Mine to Possess (24 page)

She gave him a small smile before returning her attention to the others. The utter rightness of it cut him off at the knees, made him want to wipe away the past and make her his.
Only
his. It was what she should have always been. “If we carry our theory through,” she said, “it means that Shine is tracking down children with a Psy bloodline, more specifically descendants of those Psy who defected from the Net because of Silence.”

Her eyes widened. Letting go of him, she scrabbled through the files. “These numbers—I couldn't figure out what they meant. But if you look at Jon as a descendant with a lot of Psy blood, it makes sense. He's labeled as .45.”

“Forty-five percent Psy?” Sascha nodded. “What about—”

Talin had already found the numbers for the other abducted kids. “Forty, thirty-six, thirty-nine—nothing lower than thirty-five percent.” Her fingers touched the edge of the extra file Dev had sent through. She'd figured it to be a mistake. “And here's mine.”

“You Psy, Tally?” Clay lips lifted up in amusement.

“Hardly. Look.” She showed him the percentage marker next to her name, her sudden fear shifting into scowling outrage. “Point zero three!
Three
percent! It's a joke!” Though her minuscule Psy blood might explain her “feelings.” More likely, she snorted inwardly, they were the result of plain old human intuition. “Makes me wonder why Shine took me on in the first place.”

Clay's amusement turned into disbelief. “That low? What about your memory?”

“According to this, my maternal grandfather had an eidetic memory. And he was a hundred percent human.” Her heart quieted. “We humans aren't without our gifts.”

“I know that.” Clay slid her hair through his fist. “Maybe we're not giving Shine enough credit. Could be they take on mostly human children, too. After all, a lot of the renegade Psy had to have married humans, so they can't think of themselves as Psy.”

“I think you might be right. There's another consideration.” She stared at the documents in front of her. “Some of the Shine kids are too gifted to worry about mundane things like files and organization. We worker-bee types pick up the slack—could be one more reason for seeking out the mostly human descendants.”

Sascha gave her an odd look. “You know, I've heard other humans refer to themselves as the worker bees of the world. But I don't—” She shook her head. “We'll discuss that later.”

Talin nodded. “We need to talk to Dev now.”

“Probably go better if you do it alone. We'll wait in my office,” Lucas said.

Talin waited until the mated pair had left before getting up and walking to the computer screen. Touching a key, she activated the comm function.

Clay went to stand behind her and when she leaned back into him, he felt something tight in him ease. “Call him.”

Putting one hand over the arm he'd wrapped around her middle, she entered the private code Dev had sent with the files. “Clay, if we're right, it means I'm part Psy.”

“You smell human. You taste human.” He nipped at her ear. “And you have the heart of a human. Don't worry—hell, I'm pretty sure even Luc has more than three percent Psy blood.”

“How did you know I was worrying?”

Because he understood her with a part of him he couldn't explain. “You're transparent.” Putting his hands on her hips, he nudged her attention forward as the screen cleared to show Devraj Santos.

Deep grooves bracketed the other man's mouth. “You've read the files.”

“Yes,” Talin replied. “Is Shine collecting descendants of the Psy?”

Santos didn't bother to pretend surprise. “Not collecting but reconnecting with. The history of the Forgotten—the Psy who left the Net after Silence was voted in—is convoluted, but basically, we had to scatter and hide our identities about three generations back when the Council started hunting us.”

Clay's leopard didn't trust the Shine director's sudden bluntness. “You're very cooperative today.”

“You could say there's been a coup in management.” His jaw firmed to granite. “I showed the old ones pictures of what they're doing to the kids—kids we promised to protect. Two of them had heart attacks. The rest handed over control to me.” Santos's tone was cool, but his eyes betrayed the cost of the choice he'd had to make. “I'll cooperate with the devil if it means stopping the murders.”

“Do you know where Jon is?” Talin asked.

“No,” Santos grit out. “We're almost certain the Psy Council is behind the kidnappings, but we don't know why they're taking the children after so long. We're all of mixed blood now, hardly a threat to their power. Our organs are as mixed as the rest of us—of no use to pure-bred Psy.”

“Focus on locating the mole in Shine,” Clay said. “We'll find Jon.”

The other man's eyes met his. “He's not your child.” Unasked was the question—will you fight as hard for him?

“He's Talin's.” That meant the boy was his, too, was DarkRiver's.

“I'll find the son of a bitch, don't worry about that. Every Shine kid—official and unofficial—has now been warned and offered protection. Those who won't cooperate are being detained until things clear up.”

“You're keeping them prisoner?” Talin asked, then added, “Good.”

