Ashaya staggered physically back at the same time that Silver slammed down her shields. Christensen caught his mate, his eyes no longer human but a dangerous green that spoke of the large cat that lived under his skin. “Shaya?”
“I’m fine,” the scientist said, though her breathing was erratic, the pulse in her neck rapid. “My ears are ringing. The sound . . . it’s dual layered.”
Shocked or not, Silver realized, Ashaya Aleine was a scientist first and foremost, one who was already analyzing the data she’d gathered.
“The first,” Ashaya added, “is the telepathic noise all Tps hear when their shields are down—and it’s violent because Silver is a pure telepath of incredible strength—but below that is actual sound.”
Amara spoke, her affect curiously flat. “Can’t we simply remove her capacity to hear? It would be a far more efficient exercise than neurosurgery.”
Silver went still. “Will it work?”
“No,” Ashaya said after a thoughtful minute. “You’re not hearing through your auditory canal or any other part of your ear. The input is definitely coming in via a psychic pathway.” She looked at Amara.
Purest quiet reigned for thirty seconds, the two sharing data.
“My twin is correct,” Amara said afterward in the same flat tone.
And so it went.
All the while, she felt Valentin inside her, a huge presence full of an intrinsic wildness wrapped around her like a living shield.
HAVING received a message from Silver that she was on her way home after “having her brain mapped to the last neuron,” Valentin had intended to wait for her at the border to StoneWater lands. He’d planned to see if he could pull off a modified tiny-gangster trick just to make her laugh.
All his plans changed when he felt a painful yank inside him just as night began to fall. That sensation was of a healer reaching out desperately for their alpha’s strength. Not Nova. A younger healer who was nonetheless bonded to his alpha.
Valentin didn’t delay even long enough to send his Starlight a message. He headed straight for the healer in distress. Silver would understand. She was an alpha, too.
“Sergey,” he said, stepping out of the trees in front of the cave system that held those of his clan who’d left him. “Who’s hurt?”
The tall man of his father’s generation, a man who had been first second to Mikhail, folded his arms. “You have no right to be here.” White lines bracketing his mouth, he stood his ground, though he was having difficulty meeting Valentin’s gaze.
While Sergey’s human half had rejected Valentin, the animal knew he was alpha, knew that Sergey shouldn’t be trying to oppose him. But Valentin wasn’t here to win by force. If it had been about that, he could’ve subjugated this group eight months ago, when he’d taken over from Zoya and they’d broken away.
“I don’t have time for a pissing contest.” Valentin was too angry to watch his words—if what he suspected was true, Sergey had let down not just a clanmate but a healer at that. “Someone is badly wounded, and you have only a trainee healer.” That trainee, Artem, had come with the splinter group because Sergey was his father—and because a healer needed to come with them. “Why haven’t you called Nova?”
“Artem is helping him,” Sergey insisted. “There’s no need to further stretch Nova. She’s already been to see us twice in the past week.”
That statement might’ve softened Valentin if not for one thing. “Your son is killing himself for you.” Claws shoved at his fingertips, his bear enraged. “Nova warned me that Artem is already worn down to the bone. I knew you were a stubborn durak but I didn’t think you’d be stubborn enough to put your own child’s life at risk. Now, who the fuck is hurt?”
Sergey went white under the roaring force of Valentin’s dominance. “It’s Jovan.” His shoulders slumped. “He got into a fight with Laine and they both shifted. It went to hell in a heartbeat. Laine is scratched up but otherwise fine—he got Jovan in the gut with his claws.”
Valentin saw the pain on the other man’s face, saw the stress. But he also saw the guilt: the teens were becoming aggressive in the absence of an alpha to calm their bears, and Sergey knew it. They would discuss that later. Right now, Valentin had other priorities. “Take me to them.”
Sergey didn’t argue again, just turned and led Valentin into the cave system. Pinched faces and stark eyes met his when he walked in. A few jerked toward him, held themselves back at the last minute.
Valentin’s bear raged, wounded and angry, but Valentin couldn’t force this. These clanmates had to come to him, had to choose to trust him. He made eye contact with every bear he passed, and he smiled at the cubs—who did run to him, crying “Mishka! Mishka!”
Easily lifting two children into his arms as he went down on one knee so the others could gather around, he kissed them all on the cheek, squeezed them hard one by one, murmured reassurance that they were still clan, still his. He could only stay a minute or two, but that time was necessary.
These cubs were also becoming stressed in a way that made him beyond furious.
Leaving them chattering happily, he stepped into the small cave that was acting as this group’s infirmary. He saw Artem at once; the young male was on his knees beside a comfortable mattress on which an unconscious Jovan had been laid. There was a bed in the room, but the injured boy had been placed on the mattress—which lay directly on the floor—because Sergey and the others obviously knew Artem was too weak to stand for long.
Tamping down his fury with conscious effort of will, Valentin strode to the trainee. “I’m here now, Tyoma.” He put one hand on Artem’s shoulder as he spoke the affectionate nickname, the other on Jovan’s uninjured shoulder. “Take what you need.”
A sob from Artem, tears rolling down his bloodless face. But he was a healer to the bone, swallowed his pain to work on the wounded boy. The primal energy of the clan ran from Valentin to Artem and from Artem to Jovan, changed by healer alchemy to be what the body needed to mend itself. Valentin barely felt the draw, the entire strength of the clan behind him . . . even that of the broken shards.
Because he hadn’t lied to the cubs who played down the corridor: These bears were still his even if they didn’t want to be, their animals reaching out to be part of StoneWater. If there had been a total break, he wouldn’t be able to do this, wouldn’t be able to help Artem heal his clanmate.
His phone vibrated in his pocket about ten minutes later. Ignoring it, he continued to hold contact with both Jovan and Artem. The healer finally stopped working on Jovan a half hour after that, his trembling body collapsing into Valentin.
Wrapping the young male in his arms, Valentin pressed his lips to the boy’s hair.
Over the worn-out healer’s head, he checked on Jovan. His stomach wounds were closed, and he was breathing far easier. “Rest now.” He held Artem against him until the healer’s body grew lax, his breathing even.
Scooping up Artem’s far-too-light form in his arms once the healer was asleep, he laid his clanmate down on the unused bed. He was aware of Sergey and his mate hovering in the doorway, but neither interrupted as he pulled the blanket over their son and made sure he was comfortable. Returning to Jovan’s side, he brushed the hair off the boy’s face, spoke to him, because an alpha’s voice was especially important when a clanmate was wounded.