His mind went blank, his consciousness blinking out.

* * *

—

    SELENKA caught Ethan as he slumped, and though she was strong, he was a man made up mostly of muscle and bone. It took serious effort on her part not to let him fall—but she growled when Alexei made a move to enter the room. “I have him.” She would not allow anyone else near her mate when he was so helpless.

Lucas Hunter’s voice was quiet, and obviously directed at Sascha Duncan, but Selenka heard it. “You do not get between an alpha and their mate, kitten. You know that better than anyone.”

“We’ll wait outside,” Alexei said to Selenka at almost the same instant, so she missed Sascha’s reply. “Aden was teleported out by Vasic ten seconds ago.”

A beam entering the room, a flashlight being placed on the floor so she and Ethan wouldn’t be in darkness.

She heard a protest, was about to snarl again, when she realized it was Memory. Of course it’d be an empath who wouldn’t want to leave when someone was down. Healers were like that. The only reason Sascha had probably listened to Lucas was because she was more experienced and able to control her instincts.

“He’s fine,” she said, trying not to growl too much—not that Memory struck her as particularly fragile. “On the PsyNet assisting with an emergency. We’ll be out when he’s up.”

She heard Alexei grumble, “You want Selenka to claw your face off, lioness? Time to move.”

Memory’s responding growl as she finally left almost made Selenka grin.

Using every muscle she had, she held her mate against her as she lowered them both to the floor. He ended up seated in a leaning position against her shoulder, his head tilted slightly to the side. Pressing a kiss to his throat, she made sure he was comfortable, then just held him, stroking his hair in that way that always made him lean into her, and drinking in his scent.

He might not be conscious, but affection carried through the mating bond, and she hoped it’d carry through to whatever battle Ethan was currently fighting. At least she knew he was alive and well—not only could she see the rise and fall of his chest, hear the beat of his heart; she could feel him along the mating bond.

Dark as night and cold as frost, but with a new depth that fascinated . . . and less bloody sharpness to the jagged edges. The static that had disappeared during the experiment was back, but it was muted, less in the way of their bond.

None of it surprised her.

Selenka was no Psy, but she was dead certain she’d ID’d what lived inside Ethan. The impact had reverberated loud and clear through their bond the instant he lowered his shields, but her mind struggled against the impossibility of it. Bozhe, that he was sane was a miracle—and a testament to his incredible mental strength.

“I’m here, zaichik.” She kissed his jaw. “I really will claw off the face of anyone who tries to get to you. You’re mine, and I’m a possessive wolf.”

She didn’t know how long the two of them sat there, but the dust disturbed by their earlier movements had long since settled when he stirred at last. His lashes fluttered . . . and he froze.

“It’s me.” Wolf puppyishly happy he was awake, she kissed his jaw, nipped excitedly at his throat. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“You’re here.” Dazed words.

Nipping at his shoulder, she said, “Don’t sound so surprised or I’ll really bite you.”

“I felt you in the darkness, a wild golden glow that lit up the dark. But I thought it was an illusion.”

“I’m no illusion, Ethan, and never will be.” She pressed her lips to his nape, her own heart starting to beat in a proper rhythm at last. “Tough one?”

Sitting up to face her, all pale eyes and devotion. “Tracking those with Scarab Syndrome—they appear to be attacking the Net.” He pushed sweat-damp hair from his forehead, looked around. “The others?”

“I kicked them out—they might still be outside.” Rising to her feet, she held out a hand.

It did something to her when her deadly Arrow took her hand without hesitation and allowed her to pull him up to his feet. No smile, because Ethan never smiled, but she felt a whisper of warmth against her wolf’s fur, a caress that came through loud and clear.

Smiling, she leaned into him. “You’ll have to pet my wolf in reality soon. She’s getting impatient.” The wolf lived in her every second of every day even when she wore her human skin, but it needed direct physical contact with its mate.

“I’d be honored to pet your wolf, zolotse moyo.” Ethan nuzzled at her throat as he called her his “gold,” and she knew he wasn’t talking about the precious metal but the light she was to him.

Selenka melted. Her wolf wanted to grip at his throat with its teeth and tumble him playfully to the ground.

But play would have to wait.

For now . . . Reaching into a side pocket of her pants, she pulled out a nutrient bar.

Food was a thing with meaning among wolves, and Selenka watched in satisfied pleasure as Ethan all but inhaled the bar . . . though with a distinctly dubious look on his face. “Not to your taste?”