Ending the call on Dev's surprised face, Talin relaxed into Clay, finding her strength from his. He pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck and her body hummed, remembering the hard promise of the kiss he'd given her earlier.

“Home?”

“Yes,” she said,
home
.

“Where I can teach you not to mess with me,” he growled. “My reputation is in shreds.”

She wondered if he'd brought up their earlier play on purpose, her leopard's way of giving her a moment's respite from the agony of knowing Jon was out there, being hurt, being brutalized. “I'm not scared of you.”

“You should be. I bite.”

The warning tore a smile from her. “You'd never hurt me.” He'd killed for her, let himself be imprisoned for her, taken her back despite her betrayal in running from him, and, even now, when she might leave him again in the most final way, he stood with her.

Her world rocked on its axis, a hidden door in her mind slamming wide open. All these years she'd told herself she was staying away from him because of the scars of violence, because she didn't want to hurt him, because of so many things. But in this one moment, this instant of absolute clarity, she knew the truth.

She hadn't run because she'd been afraid of Clay.

She'd run because she'd been afraid of being loved that much, terrified that she would lose the precious gift of it when Clay finally saw the reality of who she was—a used-up, discarded bit of trash, what Orrin had made her, good for only one thing.

So she had left him first.

Ashaya checked through
the records and found well over a hundred names. It was far more than she had expected, far more than could be explained by even the most convoluted idea of research. Why had Ming let this continue? Larsen's research theories made no rational sense, and, its murderous tendencies aside, the Council did not waste time on useless endeavors.

She began to examine the list with a closer eye. It was the first time she had seen it.

Just like the meeting with Jonquil Duchslaya had been the first time she had spoken to one of the children. Larsen had been very, very careful—at least at the start. As far as she could figure, the majority of the children had been experimented on at one of the Council's covert northern labs.

However, the base of operations had been moved to this lab after it went fully functional—without her agreement or knowledge. Not only had the parties responsible shown a flagrant disregard for her status as the lab's head scientist, once here, they had made less than a token effort to hide their actions. They must have thought her oblivious to what was going on because she spent so much time in her private research areas.

They hadn't been far off the mark, but for the wrong reasons. It didn't matter. Because of her delay in realizing the truth, several children had died, in
her
lab. Two more remained—the boy, Jonquil Duchslaya, and the girl, Noor Hassan. Ashaya stared at the files and knew that they would meet the same fate if she didn't prevent it.

She didn't feel pity for them. She was Psy. She didn't feel anything. However, the fact that one of her putative research assistants was doing this without her authorization made this about who held the reins of power. Which was why she wasn't going to go to Ming and complain. Nor was she going to take Larsen to task.

This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. If her strategy worked, then not only would these children survive, the Psy Council would no longer have anything with which to coerce her cooperation.

That thought in mind, she began the journey that would lead her upstairs and to the cornfields outside. The guards were becoming accustomed to her daily walks, exactly as she'd planned. Of course, her plan of misdirection was hampered by the fact that she had a very short period in which to lay the groundwork. But the haste couldn't be helped, not if Jonquil and Noor were to walk out alive.

Some might have said she didn't want the children to die because she'd somehow retained a conscience, even in the depths of Silence. Ashaya would have disagreed. She had no conscience, no heart—like her own son, Jonquil and Noor were nothing more than bargaining chips.

All she had to do now was find a party willing to negotiate their release.

Night had fallen
in a soft whisper, but Talin hardly noticed. She sat at the small breakfast table on the second floor of the lair, her mind still spinning with the realization she'd had mere hours ago. She wanted to deny it but it rang with the clarity of absolute truth, a truth she had to understand. Yes, her fear of watching Clay turn from her in disgust had been at the root of her actions, but that fear had been tangled up with so many other threads.

She had been on the cusp of womanhood when she'd run from Clay with that most brutal of lies—young, confused, lost. Now that she was willing to
see
, it was stark that in her confusion, she had mixed up the protective fury of Clay's love with the jealous rage she'd seen in Orrin. That twelve-year-old girl who had missed Clay so desperately had also been terrified that he would destroy her trust if she let him back into her life. The memories of Clay protecting her, keeping her safe, laughing with her, had been the only treasures she'd had left.

Even that wasn't the whole story. It was too simple, and she was through with hiding. The unforgiving reality was that in spite of her youth, she must have subconsciously known that he wouldn't be an easy man to love. No, Clay was hard through and through. But he had loved her enough to put everything on the line—his sanity, his freedom, his pride. All so important to a dominant predatory changeling. She didn't know what he felt for her now, but she knew it was time to hold up her end of the bargain.
To love him enough
. Enough to not let fear stop her, whatever guise it took.

