Lisette turned her head toward the window, her hair a pale gold in the sunlight. “The last words he spoke to me were about a divorce.” A bleak confession. “I never knew how easy it was to dissolve a marriage.”
The other woman’s despair was a black wave, and Adria knew Lisette’s love for her husband hadn’t died, just been badly bruised. Riaz deserved more, deserved a woman who’d give him everything … but Lisette was his mate. And she was now free.
Adria wasn’t sure how she managed to function the rest of the drive to Lisette’s hotel. Her good-bye was curt enough that the Alliance liaison gave her a concerned look, but Adria was barely keeping it together—she didn’t have enough goodness in her to be gentle with the other woman’s pain. Leaving before Lisette could ask her what was wrong, she drove with single-minded focus to SnowDancer land, parked the vehicle in a heavily wooded section, braced her hands on the steering wheel and screamed … until her sobs robbed her of breath, shattering her to pieces from the inside out, the pain in her chest nothing to the one in her heart.
No matter if Lisette remained in love with her husband, she was Riaz’s mate. Adria would’ve fought for her black wolf with everything in her against any other opponent, but that single fact couldn’t be altered, couldn’t be wished away. It wasn’t coincidence that Lisette found herself wanting to settle in California, her actions colored by a connection she didn’t consciously understand or realize. Riaz had to feel it, too, feel that primal draw that was the greatest gift of a changeling’s life.
But he’d made a promise to Adria, and he wasn’t a man who reneged on his promises.
So she’d have to be the one who broke her own heart.
JUDD walked into the infirmary just after twelve, aware Walker had taken Lara off to lunch. It was easy to skirt Lucy’s attention—the nurse was involved with a young girl who’d come in with broken ribs after tumbling out of a tree, her tearstained face red, though she was making a valiant effort to fight back the sobs. Still, she was only seven.
Fighting the instinctive urge to help, he slipped unseen past Lucy and the pup and into the room occupied by Alice Eldridge. He made sure the door shut with the softest snick at his back before he turned to take in the patient. She lay with her eyes closed, her hands on top of the sheets, her head angled to the side. Though no longer hooked up to a feeding tube, she continued to wear the thin computronic skullcap.
Her chest rose and fell in easy breaths, her lashes dark against the dull brown of her skin. That skin needed the sun, needed to be burnished. Brenna had found some old photos of Alice Eldridge hidden online, including one taken by her rappelling partner as she came down beside him. Her legs had been gently muscled as she braced herself on the wall, her smile brilliant, the unexpected blonde-kissed brunette curls exposed under her helmet shiny with health.
Nothing like the wasted woman in the bed.
Yet her eyes, when they opened and zeroed in on him, were the same. Ebony, so dark the pupil was difficult to distinguish from the iris. He waited for a reaction, and it wasn’t long in coming. “Arrow,” she said. “Former.”
“You remember.” He hadn’t been certain she’d recall anything about their fleeting conversation.
“I thought,” she said, her voice rough with disuse, “you were a dream.”
Walking across the room, Judd grabbed a chair and sat down beside the bed. “Your memories from before?” Lara and the others had become frustratingly closemouthed now that Alice was awake, citing the trust a patient needed to have in her physician. But this woman had incredible knowledge locked inside her mind—knowledge Sienna would need going into the future. Alice was the only authority on X-Psy in the world.
A deep breath, ebony eyes shifting to the right.
Following her gaze, Judd saw the water bottle. He picked it up and held the straw to her lips. She took a sip, two, before halting. Waiting until he’d put the bottle back, she said, “A broken kaleidoscope. Those are my memories.”
“Yet you know what a kaleidoscope is.”
A faint smile on that too-wide mouth. In the photo, her mouth had seemed perfect for her face, her smile huge. But here, her face all jutting bones, the lushness of her lips didn’t fit. “Yes,” she said. “Strange place, the mind. I’ve lost me, but I’ve retained the world.”
Her intelligence was clear, even now, when she was so damaged. It made him wonder who Alice would be if she ever again regained her full self. “Do you know when you are?” A hundred years, more, had passed since the beginning of Alice’s forced sleep.
“Yes.” Such loss in that acknowledgment. “I had parents. I remember them. They’re gone.” Simple words to describe an ineffable truth.
“I’m sorry.” There was something about Alice that made him think “she’s one of us,” though the scientist was human, and from a time long gone. Perhaps it was because she had tried to study the most outcast of all designations.
