Courting her the first time around wasn’t exactly easy, he reminded himself.
He was an alpha bear.
He had balls big enough to handle rejection.
Even as he grinned, even as his bear postured inside him, his heart ached. Because he, more than anyone, knew that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.
Sometimes, people changed so deeply that the change broke love itself.
PART 2
The Human Alpha
BO WAS RUNNING late for the early morning meeting with Krychek. The Psy telekinetic had messaged him only minutes earlier to ask if they could talk at a nearby building where he had another meeting; he’d asked Bo to bring Lily along, as he wanted to discuss a forthcoming Ruling Coalition media announcement.
Bo had tried to call him to see if they could reschedule for a little later in the day, but it had gone straight to voice mail. Given the importance of what Krychek probably wanted to discuss, he’d sent through a message that he was on his way. Halfway there, he got a confirmation message from the telekinetic: In meeting. Will be done by the time you arrive. I appreciate your time.
Odd that Krychek hadn’t just teleported to him, but perhaps the other man was trying to be extra polite. Bo snorted. Yeah, right. Likely Krychek was trying to tread softly in an effort to keep Bowen and the humans of the Alliance talking.
Sliding away his paper-thin but highly resilient phone that had survived water, fire, small children, and dogs, he smiled at spotting his sister. Lily had been meant to come in late to the office today, had been in the opposite part of the city from him, so they’d agreed to meet midway.
She was standing on the bridge where they’d arranged to connect, but instead of her usual serene sweetness, she was leaning over the side of the bridge and having an enthusiastic conversation with the gondolier below. The two had to shout to be heard over the music of a busker on this side of the canal, so he could hear her voice, though not what she was saying.
Whatever it was, it had her laughing before she waved good-bye to the gondolier; the man poled away to pick up a couple of excited tourists. “Flirting with Piero?” he teased on reaching her. “What will your tattooed doctor say?”
“Ha ha. You know Piero’s wife would brain me with her hockey stick if I dared make eyes at him.” Stepping forward, she hugged Bo.
He squeezed her back. They weren’t talking about the degrading chip in his brain, the one that was likely to lead to his death in a matter of weeks, but that bleak reality was there every time he looked into his sister’s face. As was his own knowledge that Lily’s death would follow his if they didn’t find a solution. She’d been implanted after him but was now well outside the safe removal period.
Their parents didn’t know—that was something the two of them had to decide soon. Whether to warn them . . . or to let them enjoy this time with Bo and Lily without that dark shadow hanging over every moment.
“Have you eaten?” He flicked her hair back from her face after they broke the embrace. “Your favorite bakers have just put out a fresh batch of pastries.” The place was a few minutes’ walk from the other side of the bridge, on their way to the meeting with Krychek.
“Are you Psy now?” She poked at his abdomen. “How can you have seen that on the walk from the office?”
“Social media,” he said with a straight face. “They post a picture every time a fresh batch comes out of the oven.”
Her lips twitched. “Who told you?”
“Niall.” He grinned. “He passed me as I was walking here. He was stuffing his face with a hot-from-the-oven croissant at the time.”
“Done. Let’s go.” Turning on her heel, she began to stride away, her black coat sleek and her feet clad in little red boots. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” She threw him a laughing look over her shoulder . . . and that was when he saw it.
The red dot centered on her forehead.
Ice crashed through his system, but Bo didn’t freeze. He ran. “Get down!” The words were barely out of his mouth when he slammed into his sister, intending to take her to the ground.
They didn’t make it.
The bullet hit his back, smashing through his body in a blast of searing pain that seemed everywhere at once; the momentum crashed them through the old bridge wall and into the canal below. He took Lily with him, her body held tight in his arms. She’d be safer in the water, where she could use the light and shadows to disorient the shooter.
The water closed over their heads, bubbles everywhere.
He kicked up, released her. He didn’t think the bullet had gone through his flesh to hers, but he searched for damage nonetheless. “You hit?” he asked, finding it a little hard to breathe.
Shaking her head, Lily gasped for air. “How did you know?”
“I saw—” Bo began when his heart gave a jerking thud and the world blurred.
Lily screamed at the same moment. “Bo!” He felt his body sliding down into the water, felt Lily clutch at him to keep him afloat. Other hands joined hers soon after, hauling him up, but he couldn’t speak, his vision nearly all black.
“Bo! Hold on! Help is coming!” Desperate hands searching for the cause of the pain shredding his flesh.
In the back of his mind, a mind that had a deep knowledge of weapons, Bo knew the bullet had been designed to fragment inside the body, causing maximum damage. “Lily.” It was nearly soundless but she heard.
“I’m here, Bo.” Her voice shook. “Just hold on.”
“My brain,” he managed to say. “Use it.”
His vision collapsed. He felt his heart give one more beat.
Then . . . nothing.
Chapter 41
Hope, you audacious beast, you dancing moonbeam, you loyal canine, I miss you.
A WEEK AFTER her release from the hospital—a full month following the operation—Silver knew intellectually that she’d lost a part of herself both she and others had valued, but she didn’t experience any sense of loss. She felt nothing even when she went through memories tagged as powerful by her previous self, the concept of emotions just that: a concept. Foreign, difficult to grasp.
Her mind was cool clarity, devoid of anything extraneous. At least when she was awake. It was only when she was asleep that things went awry.
She dreamed.
She’d always dreamed, even in Silence. Arwen’s impact. The truly Silent didn’t dream. Or that was what the populace had always been told. If that were true, Silver shouldn’t be dreaming. It wasn’t as if she had any intention of willing the biofusion filaments to create a new, safe pathway to her emotional core. Silver saw no reason to feel when she was so much more efficient in her current state.
Her decisions during her emotional period were difficult for her to comprehend.
Why, for example, had she found the bear alpha so intriguing? Genetically, he wasn’t a male she should consider for reproductive purposes—the children were unlikely to be high-Gradient Psy . . . though they would also have the ability to shift. Having a Psy-changeling child would be to her advantage as someone who worked with the other races, but it wasn’t a big enough advantage for her to attach herself to a bear clan for life.
Look at how laissez-faire the bears were in how they lived life. It simply did not mesh with her measured, calculated approach. She found it impossible to understand why she’d been happy living in an enormous cave system. Happiness itself, of course, was a concept she no longer understood. She had the words for it, but not the internal comprehension she’d once had. It was a lack she was willing to live with given the myriad advantages.