A slight noise cut into her thoughts as Clay pulled himself up to the second level. “Damn, I just got a sharp reminder from Tammy about a pack thing. You've got fifteen minutes to get ready or we'll be late. It's close to six already.”

“I can't,” Talin said, gesturing at the papers spread out on the table, papers she'd barely looked at since coming home. Guilt stabbed. “I have to see if I missed anyth—”

“I told you,” Clay interrupted. “We're taking care of that. We've got people out there right now. I've tapped a Psy connection who might get us something very useful. But this dance, tonight, is important to the pack.”

“I'm not part of DarkRiver.” And she needed time to consider her next step. She didn't know how to be in a relationship, didn't know how to open herself up that much. “I'll be a stranger.”

“No, you won't. You'll be with me.” He stroked his fisted hand along her ponytail. “Please, Tally.”

Her heart clenched. He called her Tally, but he didn't trust her with his soul, the leopard's wariness hidden behind a near-impenetrable shield—yet she knew. Did he think she didn't? Silly, arrogant leopard. She knew him too well, loved him too much, to not see. “You said ‘please,'” she teased, fighting past the painful insight that no matter what happened, he might never again love her as he once had.

“Very funny.”

“I want to. But I'd feel so guilty having fun while—”

“A few hours, that's all. It'll help you get your head back on straight.”

She had to agree with that. Her focus was shot, which reminded her—“Did you get an update on Max?”

“He's fine, conscious. I had a packmate swing by and do a physical check.”

Some of the weight crushing her lightened. “Tell me, why the dance?”

“It's to celebrate the formal blessing of a mating.”

“Like a wedding?”

“Mating is nothing like marriage. It's forever. Mated pairs never choose to leave each other,” he said. “Complete loyalty till death.”

Her soul ached at the thought of the beauty, and the terror, in such a commitment. “Why the blessing if it's already decided?”

“To show the pack's acceptance, welcome Zach's mate into DarkRiver.” His eyes grew intent, penetrating. “You okay, Tally?”

He knew her far too well, too, but she couldn't let him sense this hurt, didn't want her new knowledge—of the love she might've lost forever—to come between them. “I'm fine. Just a little tired.”

His expression gentled. “I need to be there, baby. I'm a sentinel.”

“Your presence matters to them,” she said, so proud of what he'd become. “I understand. Let me freshen up.”

Once in the bedroom, she quickly washed her face and hands, then pulled on the newest and nicest shirt she had packed. It was white and long-sleeved, the severe lines broken up by slender panels of fine lace down both sides. She left on the jeans she was wearing, but let down and brushed her hair. Then, on a whim, she dug around in her bag until she found a little zippered pocket. She thought she'd forgotten to take out something from there the last time she'd—Her hand touched metal.

“Bingo!” She lifted out the faux-silver earrings. A Celtic design, they would swing gently from her ears, dressing up her simple outfit. Her smile dimmed as she stood in front of the mirror slipping them into her ears.

Jon had given her these a few months ago. They were cheap—he'd found them at some flea market—but they meant everything, because he had bought the gift with honest, hard-earned money. “I haven't forgotten you,” she promised with fierce dedication. “
We
haven't forgotten you.” Because finally, after much too long, she had realized her leopard would stand by her through every darkness.

Clay was leaning
against a tree at the edge of the Pack Circle, watching Nico swing Talin around, when he felt a familiar presence. Sascha came to stand beside him, keeping a small distance between them. Though most changelings craved touch, she knew he wasn't one for casual contact.

“She looks like she's having fun.”

Clay nodded. “Yeah.”

“So why are you standing here?”

“I'm not a big dancer.”

Sascha shifted and he knew she'd folded her arms. “That's your excuse for tonight. What about all those other times you choose the shadows?”

“What's this—free psychoanalysis?” He had made it very clear that he didn't want anyone, even Sascha, peering into his emotions. “Been peeping, Sascha?”

“I don't actively have to look, you know that. I pick up emotional echoes like you pick up scents.” She leaned back against his tree. “Things have improved a considerable amount since Talin came into your life, but you're not happy.”

“You're a genius.”

“Stop being flippant,” she said, quiet power in her voice. “This is important. You aren't helping Talin by being this way.”

He glanced at her. “Tally is my business.”

“She might have been once,” she replied. “But you brought her into the pack and now she's ours, too.”

Clay felt the leopard uncurl into a crouch inside of him. “What are you saying?”

“We like her. We'll look out for her. Even against you.”

He tempered his response with cold steel. “I will look out for Talin.”

“I don't know.” She shrugged. “All I see is this wall you've got around yourself, so hard, so thick. She's your way out, Clay, but only if you let her be.”

