, reaching for him with her other hand. He held it, his mind racing. He had emergency medical supplies in a first aid kit Tamsyn kept updated. He also had some medical training—enough to patch up himself or another packmate until they could get to their hea
ler. But what Talin was now experiencing was nothing close to a bleeding gash or broken arm.

  “I’ll be back, baby.” Breaking her hold with that promise, he ran to grab the medical kit from under the sink, then snatched up his cell phone from where he’d dumped it on the breakfast table. Punching in Tamsyn’s number as he arrived back at Tally’s side, he saw that her breathing had worsened. Her skin was starting to lose color.

  “Hold on, Tally.” He stroked his fingers down her throat. “You hold on for me.” An order, not a request.

  Fighting to keep her eyes open, she closed her hand over his wrist as he waited for someone to answer the call. He knew it would be answered—as their healer, Tamsyn was never out of contact.

  “Clay, what is it?” Her voice came on the line, all business.

  “Something’s wrong with Talin. She can’t breathe. It’s like her throat’s closed up.”

  “Any blockages?”

  “She says no.”

  “Has she got any major allergies?”

  “No, nothing,” he said on the heels of her question, knowing that from childhood.

  “Ask her—it’s something she could have developed.”

  “Baby, major allergies?”

  Another shake of her head, this one slow, heavy. Faint traces of blue edged her lips.

  “Nothing,” he repeated, before a memory flickered awake. “But she used to have a small pollen allergy. Used to make her sneeze.”

  “How’s her heartbeat?”

  He pressed his fingers to the pulse in her neck, his control growing ragged with each erratic beat. “Too damn slow.”

  “Turn the phone toward her so I can see her face.”

  Clay did as ordered, then brought the phone back to his ear. “Tammy?”

  “Do you have the kit?” Her tone was calm, assured.

  “Yes.” He opened it.

  “There’s a small preloaded pressure injector on the top left-hand side of the lid.”

  He saw it at once. Sliding it out of the built—in slot, he flicked off the cap. “Where?” He didn’t ask what it was, what it might do. There wasn’t time.