by Nalini Singh
Berkley titles by Nalini Singh
Psy-Changeling Series
SLAVE TO SENSATION
VISIONS OF HEAT
CARESSED BY ICE
MINE TO POSSESS
HOSTAGE TO PLEASURE
BRANDED BY FIRE
BLAZE OF MEMORY
BONDS OF JUSTICE
PLAY OF PASSION
KISS OF SNOW
TANGLE OF NEED
HEART OF OBSIDIAN
Guild Hunter Series
ANGELS’ BLOOD
ARCHANGEL’S KISS
ARCHANGEL’S CONSORT
ARCHANGEL’S BLADE
ARCHANGEL’S STORM
ARCHANGEL’S LEGION
Anthologies
AN ENCHANTED SEASON
(with Maggie Shayne, Erin McCarthy, and Jean Johnson)
THE MAGICAL CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Lora Leigh, Erin McCarthy, and Linda Winstead Jones)
MUST LOVE HELLHOUNDS
(with Charlaine Harris, Ilona Andrews, and Meljean Brook)
BURNING UP
(with Angela Knight, Virginia Kantra, and Meljean Brook)
ANGELS OF DARKNESS
(with Ilona Andrews, Meljean Brook, and Sharon Shinn)
ANGELS’ FLIGHT
WILD INVITATION
Specials
ANGELS’ PAWN
ANGELS’ DANCE
WHISPER OF SIN
Whisper of Sin
Nalini Singh
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
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WHISPER OF SIN
A Jove Special / published by arrangement with the author
“Whisper of Sin” previously appeared in Burning Up, published by Berkley Sensation.
Copyright © 2010 by Nalini Singh.
Excerpt from Shield of Winter copyright © 2014 by Nalini Singh.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
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For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-0-698-15507-7
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Jove Special / March 2014
Cover design by George Long.
Cover photographs: “Chinatown” © Andrey Bayda / Shutterstock; “Man” © CURAphotography / Shutterstock; “Leopard” © Eduard Kyslynskyy / Shutterstock; “Scratch” © Alhovik / Shutterstock.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
Berkley titles by Nalini Singh
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
City Beat: Trouble in Chinatown?
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
EPILOGUE
City Beat: A New Wind
Excerpt from SHIELD OF WINTER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
To May, Jennifer, and Kay ~ I couldn’t have asked for better friends!
The San Francisco Gazette
August 2, 2072
CITY BEAT
Trouble in Chinatown?
Enforcement is refusing to either confirm or deny the rumors of a new organized crime family in the city. The word on the street is that this gang—known by the black “V” they scrawl at the locations of their crimes—intends to take over all illegal operations within San Francisco. So far, V has concentrated its efforts in Chinatown, but our sources say they plan to spread out across the greater Bay area.
Smith Jenson, the telepath who acts as PR manager for local government, has publicly stated that the threat from V is negligible. We beg to disagree. While Psy like Mr. Jenson and his colleagues stay safe in their high-rise apartments, humans and changelings on the ground are beginning to feel the effects of this new threat. There have been no deaths yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
This reporter believes local government needs to step up to the plate. If they don’t, San Francisco might just slip out of their grasp.
ONE
Her hose was shredded, Ria thought, staring uncomprehendingly at the bottoms of her feet. Where were her shoes? Lost somewhere in the alley where that bastard had tried to rape her as “down payment” on the protection money her family refused to pay.
Something fluttered over her shoulders and was tucked around her, warm and thick. A blanket. She gripped it tight, then winced as her bloodied palms made contact with the wool. Her hands spasmed open. Released, the blanket began to slide to the floor of the large paramedic van.
“I’ve got you.” Following the deep voice, she blinked into a face she didn’t know. The changeling who’d thrown her attacker against the wall had been blond and blue-eyed, reminding her of the cocky youth of her younger brother, Ken. This man . . . he was hewn out of rougher material, his jaw shadowed, his eyes the rich amber shade of aged whiskey, his hair thick and dark, a hundred shades of brown and gold intertwined. “Come on, sweetheart, speak to me.”
She swallowed, tried to find words but they lost their way in the chaos of her brain, leaving her dumb. Instead, her mind filled with the terror of the lifetime she’d spent in that alley only minutes from her family home, in one of the streets surrounding the bustle of Chinatown. It had taken mere seconds for everything to change. One moment she was smiling, and the next, her excitement at finishing her final night class had given way to pain and shock as he hit and pawed—
A smooth burst of Mandarin, so unexpected, so welcome that it broke through the haze of pain and fear. She looked up again, astonished. This man, this stranger was speaking to her in the language of her grandmother, asking her if she was okay. She nodded, found the words to say, “I speak English.” She rarely had to say that. Unlike her half-Caucasian mother, Ria had inherited little from her grandmother but her bones. Her hair was stick-straight, but a dark brown instead of jet black. Her eyes were faintly almond-shaped, but only if someone was really looking. She’d gotten the majority of her features from her brown-haired, brown-eyed All-American father.
