“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.
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 healer. 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.
“Wait. Make sure it’s the right one. Has it got ‘epinephrine’ on the side?”
He saw Talin’s eyelids flutter down. Her hand dropped off his wrist. The leopard scrabbled inside his mind, trying to get out, get to her. “Yes!”
“Do it. On her thigh. Clay—I have to warn you, this is a wild guess. It could be the absolute wrong thing, could hurt her.”
“There’s no choice. We don’t do anything, she’ll die.” Using his claws to tear a hole in her sweatpants, he pressed the injector to her skin and pressed the button. The transparent tube cleared of the medicine in a flash. For three of the longest seconds of his life, nothing happened. Then Talin jerked and her eyes flashed open. Another second and her hand reached blindly in his direction.
He gripped it, held on tight. “Breathe, baby. Please, Tally, breathe.
Breathe
.”
Fingers clenching around his, she sucked in a deep breath. Then another.
“Is it working?” Tamsyn asked.
“Yeah,” he whispered, a fucking fist around his heart. “Yeah.”
“I’m coming over to check on her. Keep her warm, give her fluids.”
Clay was barely conscious of closing the phone and putting it on the floor, his gaze locked with Talin’s. It ripped him apart to see the single tear that leaked out of her eye. When he broke his hold on her, she made a small vulnerable sound. “Shh. I need to hold you.” Settling himself with his back against the wall beside her, he pulled her into his lap.
She didn’t complain when he crushed her to him, her head tucked under his chin, his embrace this side of bruising. Neither of them spoke. She breathed, slow and deep, and he just
held her, making wordless sounds of comfort. Finally, one of her fists spread on his chest. It burned, as if she’d branded him. “I can breathe.”
“Good.” It was hard to talk with the leopard fighting to get out.
“What did you give me?”
He wrenched back control as his claws threatened to erupt. “A shot of epi.”
“I’ve become that badly allergic to something?”
He wanted to kiss her, take her, convince himself he hadn’t lost her. “This the first time you’ve had this kind of a reaction?”
She nodded. “It doesn’t make sense. It has to be connected to—”
“Tammy’s coming to check you out,” he interrupted, not ready to talk about that fucking disease after the terror of the past minutes. “We’ll see after that.”