Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

She wasn’t surprised to see Aden heading out of the laboratory hidden in one wing of the compound. “Pathologist find anything definitive?”

“No signs of a struggle, no mind-control lesions on the brain. Tox screen is pending but he’s certain it’ll confirm Halcyon—the body shows all the outward signs of long-term use.” He walked into the courtyard with her to wait for the second target to be brought in. “If Blake is working against us, he’s renounced his status as an Arrow.”

Zaira knew how much loyalty meant to Aden, how seriously he took it, so she could guess his reaction to any betrayal. “Blake fit Ming’s regime. Yours asks too much of a man who’s only ever cared for his own skin.”

Aden glanced at her. “Did he hurt you?” Ice-cold words.

She shook her head. “The look in his eyes reminds me of the look in my parents’ eyes.” Psychopathic and self-involved, not an ounce of empathy. “I want him to be a traitor so I can kill him.”

“That’s why we have to have proof.”

Zaira nodded reluctantly, knowing Blake wasn’t the only Arrow with a problematic past and personality. To go after him without proof would splinter the trust that held the squad together. “This conspiracy,” she said, leaning against the wall, vines growing up the weathered plascrete on either side. “Why target one of the most lethal groups in the world? What is the payoff in having the squad out for vengeance?”

“I don’t have an answer yet.” Aden leaned beside her, his own arms folded. “We might get some indication when the BlackSea alpha arrives.”

As she listened to what he knew so far, she was hyperconscious of the fact that his arm was touching her shoulder, that his uniform pants and plain black tee showcased the muscular strength of his body, that he smelled good enough to lick.

Pushing off the wall without warning, she walked around the corner and into a small alcove hidden from the world by a heavy mass of overhanging vines as well as its position tucked in between two buildings.

“Zaira.” Aden followed her. “What—”

Slamming him against the wall, she pressed her lips to the strong, powerful beat of the pulse in his neck. Since she was already falling into the abyss, her control shredded, why deny herself the pleasure that was the flip side of the nightmare memories she could no longer stifle?

He shuddered, one hand sliding up to curve over the back of her neck. And then their mouths were meeting and it was wild and undisciplined, wet and hot, and she stopped thinking, the rage in her drugged into a haze of want focused on this beautiful man whose hunger for her seemed as feral as hers for him.

Sir, we’re almost at the compound.

She dug her nails into Aden’s shoulders, the raw need inside her threatening to turn her blind and deaf to all other concerns. “The woman is about to arrive,” she rasped out, giving a telepathic order at the same time. Take her to room 7A.

Twisting her so that she ended up with her back against the wall as the last words left her mouth, Aden kissed her again, his hard body pressed to her own and his hair tumbled from her fingers. One hand came up to cradle her jaw as he ran his tongue over her lips and took and took until she couldn’t breathe, and that was absolutely fine because he was doing things to her that made pleasure singe her nerve endings.

Sir, the target is in place in room 7A.

The rage that wasn’t rage with Aden went to shove aside that interruption, but her Arrow training kicked in at the last instant. I’ll be there soon, she replied and forced herself to break the kiss. Aden.

Chest rising and falling in harsh breaths and pupils dilated, Aden watched her mouth as if he’d devour her all over again.

Zaira was fine with being devoured. Fine. “I’m meant to be the out-of-control one,” she whispered.

He shot her a look that made her burn, made her realize just how much he kept contained beneath his calm, stable skin. It felt as if he’d shown her a secret, shown her a small madness within himself. She couldn’t stop herself. She pressed close, claimed another kiss, was claimed, that strong hand on her jaw and his body crushing her to the wall.

And Zaira realized that some prisons could equal pleasure, not pain.

•   •   •

WHEN they entered room 7A, it was to discover Olivia Coletti was neither blindfolded nor gagged, but she wasn’t struggling, her dark blonde hair hanging limp on either side of her badly scarred face as she sat motionless in a chair. Her dazed brown eyes and the yellowish tinge to her otherwise pale skin tone—pale to the point of translucence—explained her lax state.

“Halcyon,” Zaira said, knowing this woman would give them nothing. She was too zoned out. First they’d have to dry her out. Though chances of intel were low even after she was sober—Halcyon also had one major side effect: it affected long-term memory.

She did make an attempt, got nothing except for one single word.

“Persephone,” Olivia said, her eyes staring out into nothing. “Persephone.”

The tone of Olivia’s voice disturbed Zaira. The child may be a hostage, she said to Aden. Even if not, her situation can’t be good. If the little girl was even alive.

Aden nodded. We’ll get Olivia into detox, but I’ll grant access to the BlackSea alpha when she arrives—depending on Olivia’s place in changeling hierarchy, she may feel compelled to answer her alpha’s questions.

Look at the scars on her face. To Zaira, they looked like healed cuts. If those aren’t from a previous injury, then it might not only be Halcyon that’s keeping her silent.