The sorrow in Alice’s expression was replaced by a quiet knowledge as she watched him. “You wanted to break me,” she said. “Any Arrow would.”
“I needed the knowledge in your mind.”
Alice’s lashes came down, lifted, her chest rising and falling. “Strange how I remember the Arrows.”
“Perhaps we were the last thing you saw.” His historic brethren could well have been the ones who had taken her.A frown, the smooth skin of her forehead wrinkling. “No,” she whispered. “Zaid wouldn’t have allowed them to put me in a box.”
Za-eed.
Alice’s pronunciation of the name, Judd thought, was perfect. It was her acquaintance with it that surprised him. Zaid Adelaja had created the squad, been the first Arrow, a telepath with a ferocious ability in mental combat. “You knew Zaid?” It wasn’t impossible—if Judd was right about the date of Zaid’s death, the other male’s lifetime would’ve intersected with Alice’s.
Her hand fisted on the white sheet. “I think so.”
Shattered memories, he reminded himself, certain she wasn’t healthy enough to lie. “You’ll remember.”
“You sound more certain than the lovely healer with the black curls.” A pause, her fingers rising to touch the computronic skullcap that covered her shaved head. “I had curls. So many colors in there—as if my father’s blond and my mother’s black hair collided in me.” Dropping her hand, she stared at the wall, her gaze distant.
He wondered what she saw, but he kept his peace for now. Force would not make Alice remember, regardless of how important it was that she did. Rising, he returned the chair to its spot against the wall and was about to leave when Alice spoke again.
“All I remember before you,” she whispered, “is sadness, such terrible sadness. It made my heart tear in pain, until the agony took over my world. Zaid … Zaid was there.”
ARRIVING back in the den four hours after she’d dropped off Lisette, Adria might’ve allowed herself a little more room to breathe, hope struggling to find a ray of light in the darkness, but then she saw Riaz walking toward her, and knew time had run out.
Riaz’s smile reached his eyes. “Hello, Empress.”
“Hey you.” Flowing into his arms, she let the strength and heat of him surround her one last time. “Do you have time to talk?”
“A few minutes,” he said, wrapping the long tail of her hair around his hand as he had a way of doing. “I have to head in for a discussion with Hawke about BlackSea.”
“Something come up?” Such an everyday question. Such a quiet intimacy she’d never again experience. The next time they met, it would be as senior soldier and lieutenant, not lovers who had become friends … more.
“No.” His chest rumbled against her. “Just a case of setting up a permanent communications line. We’re thinking Kenji for the liaison, since I have the Alliance.”
A sharp lance of pain, and she thought, perhaps it was better to do this here. If they went behind closed doors and he fought her, she might give in. But out there, with packmates at the far end of the corridor, and the exit not far behind her, she was, in a strange way, protected from her own weakness where he was concerned.
Drawing back until she could look into his face, she said, “I saw Lisette—she told me she’s getting a divorce from her husband.”
No surprise on his face, just the intense determination of a dominant who intended to get his own way. “It doesn’t change this, doesn’t change us.”
“It changes everything.” Her voice a harsh whisper, she stepped back, breaking the connection between them.
He didn’t like that—she saw it in the flash of temper in eyes gone pure wolf.
Breath a jagged blade in her chest, she shook her head. “Don’t tell me you don’t wonder, don’t th—”
“I fucking don’t!” He grabbed her upper arms, held her in place, the raw fury in his voice a wild thing. “I made my choice, and I chose you. Don’t you do this. Don’t you destroy us.”
It was so tempting to give in, but she knew that in spite of what she’d tried to convince herself, the idea of his mate would always be a painful silence between them. Still … she wasn’t that self-sacrificing. She wanted to keep him, and if he wanted to stay, surely it was all right?
Agony seared her blood, her wolf howling in bone-deep sorrow.
And she knew she loved him too much to steal this joy from him. “Go,” she whispered, and it was torn out of her. “Be happy.”
The sound that came out of Riaz’s throat was that of a mortally wounded animal. Gripping her nape, he hauled her against him. “No.” A single brutal word spoken against her ear.
Tears burned in her eyes, choked up her throat. She wanted so desperately to hold on, just hold on, but in her head played the nightmare of waking up one day to find that he hated her, as Martin had hated her. Her former lover had resented her strength, but Riaz would have a far deeper reason to hate her.