BRANDED BY FIRE

The Ghost watched as word spread of the offer of voluntary mild rehabilitation—a process that would strengthen the basis of the conditioning that was Silence. For the first time, going to the Center didn’t mean death, but life … and people were beginning to seriously consider it. Predictably, the idea appealed most strongly to those with the most dangerous abilities.

The Ghost understood. His own ability could be incredibly destructive. But never would he submit to the M-Psy at the Center. Perhaps Silence was a cage that kept the monsters inside, but it was a cage nonetheless. He knew what it was to grow up inside a cage—a cage so tight, so restrictive that he’d almost forgotten how to breathe.

To willingly embrace the silver bars of another prison was not something he’d ever countenance. But he found himself hesitant to step in the path of those who were making the opposite choice. Did he have the right to turn them away from that which might save them? So many were cracking, breaking, shattering. Murders had increased in the past few months, a slow creep that tainted the Net with darkness. Even at that very moment, violence flickered on the edges of his vision.

That violence had always been a part of the Net, but now it was starting to rise to the surface, to grab control. But there was no symmetry to it, no sense of the scales being balanced. These bursts were like mini eruptions, destroying all in their path. Could he blame those who chose the cage of Silence if chaos was the only alternative?

He realized he didn’t have the tools to answer that question.

For the first time, the Ghost, a being of Silence, found he needed answers from someone who understood emotion.





CHAPTER 43





Mercy didn’t like feeling like a bitch. And she didn’t think of herself as one. But she’d been a bitch to Riley today. Pushing him away like that. Telling him the one thing she’d known would make him back off. Predatory male changelings were proud.

And it wasn’t as if he’d done anything to provoke her. He’d been acting exactly who he was, and she’d savaged him for it. “Damn it!” She clenched her hands on the steering wheel, feeling worse with every passing second.

Of course he hadn’t known and hidden the truth from her. Riley wasn’t a liar. He’d never have held back something this important, not when he’d given her his word that he’d try. For her. For a cat who had hurt him so much today.

I guess that’s going to make this mating hell for both of us.

Her leopard didn’t want that. But neither did it want to face the inevitable repercussion of mating with him. However, one thing was certain—Riley would come after her again. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. She was his mate, and given the fever of the mating dance, the depth of his hunger had to be driving him half-insane. So he’d bury his pride and he’d return—probably to shake some sense into her.

Her lips quirked, but she removed her hands from the steering wheel and got out of the car. The SnowDancer den was an easy fifteen-minute run from this point. It was tempting to call and ask him to meet her outside, but that would be cowardly. And Mercy was no coward. Taking a deep breath, and paying no overt attention to the scents that told her she was being watched by an invisible screen of guards, she headed in.

Andrew was waiting for her by the open door. His eyes were twinkling. “Hello, future sister-in-law.”

“Out of my way, shrimp.”

“My heart bleeds.” He put a hand to said heart, melodramatic in the way only younger brothers could be. “Are you the reason Riley almost ripped off my head a few minutes ago?”

“None of your business.” She pushed past him. “Show me the way to his quarters.”

“Shouldn’t you talk to Hawke, make sure it’s alright for you to be up here?”

“Drew, today is really not a good day to mess with me.”

Andrew walked beside her, pointing left when they reached a fork in the tunnels that made up the den. “In that case, rest assured I’ll take care of the formalities.”

“Thanks.” She shot him a suspicious look. “Why are you being so helpful?”

He shrugged. “I like my brother. And I especially like watching him off balance.” An evil grin. “You and he are the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”

“Why hasn’t Riley killed you yet?”

“I keep bouncing back.” A shrug, wide-eyed innocence.

Charmed despite herself, she came to a stop in front of the door he’d led her to. “Now, listen carefully,” she said, leaning close, “if you dare come back here tonight, be prepared to sing soprano the rest of your life. Capisce?”

Andrew’s eyes widened. “Man, you’re scary. Lucky Riley.” And she could tell he meant it, too. “I’m outa here.” But he paused. “Be gentle with him, Mercy. He’s got a heart as big as Texas—he’ll die for you without blinking. But he doesn’t expect anyone to do the same for him.”

Knot in her throat at the unexpected burst of seriousness, she nodded and watched him walk away. Then, straightening her shoulders—and ignoring the large number of wolves who seemed to have something to do in this corridor all of a sudden—she knocked. Riley had to have scented her by now, so the fact that the door had remained closed didn’t bode well.