At that instant, Noor got away from the woman who’d been playing with her and ran pell-mell toward them. “Jonny!”
Rising in a fluid movement, Jon grabbed her up and swung her around to the accompaniment of her delighted laughter. Katya looked at the child in wonder. Larsen, she remembered as she got to her feet, had never touched Noor, Jon having taken her place, but the little girl had known terror. Today, she wrapped her arms around Jon’s neck and stared at Katya.
Lines formed on her brow. “Who’re you?”
“Noor,” Jon said, “that’s not nice.”
Noor wrinkled up her nose. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“Why do you care?” Jon teased. “You’re going to marry Keenan.”
Noor leaned close, her next words a loud whisper. “But you like Rina.”
Jon went bright red under his golden skin. “This is Katya. She’s our friend.” His eyes met Katya’s as he said that last word, and there was only acceptance in them. “She helped us once.”
After another moment, Noor gave a small nod and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Katya took it with gentle care, very aware of the delicacy of the little girl’s skin, her bones. “Nice to meet you, too. So, tell me about Rina.”
Noor’s smile was as bright as her name.
Five hours later, as the house quieted down after dinner, Katya crushed the part of her that remembered only Dev’s tenderness as he took her into his arms, and instead picked up the gauntlet he’d thrown down that first night. She should have done it yesterday, but Dev had been so busy, the lines of strain around his mouth so deep, she’d hesitated to interrupt him. It would be so easy to keep doing that—find excuses to put it off—but she would never be allowed any freedom until Dev saw the truth of who she was. And she needed that freedom to escape.
The drive to go north was a clawing need in her throat by now, a hunger she had to physically fight to keep herself from taking irrational risks.
Narrowing her telepathic senses to a fine, fine point, she sent a thought to Dev. He couldn’t hear the words, but he’d feel the attempt.
We need to talk.
She snapped back into her mind before Tag could pick up on it.
A curt knock sounded on her door an instant later. “Come in.”
“What was that?” Walking in, Dev closed the door behind himself and leaned back on it, arms folded. Instead of the suit she’d become used to seeing in New York, he was dressed once more in those jeans that made him even more dangerously attractive and a plain white T-shirt.
Itching to touch him, she nonetheless remained on the other side of the room. “A way to get your attention.”
“You got it.”
“It’s time.” She walked to stand at the foot of the bed. “You need to go into my mind.”
A single brutal word. “I told you, that’s not happening.”
“Why?” She stepped closer. “Because it’ll make you feel like a monster?”
He jerked as if he’d been shot. “Yes.”
“Tough,” she said, refusing to buckle under the urge to just give in, to let him have his way. If she did, they’d never move beyond this point. And every time she looked into his eyes, no matter how much he wanted her, she would see distrust. It hurt. So much more than she could have ever imagined. “If I can bear it, you can do it.”
He closed the space between them to glare down at her. “But here’s the thing, Katya. You can’t force me to invade your mind.”
She fisted her hands, squeezing so tight her bones ground together in pain. “If I drop my shields and you don’t come in, allowing me to close them around your entry point, my mind will be wide open to anyone with psychic ability.”
“You think that matters to me?” So hard, so angry.
“Yes, it matters,” she forced out through a throat raw with emotion. “Because you’ve taken responsibility for me. You might have to kill me, but until then, you’ll protect me.”
“Nice and manipulative of you.”
It took everything she had to keep her tone level. “A woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do.”
“Even if it destroys the other party?” A soft question that cut through her defenses with razor sharpness.
Bleeding, she looked up. “Will it truly be that bad for you?”
A harsh bark of laughter. “Haven’t you been able to access the files you have on me?”
“I don’t have those memories.” She held his gaze, suddenly dead certain that if she forced him to do this, it would kill the last fragments of that indefinable “something” between them. There would be no coming back from it. It wouldn’t have mattered to a true Psy, to a person who saw everything as part of a cost-benefit ratio.
But it mattered to her, mattered beyond bearing.
“Okay,” she said, dropping her head even as the pragmatic side of her screamed in rebellion. “Okay.”
Dev felt Katya’s acquiescence like a blow. “Why?”