“It isn’t what I’m used to.” Smoothing out the wrapper, he read the label aloud. “Strawberry yogurt.” A squaring of his shoulders. “Sometimes, the old ways are the best.”

Chuckling, Selenka patted his cheek, his bristly jaw beloved and familiar. “You never know, you might decide you like hazelnut crunch, or mint cream.” The look he gave her had her wolf throwing back its head in a howl of laughter.

Chapter 43

Every frog praises his own pond, Selenushka.

But, Deda, isn’t it sandpipers and their swamp?

Would you rather jump into a pond or a swamp?

Um, a pond?

So why would you send the poor frog to the swamp?

—Conversation between Yevgeni Durev and Selenka Durev (8)

ETHAN AND SELENKA emerged into the crisp air and the smudged charcoal of very early dawn. Sascha and Memory stood together, speaking, while Lucas Hunter had a watchful—and slightly amused—air about him.

Kostya, meanwhile, was scowling at Alexei. “I am not cousin to a pretty California boy with yellow hair.”

“Check your family tree.” Alexei’s scowl was as dark. “It’s unfortunate but true. And at least this California wolf tans. What do you call that color? Curdled milk?”

Growls were exchanged, and it was odd, but Ethan was near certain the two were enjoying the exchange. “Are they playing?” he muttered to Selenka.

“Wolves have strange senses of humor,” she said, her lips twitching.

Memory and Sascha were the ones to approach them, the other three keeping their distance, no doubt sensing Ethan’s mate’s bristling protectiveness. Selenka, Ethan knew, wasn’t in the right frame of mind to allow anyone but submissives and healers near him. Him. Ethan. An Arrow perfectly able to defend himself.

Ethan felt that warmth inside that he thought might be a happy smile.

“You’re okay.” Memory’s smile was wide, her hug unexpected but not unwelcome. Despite how she aggravated the rogue power with her mere presence, she continued to feel familiar on the deepest level.

He hugged her back, feeling protective of her in a way he couldn’t explain.

After they drew apart, he said, “Did you sense the chaos I hear when I drop my shields? It is anarchy in its purest form.”

Memory exchanged a glance with Sascha, seemed to silently pass the baton to the more experienced E. Eyes pure black, Sascha said, “It would be a howl of chaos for you. When you drop your shields, you have no secondary shields to help filter and moderate the input.”

Ethan looked from one to the other, then to Selenka, who stood beside him, her arms folded and her body close enough that she was a line of heat along one side of him. But before he could voice his questions, Sascha said, “Where was the first place you dropped your shields? The first place you felt the howls?”

“While I was in Moscow for an early security meeting. I had a couple of hours open and decided to see what would happen if I permitted the power free.” Looking back, it had been a distinctly stupid thing to do while alone in a Moscow park, but to the man he’d been at the time, his mind distant from the world, it had made perfect sense. “I didn’t realize how clouded my thinking had become.”

“You did that in central Moscow?” Memory’s mouth fell open. “Ethan, it’s a wonder the influx didn’t blow your circuits.”

“I wasn’t that careless,” he clarified. “I only lowered my shields a fraction and slammed them back up the instant I realized what was happening.” Even then, his head had rung, screaming agony inside his skull.

“Was it less intense today?” Sascha’s tone gave nothing away, her eyes filled with stars once more. “Even though you totally lowered your shields?”

“Yes. By a significant margin.” His mate’s primal heat wrapped around him, a wolf’s comfort. “Is it because of the mating bond? Is it leaching off a percentage of the pressure?”

“It’s possible, but the main factor is the number of unshielded, untrained minds in your vicinity.” Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her light coat, Sascha took a moment before she began to speak. “All humans and changelings leak a low level of emotion. Psy are beginning to be the same now that those of our race no longer face punishment for feeling.”

“Why are you speaking to me about emotions?” Ethan could see no correlation between his situation and the fall of Silence.

Memory stepped forward, her face luminous. “Because you’re one of us, Ethan. That power inside you? It’s empathic.”

“Very close to cardinal level.” Sascha’s words were a blur in the buzz of his mind. “If I had to guess I’d say 9.5 or higher on the Gradient.”

Unable to process what they were saying, Ethan looked at his mate. Her eyes were wolf, her gaze holding a scalding anger. Cupping his face in her hands, his mate kissed him with a raw emotion that was an anchor in the chaos. “You’re an empath, Ethan,” she said in the aftermath. “A fucking powerful empath.”