Nalini Singh: Branded by Fire

“This is nice,” she said, leaning into Riley’s side as they stood with their backs against a large tree trunk. “Both our packs here.”

“And everyone behaving.” He nodded at the two groups of juveniles, one on either side of the Pack Circle. That the event was being held here was another step into trust. Changelings guarded their Pack Circles zealously. During Dorian’s mating ceremony, certain wolves had been invited down, but it had been a limited number.

But with Riley and Mercy’s mating, Lucas had decided it was time to extend the hand of friendship. Hawke had snarled, but he’d taken it. There was going to be another joint party up in the SnowDancer circle a month from now. However, the SnowDancer alpha had only made a fleeting appearance at this party—Mercy had a good inkling why.

“Hey, as long as they don’t claw into each other,” she said, putting the issue from her mind, “I don’t care how much they glare.”

“Poor Sascha,” Riley said, a laugh in his voice. “She can’t find a minute to herself.”

Mercy glanced over to see Sascha being offered food, drink, a blanket, suggestions for baby names, and God knows what else. Changelings adored children, but their fertility rate wasn’t as high as that of humans or Psy. As a result, any birth was cherished. And any pregnant woman was cosseted, petted, and generally driven out of her mind by the others in the pack—male and female.

As Mercy stood there, amused by the knowledge that Lucas would most certainly be getting a strip torn off his hide later tonight, she glimpsed Kit slipping off into the forest. That wasn’t unusual. He was a twenty-year-old male, after all—a gorgeous one. What was unusual was the girl holding his hand. Sienna Lauren.

Oh, shit.

Mercy was about to go after the two—if only to stop an interpack incident, when Riley said, “Look at her.”

She followed his gaze to find Brenna laughing up at Judd, her golden presence a stark contrast to her mate’s quiet intensity—but no matter what he looked like, there was no doubting the bond between the two. “They’re good together.”

Riley hugged her to his side. “Yeah, they are.” And for the first time, there were no shadows in his eyes when he looked at his sister. It was, Mercy thought, an excellent start. “God,” he continued, “I can’t believe I used to play horsie for her when she was a little bit.” He shook his head. “What games did you play with your brothers?”

“I considered Bas my own personal doll. I used to dress him up in sentinel gear and take him on raids.”

Riley laughed and it was such a rich, open sound that her leopard was enchanted. “Dance?” she asked.

He looked down at his cast. “If you don’t mind staying in one place.”

“If that’s pasted up next to you, sounds about perfect to me.”

Riley proved adept at balance. And fully capable and willing to hold on to his mate when the going got shaky.

Later that same night, tired but unable to sleep, Sascha went to the safe and took out the Eldridge book.

“Sascha?” Lucas called out. “Come pet me.”

“Only if you pet me, too.”

The response was quick-fast. “Deal.”

Smiling through her trepidation, she walked into the bedroom and lay back against her mate’s seated form. “Before we do that, I think it’s time we read this.” Because this wasn’t about her anymore. It was about her baby, too, a child who might be born with his or her mother’s gifts.

Lucas ran a hand through her hair and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Taking a deep breath, she flipped to the first page of text.

Introduction

The E-Psy, or empaths, as they are called in the vernacular, are something of a peculiarity. The powerful among them can heal the most devastating of emotional wounds. Folklore says they can cure insanity. That has never been proven. What has been proven is that they can certainly help people through difficult emotional times, absorbing negative emotion in a way that defies even psychic explanation.

During the course of my research for this thesis, I was privileged to interview one hundred E-Psy in the greater New York region, of which three were cardinals, twenty were high-range (Gradients 6.5-9.9), thirty-seven were midrange (Gradients 4.0-6.4), and forty were low-range (Gradients 0.1-3.9).

“Lucas, that’s a lot of E-Psy in one location. If she got that many for a thesis project . . .”

“Means there were a lot more around in the Net.”

Sascha nodded. “Backs up what Faith told us—the NetMind is hiding so many others.” Snuggling against him, she continued reading . . . and found Alice Eldridge’s thoughts mirroring her own.

E-Psy have never been rare, but not much is known about them, perhaps because we study that which we are afraid of. And no one is afraid of the empaths. After having near-constant contact with them for close to twelve months, I feel it is safe to draw the following conclusion: E-Psy are some of the warmest, most welcoming people on the planet. They are quite delightful companions and are rarely seen alone.

However, it is this very warmth and generosity of spirit that makes the other aspect, or in some cases, expression, of their ability troubling to many. It is the ethical dilemma which disquiets them the most and one I will be focusing on in the second half of this book.

Sascha broke off to look at Lucas. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me nothing can ever be black or white?”

She thought about it. “Shades of gray.” She nodded. “If I was utterly good, I’d never understand badness.”

“On to the next page?”

“Oh, yes.”

Riley didn’t say a word for several minutes when Mercy mentioned the Kit-Sienna thing sometime in the wee hours of the morning. “That,” he murmured at last, “could be a problem.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“We can’t do anything about it—they’re adults.” He ran his hand down her back. “But we can keep an eye on all the players.”

“Agreed.” A laugh bubbled out of her. “Look at us, in bed and talking Pack business.”

A pause. Then, “You make my heart beat, Mercy.”

Her heart jumped into his hands all over again. He was so damn calm and he made those statements as if they were facts of life. “Riley.”

Kisses on her cheek, along her jaw. “So, how many brat-lets do you want?”

“As many as it takes to drive you insane.” Her throat was husky with emotion.

“Then one redheaded little girl should do it.”

“I love you.” Beyond the mating bond, beyond the sensual draw, she quite simply loved Riley. “More every single day.” And she didn’t care how sappy that sounded.

A slow, perfect Riley smile. Just for her.