His torment was a wild creature in his eyes.

Pressing her forehead to his, Memory cupped the side of his face, her first priority to comfort him any way she could. “You think the same thing will happen to you if you mate.”

“Starting with my grandfather, every male in my direct line has gone rogue after mating—my father lasted the longest, nearly ten years, but he was increasingly erratic for at least four of those years.” Alexei’s jaw turned to granite under her touch. “No matter how anyone tries to spin that, they can’t make it add up to any other conclusion.”

Amber eyes locked with hers, nightglow in the private dark of the Jeep. “I’m never going to be able to drop my guard enough to mate. I can’t, not if I want to survive.” Claws slicing back in, he gripped her nape, his next words a rough whisper. “And not if I want to protect the woman who’s mine.”

Memory had a hole inside her, needed to belong in the deepest way to her golden wolf. “Can you love without it being a risk?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” Harsh words, but his hands, they stayed careful on her. “I’m not whole, Memory, not in the way you need.”

Heat in her belly. “You let me decide what I need.” Drawing back, she stabbed a finger into his right pectoral and said, “And I’m not certain I believe in your curse, either.”

“Memory.”

“Did your father spend years learning to be a disciplined SnowDancer soldier, then lieutenant? Did your brother?” It sounded as if, along with loving his mate, Alexei’s beloved older brother had been an adrenaline junkie who liked breaking the rules. “You growl and snarl, but you’re always in control.” Not once had he so much as scratched her with his claws.

“It might not matter in the end—no one knows what pushes a predatory changeling to go rogue,” said her stubborn wolf. “Might just be a switch in my brain that flips.” Moving his hands to her back, he leaned forward so his breath kissed her lips. “When the mating song rises between a man and a woman, it’s the woman who decides whether to accept or not, but it can be blocked on the male end if he wills it hard enough.”

As Memory listened, her gut a knot, he told her how he’d learned about the male ability to block the bond from one of the cats. Tamsyn’s mate had been forced to do it for years because of the age difference between them—Tamsyn had been far too young when they’d first found each other.

“I’ve never heard the mating song,” Alexei said, big, beautiful, and so hurt. “If I ever do, I’ll do everything in my power to block it.”

Memory held his gaze, her own belligerent. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You know.” A growl. “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t.”

Huffing out a breath, Memory fisted her hands in the rough silk of his hair. “You’re mine, Alexei.” She was through with playing by his rules; what lived between them had nothing to do with gratefulness or imprinting. It had to do with Alexei and Memory. If she needed him, he needed her as much.

As for his vow . . .

Memory kissed him hard, shoving the shadows of the curse into the dark.

Chapter 39

Operation Scarab has launched on a wave of success. Results have been so stellar that we request permission to enroll twenty others in the trial. There is little point in wasting resources when Scarab could put those resources back into play within a relatively short period.

—Report prepared for the Psy Council (circa 1999)

THE POWER FLUCTUATIONS Kaleb had been sensing in the PsyNet were becoming dangerous. “It feels personal,” he told Sahara as they walked along the edge of a Venetian canal gilded in sunshine. “Unquestionably power from an individual, not a buildup in the Net.”

Her hand in his and her body clad in a red coat paired with black jeans and ankle boots, Sahara frowned. “No luck tracking it back?”

“No.” Kaleb wasn’t used to such failure. “It’s erratic. By the time I catch the surge, it’s faded at the other end.” A cresting wave that didn’t leave a trail. “I’ve dropped sniffers throughout the Net so I can react faster, but I think the mind behind the power is an intelligent one. They’re deliberately erasing the trail.”

“Are you worried the fluctuations might destabilize already shaky areas of the Net?” At his nod, Sahara chewed on the inside of her cheek. “If it’s someone intelligent enough to wipe their trail, he or she must realize the risk.”

“It’s a paradox.” He came to a stop in front of a Venetian residence newly painted in pale yellow with white trim, and half-submerged in water. “Are my eyes deceiving me or is a mouse watching us from that window?”

Sahara’s face lit up. “You know that’s Kaia’s pet, Hex.” She waved up at the creature. “Come on, Kaia and Bo will be waiting—I’m so glad we were all free to catch up for coffee. Kaia said she’d make a cherry-coconut loaf.”

Kaleb hesitated only for a second, his eyes on the line of her profile. She was his entire reason for existence, for waking up as a man and not a nightmare. And she was determined he would be friends with Bowen Knight. “Here.” He teleported in a small bag he’d left on his desk in Moscow.

