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BLAZE OF MEMORY
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / November 2009
Copyright ? 2009 by Nalini Singh.
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eISBN : 978-1-101-14911-9
BERKLEY? SENSATION
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To Anu fua, for loving books . . . and for loving my books!
DEATH
Death followed the Forgotten like a scourge. Relentless. Without pity.
They’d sought to find hope when they dropped from the PsyNet, wanting only to build a new life away from the cold choices of their brethren. But the Psy in the Net, their hearts iced over with the emotionless chill of Silence, refused to let the dissidents go in peace—for the Forgotten, with their hopes and dreams of a better life, were a roadblock to the Psy goal of absolute power.
Among their numbers the defectors counted a large contingent of telepaths and medical specialists, men and women gifted in psychometry, foresight, and so much more. These powerful individuals, these rebels, stood as the only real psychic threat to the increasingly omnipotent Psy Council.
So the Council cut them down.
One by one.
Family by family.
Father. Mother. Child.
Again and again and again.
Until the Forgotten had to run, to hide.
In time, memories were lost, truths were concealed, and the Forgotten almost ceased to exist.
But old secrets cannot be kept forever. Now, in the final months of the year 2080, the dust is rising, light is shining through, and the Forgotten stand at a crossroads. To fight is to face death once more, perhaps the total annihilation of their kind. But to run . . . is that not also a kind of annihilation?
CHAPTER 1
She opened her eyes and for a second, it felt as if the world shifted. Those eyes, the ones looking back at her, they were brown, but it was a brown unlike any she’d ever seen. There was gold in there. Flecks of amber. And bronze. So many colors.
“She’s awake.”
That voice, she remembered that voice.
“Shh. I’ve got you.”
She swallowed, tried to find her own voice.
A raw hiss of air. Soundless. Without form.
The man with the brown eyes slipped a hand under her head and tilted it up as he put something to her lips.
Cold.
Ice.
She parted her lips, working desperately to melt the ice chips in her mouth. Her throat grew wet but it wasn’t enough. She needed water. Again, she attempted to speak. She couldn’t even hear herself, but he did.
“Sit up.”
It was like trying to swim through the most viscous of fluids—her bones were jelly, her muscles useless.
“Hold on.” He all but lifted her into a sitting position on the bed. Her heart thudded in her chest, a fluttering trapped bird.
Beat-beat.
Beat-beat.
Beat-beat.
Warm hands on her face, turning her head. His face shimmered into view, then twisted impossibly sideways.
“I don’t think the drugs are fully out of her system.” His voice was deep, reached deep, right into her beating, fluttering heart. “Have you got—thanks.” He raised something.
A cup.
Water.
She gripped his wrist, her fingers almost sliding off the vivid masculine heat of his skin.
He continued to hold the cup out of reach. “Slow. Understood?” It was less a question than an order—in a voice that said he was used to being obeyed.
She nodded and let him bring something to her lips. A straw.
Her hand tightened on him, she was so thirsty.