“What’s your name, darling?” A hand cupping her cheek.
She flinched, but this hand, though big, was gentle. And patient. She relaxed into the warmth after long minutes, reassured by the calluses that spoke of a man accustomed to working with his hands. “Ria. Who are you?”
“Emmett,” he said, his voice h
olding nothing of laughter. “And I’m in charge of you.”
Her brow furrowed, the real Ria fighting her way through the fog of shock. “Who’re you to be in charge of me?”
“I’m big, I’m strong, and I’m pissed as hell that someone dared touch a woman on my watch.”
She blinked. “Your watch?”
“Dorian’s part of my team,” he said, nodding to the blond man who’d turned her attacker into a sack of broken bones. “Wish he hadn’t done such a good job—I would’ve liked to bloody the piece of shit myself.”
Ria wasn’t used to violence, but she knew without a doubt that this man was a changeling, that he could turn into a leopard with a single thought—and that the leopard had no problem with the most brutal kind of justice. When she looked into his eyes, she saw rage . . . and the flickers of something that wasn’t quite human. “He can’t hurt me.” Somehow, she found herself trying to comfort him.
“But he did.” An implacable statement. “And I’m going to sniff out the nest this little viper came from no matter what.”
She glanced at her assailant’s unconscious body. He was alive, barely. But he wouldn’t be talking for a while yet. “He wasn’t working alone?”
“Indications are he’s with a new gang.” Emmett tucked her blanket gently around her feet when it came loose. “Dark River’s done a hell of a lot of work to clear the city of this kind of scum, but sometimes, they pop back up.”
Ria knew of DarkRiver. Who didn’t? The leopard pack, based in the Yosemite forest, had claimed San Francisco as part of their territory when Ria had been a child—no other predatory changelings could enter the city without their permission. But in the past few years, they’d gone further and begun to wipe out human predators, too.
“I can tell you a little about him,” she said, her voice gaining strength on a cresting wave of anger. “He came to my mother’s shop, left an account number where she was supposed to wire ‘protection’ money. We thought he was just another thug.”
“I’ll get the number from you tomorrow. Right now, you need to be seen to.” Sliding one muscular arm under her legs, he curved the other around her back, just below her shoulders, and scooped her up before she knew what was happening.
She gave a startled cry.
“I won’t drop you.” A soothing murmur as he shifted her deeper into the van. “Just getting you out of the wind.”
She should’ve protested, but she was tired and achy and he was so warm. Resting her head against his heart when he sat down with her in his arms, she breathed deep. Her body sighed. He smelled good. All hot and male and real, his after-shave something clean and fresh. Though he clearly needed to shave more than once a day. His jaw rasped against her hair as he settled her more firmly on his lap. Not that she minded, she thought, her eyes fluttering shut.
* * *
Emmett stroked his hand over the hair of the mink in his arms. She was a little thing, and right now, she was at the end of her resources. Enraged at the thought that someone had dared harm her, he held her with conscious gentleness until he felt her begin to relax. When she sighed and snuggled closer, the leopard in him gave a pleased growl—right as Dorian looked into the van.
The blond soldier nodded at Ria. “She okay?”
“Where the hell are the paramedics?” Emmett snarled.
“With the piece of shit.” Dorian shrugged. “I should’ve killed him.”
The feral part of Emmett wanted to tell the man to go out there and finish the job, but he forced himself to think past the leopard’s need to maul and tear. “We need any information he can give us on the Crew, so let’s hope he can talk later.”
“This is when a Psy would come in handy,” Dorian muttered, referring to the psychic race that was the third part of the triumvirate that was their world. “One of the telepaths could rip the information right from the bastard’s head.”
“You guys are gruesome,” said a drowsy feminine voice.
Emmett looked down to find Ria’s eyes closed. “Yeah, we are.” But he had a feeling she was already asleep, her lashes dark-moon crescents against skin so creamy, he wanted to taste it. Returning his attention to Dorian through sheer force of will, he said, “Did you find any emergency contact details in her wallet?” He’d left the young soldier to handle that while he took care of Ria.
“Yeah—parents are on their way.” Dorian’s smile was sharp. “Her daddy sounds like he’s itching for a fight, so maybe you shouldn’t look at her that way.”
“Mind your own fucking business.” He tightened his hold.
Raising his hands, Dorian backed off, laughing. “Hey, your funeral.”
“Go get a paramedic here.”
“I think Tammy just arrived—she can stitch up your girl.”
The DarkRiver healer popped into the van on the heels of Dorian’s statement. “Let me have a look at her,” she said in a soft voice, putting her kit on the floor.
Ria’s eyes snapped open at the other woman’s first touch. Emmett ran a hand down her back in reassurance. “Ria, this is Tamsyn, our healer. You can trust her.” To his leopard’s delight, he felt her body relax almost at once.