“What is it?” She took the brightly colored bag, eyebrows gathered. Two seconds later she began to laugh. “Mouse treats!”

As she tugged him down by the tie to kiss him, Kaleb felt the faint ripple of another power surge in the Net, but it was fading even as his sniffers reported it. If this emergent power didn’t learn to put a yoke on their abilities, they’d cause critical ruptures in the Net.

Kaleb no longer had a choice: he had to ask Aden to unleash the Arrows, intensify the hunt. And hope the target wouldn’t panic.

Chapter 40

Wolves and bears are the worst for being nosy parkers about packmates. Bears take first prize for their sheer stubborn refusal to go away if they think you need help, but wolves win on the coordinated assault front. If a single wolf doesn’t have any luck getting through to a hurting packmate, he’ll go away . . . to come back with ten other wolves. Being pack is being family. And wolves take family seriously.

—Essay by Dr. Gio Lantana in the 2081 Wild Woman Special Edition: “Families, Packs & Clans”

MEMORY HAD HALF-EXPECTED Alexei to retreat after their passionate and painfully honest night in the forest, but he was already in the compound to run the security shift when she opened her curtains the next morning. Buoyant after the time she’d had with him, she didn’t even feel tired despite having caught only a couple of hours of sleep.

Her entire soul glowed with a deep warmth at seeing him again.

She dressed in jeans, a plain white tee, and a thick sweater in a bright blood-orange color that reflected her mood. Polka-dotted socks finished off the look—she’d pull on her sparkly sneakers if she left the cabin.

When she walked out onto her porch, Alexei strode up to her and kissed her as if he had every right. He did. Memory had told him he could have any skin privileges he wanted. The growly wolf had actually ordered her to take whatever she needed from him when it came to touch—she was to never again become touch-starved.

“That’s the only order of yours I’ll ever follow,” she’d told him with a scowl and gotten kissed for her trouble.

If that kiss had been hard and fast, this one was deep and voracious. Her wolf’s possessiveness might as well have been a fluorescent flag. Mine, it said. Try to court her and die.

Another woman might’ve bristled. To Memory, the primal claim was welcome. Alexei might never mate with her—it still hurt to think that—but she’d heard enough from the other changelings to know that it wasn’t usual for him to treat a woman with such open possessiveness.

Riaz, the golden-eyed lieutenant who’d rejected her blueberry cake, had smiled one day and said, “Never seen Lexie court a woman before. Man’s apparently been hoarding his determination for you.”

A redheaded leopard sentinel named Mercy had added another tidbit a couple of days later. “Entire wolf pack’s finding it highly amusing to hassle Lexie over his attempts to feed you.” She’d reached back to tighten her ponytail, her body sleek and tough and pure feline grace in jeans and a fitted forest-green sweater. “You know what they say about wolves and food.”

Memory had thrown up her hands. “Actually I don’t know! No one ever explains what they mean by that!”

A laughing Mercy’d had to leave to continue her patrol route, but that evening, Memory had received a message with a forwarded copy of the October 2078 issue of Wild Woman magazine. Mercy had written: My demon brothers made me a “Wolf Survival Encyclopedia” when I mated my wolf. They printed out the Aunt Rita column from this issue. Check it out.

The column had been eye-opening. Beware of wolves bearing food, indeed.

Smiling, she bit at Alexei’s lower lip. He made a rumbling sound in his chest while stroking her spine all the way down to the lower curves of her body.

Her smile deepened. “You’re in a good mood, Mr. Wolfy.”

“Don’t tell anyone.” A mock scowl before he stepped away, a strong and intelligent male dressed in black cargo pants, an olive green T-shirt, and scuffed black boots. His belt was obviously well loved, the buckle marked by scratches. And his hair, it was gilt under the sunlight.

Afterward, she watched him move about the compound and thought of the scars no one could see inside her golden wolf, the hurt he hid under the grumbles and the scowls. She had to force herself to pay attention when Sascha arrived to continue their work, but she did—nothing in her life could move forward until Renault was neutralized.

At the end, she clenched her abdomen and asked about Jaya’s Arrow.

“Judd was able to help there,” Sascha said. “Medics think Abbot will make a full recovery. Jaya’s putting up a good front, but she’s badly shaken—Ivy’s with her. They’re close.”