Nico jerked Talin in a particularly energetic whirl and Clay scowled. She was human, not changeling. He hoped the boy remembered she could be more easily hurt. Then she laughed and he relaxed. “Stop talking in riddles and give it to me straight.”

A frustrated sound. “Fine. Whatever it is that you're letting poison your relationship, you need to get over it. You're not good for
her
like this.”

The blunt comment stunned him. Sascha was intensely loyal to DarkRiver. The fact that she'd put Talin's well-being above his gained her another slice of his respect, even as the implications of her statement angered him. “I'm giving her everything I can. More than I've ever given anyone.”

“Not enough, Clay. And she knows it.”

Claws raked his gut. “She's not like you. She can't feel what I feel.”

“You tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.” She moved into his line of sight, tall enough that he only had to lower his head a few inches to meet her gaze. “Your Tally is one of the most sensitive human beings I've ever met. Some abused children become that way—alert to the slightest changes in the emotional temperature of a room or a relationship. She knows exactly what you feel.”

“Sascha!” Lucas called out from the Circle. “Stop flirting with Clay and come dance with your mate.” His grin was a bright slash.

Sascha turned, her face softening even in profile. “I've said what I had to say. The rest is up to you.” Then she walked toward the Circle and into Lucas's arms. Talin was dancing with Nico right next to the alpha pair and Clay saw her look up at Lucas as he said something and smiled down at his mate.

Even from this distance, he could read the look on her face:
hunger.

Not sexual. Deeper, needier—as if she was witnessing something she thought she would never have. It cut him far deeper than anything Sascha had said.

Pushing off the tree, he strode toward her. Nico saw him over Talin's head and his eyes widened. Clay never danced. The juvenile said something to Talin and released her, backing off to find another partner. She turned, her own eyes huge. “Clay?” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

She seemed not to know where to put her hands. After a few hesitant seconds, she slid them around his waist but kept enough distance between them that she could look up into his face. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” He tried to pull her closer, but she resisted.

“Nothing wouldn't make you look like you want to bite someone's head off.”

“Dance with me.”

“Clay—”

“I'll tell you after the dance.” He'd
show
her. She damn well wasn't going to keep hurting the way she was right now.

“Promise?”

His low growl made one of the nearby juveniles give him a wary look. Talin smiled and snuggled close enough to press her cheek against his heartbeat.

He looked down, bemused. He figured a hundred years later, he still wouldn't understand her completely. The cat in him was pleased by the thought of such an intriguing mate.

Mate
.

Of course she was meant to be his mate. Something settled in him at the conscious recognition of a truth he had always known. The second she accepted the mating bond, she was going to belong to him in the most indisputable of ways. Mates were forever. No leopard mated twice.

Even if their mate died.

His arms tightened reflexively around her.

“Hey,” she complained.

“Sorry.”

“It's okay.” She squeezed her own arms around him as they swayed in opposition to the lively music. “I like dancing with you.”

“Yeah.”

Talin didn't know what was wrong with Clay, but the emotion in that single word was so raw, so powerful, her heart about stopped. She wanted to ask him so many questions, but for now, she held on to him and they danced. It was a perfect moment, a dance with this man she adored beyond all others.

The clock had
barely ticked past ten when they returned home. “I had fun. And now I feel bad.” Taking off her earrings, she put them carefully by the comm panel, then collapsed onto one of those huge cushions Clay used as sofas. “It seems so wrong to have gone dancing while I could have been doing something.”

“What?” Closing the door, he came to loom over her. “What could you have been doing?”

“Well, I could've looked at the files again.”

“And seen nothing you haven't seen ten times already.” Shaking his head, he sat down in a quintessentially masculine sprawl opposite her. “We've set things in motion. Now we wait—sometimes the best way to hunt is to let the prey think you've given way.”

She gave a reluctant nod, knowing he was right. There was nothing else she personally could do. It was time to have faith in Clay and his pack. “Thank you for helping me. For asking your pack to help me.”

She could almost see it, almost touch it—the slow rising of the same heat that had been in his eyes most of the night. And she was its sole focus. Her body tightened.

“I would've done it for their women.”

Implication wasn't enough, not with this heavy warmth threatening to hijack her body. “Am I your woman, Clay?”

It seemed as if even the forest hushed as she waited to hear his answer. Those green eyes, so bright, so beautiful, skated over her face, down her throat, over the rise and fall of her breasts, the curve of her waist, and the legs she had curled under herself. She sucked in an unsteady breath and his body went predator-still.

“Come here, Tally.” It was a command, sensual, rich, erotic.