“Call me Tammy.” Tamsyn smiled. “Everyone does.”
“I know you,” Ria said an instant later. “You bought a chunk of jade from my mom’s store.”
“Alex is your mom?” Tammy smiled at Ria’s nod. “I told her I needed something to threaten my mate with when he got blockheaded, and she said, why not a block for a block?”
“That sounds more like my grandmother.”
Tammy grinned. “All women sound like their mothers after a certain age.” A wink.
Ria found herself smiling despite herself. “Then I’m doomed.” She held out her hands for Tammy to clean. “It doesn’t actually really hurt anymore.”
“Hmm, let me see. You got this falling on your hands?” Tammy was cleaning the dirt and debris from the wounds as she spoke.
Ria nodded, wincing at the sting of the antiseptic. “Yes.”
The healer looked at her now clean palms. “No cuts that need stitching,” the gorgeous brunette murmured. “Let me look at your face, sweetheart.” Her hands were incredibly competent and careful, for all that she looked like a fashion model, with her height and her elegant bones.
Ria had always wanted to be tall. That was the one thing she hadn’t inherited from her father. Instead, she was stuck with her mother’s diminutive height—but not Alex’s naturally slender body. No, Ria had gotten stuck with short and “curvy.” Hah, more like generously padded. Her mother ate six dumplings in a row and had room for more. Ria ate three and put on five pounds.
“You asleep?” It was a rumble against her ear.
She shook her head. “Awake.” Sort of.
“Your face is going to bruise some,” Tamsyn told her, “but there’s no permanent damage.” She soothed something over the skin. “This’ll help keep the bruising down.”
“Xie xie.” It came out automatically, a response to this healer’s touch. Tamsyn had hands like her grandmother. Caring hands. Trustworthy hands.
“You’re welcome.” A smile she could hear though her eyes were closed. “Emmett, you need to leave us alone for a few minutes.”
She felt the big body around hers tense. Forcing open her lids, she patted him on the chest, not quite sure where she found the courage. The leopard changelings were lethal when roused. But, in spite of the fierce scowl on his face, she had a feeling this cat would never hurt her. “I’ll be okay.”
“Tammy,” Emmett argued, scowl darkening even further, “she’s half asleep.”
“I need to ask her some personal questions,” Tamsyn said in that calm, capable voice, “so I can see if she needs any other meds.”
Ria’s fuzzy brain cleared. “He didn’t get that far. Just knocked me around some.”
A growl filled the air. She jolted upright, heart thudding at a hundred miles an hour. “What was that?”
“Emmett
.”
Blinking at Tammy’s tone, she glanced at the man who held her. “You?”
“I am a leopard,” he said, as if surprised by her surprise.
“Forget him,” Tamsyn said, catching Ria’s gaze as she disinfected the scratches on her knees. “You sure about what happened, kitten? No one’s going to judge you.”
It was impossible not to trust this woman. “I threw my handbag at him, kneed him in the balls. After that, he was more interested in hurting me than . . . you know.”
Tamsyn nodded. “Alright, then. But if you ever need to talk, you call me.” She slid a card into the giant handbag someone had retrieved and put in the ambulance while Ria hadn’t been looking.
“That’s—” Ria began when there was a commotion outside.
“Where’s my daughter? You! Where is she? Tell me right now or I’ll—”
“Mom.” Ria felt tears rise for the first time as her mother entered the ambulance, pushing Tammy out of the way as if the other woman wasn’t stronger and taller.
“My baby.” Alex patted her all over, kissing her forehead with a mother’s tender warmth. “That piece of shit.”
“Mom!” Her mother never swore. When Ria’s grandmother was feeling wicked, she called Alex a “tightass” simply to see her explode—her grandmother was a firecracker.
“You!” Alex fixed a gimlet eye on Emmett. “Why do you have your hands on my daughter?”
Those hands cuddled her even closer. “I’m looking after her.”
Alex huffed. “Didn’t look after her very well, did you? She got attacked right here, almost on the main road.”
“Mom,” Ria said, intending to stop the diatribe, when Emmett calmly nodded and said, “It was my fault. I’ll fix it.”
“It was not your fault,” Ria said, but no one was listening to her.
“Good.” Alex turned back to Ria. “Your grandmother’s waiting for you.”
“How did you manage to make her wait at home?”
“I told her you’d want her special jasmine tea when you got back.”
* * *
Emmett had grown up in a strong and vibrant pack. He’d figured he could handle Ria’s family. That was before he met her grandmother. Five feet nothing of pure fury and a tightly held rage that was all the more impressive for its control. Ria came first, of course. Emmett would’ve allowed nothing less, even if her grandmother hadn’t ordered him to carry Ria—who was protesting that she could “walk, for goodness sake”—into what looked like the grandmother’s bedroom, so she could wash up and change. Soon as he’d completed that task, he was banished to the kitchen to wait.
