The Psy-Changeling Series Books 6-10 (Psy-Changeling, #6-10)

“No . . . not yet,” the doctor echoed as Dev crossed the doorway into Katya’s room.

He found her sitting on the bed dressed in a new pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, having thrown on a heavy gray sweatshirt over the top. Her shoulder-length hair had been plaited into a tight French braid, and there were out-of-the-box-white sneakers on her feet. Her lips lifted in a tentative smile when she saw him. “Hi.”

And that quickly, the metal threatened to retreat, to leave him wide open to the raging protectiveness that slammed into his skin with brutal force. “Where’re your boots, your coat?” he asked, and the words were hard.

“In here.” Smile fading, she patted a khaki-colored duffel with a quietly possessive hand. “Thank you for the clothes. And the other things.”

“Maggie bought them.” He jerked his head toward the door as he reached for her bag. “Come on, you’re leaving this place.”

She tugged the bag away from him. “Where are you going to take me?” The finest thread of steel.

Not that surprised, he dropped his hand. “For now, to my place in Vermont.”

“What about your work?”

He looked into that still-pale face, wondering if the question was simple curiosity or something far more sinister. However, the answer wasn’t exactly a state secret. “I can handle things remotely.” His team was solid, used to working with him regardless of location. “If necessary, I can commute.” Shine had access to several jet-choppers, but Dev preferred to drive most of the time—the trip took less than three hours in a high-speed vehicle, and it gave him time to think free of distractions.

“Why?” Katya’s eyes were crystal clear as they met his, each shard—brown, green, yellow—perfectly defined. “Why not just dump me on someone else?”

“Because I don’t know how big a threat you are,” he answered, and it was a truth. She had no need to know about the complex, unwanted emotions she aroused, the buried memories she unearthed. “You’ll be staying with me until I can figure out what to do with you.”

“You could let me go.” Her fingers curled on top of the duffel.

“Not possible.”

“So I’m a prisoner again.”

The point hit hard, stabbing into the core of honor he’d somehow managed to retain. He wondered if it would still be there after this was all over. “No, you’re the enemy.” This time, he took the duffel without waiting for her agreement.

Katya watched the broad wall of Dev’s retreating back and forced herself to get off the bed. For the first time since she’d woken in this place, she felt not fear, not terror, not worry. Instead, something else burned in her, a hot and sharp and violent thing.

“Move it.” It was a command from the doorway.

That raw new emotion flared so high, she had to fight to find her voice. “Are we going on the train?”

“No. I’ll drive.”

She walked to him, then with him down the corridor, aware he was keeping his stride short to accommodate hers, his big body moving with a grace that told her she’d never be able to move fast enough to escape him. Still, a pulse of excitement bubbled through her, lighting up her mind—the car, she thought, it had to do with the car. If she had the car, she could find— Another black screen, her memory cutting out like a badly tuned comm panel.

Her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms so hard she felt skin break. Relaxing her fingers with effort, she lifted her hand to look at one palm. It was hers, she knew that. Those life lines, they were hers. But there were other lines, thin white lines that crisscrossed skin unbroken except for the bloodred crescents she’d just created. How had she gotten those lines? Head beginning to pound in a dull, heavy beat, she stared, determined to divine the truth, no matter how ugly.

Warm male fingers gripped her hand. Startled, she jerked up her head—to meet Dev’s scowl. “Don’t force it,” he ordered, squeezing her fingers. “Glen said the memories will return when it’s time.”

She didn’t pull her hand from his, in spite of the violent chaos of her emotions. When he touched her, she felt real, a living being instead of a ghost. “I can’t help it. I hate not knowing who I am.”

“Hate—strong word.” He led her through a pair of automatic glass doors. “Emotions come easily to you?”

“Yes.” She swallowed as he paused in front of the elevator. “There’s only so much the mind can take. After that, it splinters.” Taking the lines of conditioning with it.

The elevator doors opened and Dev tugged her inside. She took one step across the threshold before freezing, her breath stuck in her throat, her spine so rigid she literally couldn’t move.