Blaze of Memory

And here, outside the Net? It was likely to be a million times worse. The majority of humans didn’t have anything but the most basic shields. Given their history, the Forgotten were likely to be a fraction more sophisticated, but there would still be any number of leaks, of voices.

Soothing the butterflies in her stomach with the knowledge that she could shut off the open pathways at any instant, she gripped the arms of the armchair and dropped her internal shields.

An instant of pure silence.

WHTIOSKTNIHIGHNSTIONTIJO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her head snapped back against the headrest as her shields slammed shut with brutal force. It took several minutes for her head to stop ringing. Her spine was damp with sweat by the time she reopened her eyes, her hair plastered to her forehead.

“Okay,” she said, “okay.” Calming her racing heartbeat enough that she could force her mind to cooperate took another five long minutes. Finally able to think again, she gripped the chair arms even harder and dropped her internal shields once more—this time, by the merest fraction.

Dev was talking to Cruz about model cars—a hobby the boy remembered enjoying before he’d been placed into state care—when there was a knock on the door. Dev got up. “I’ll have to see what that is. They wouldn’t interrupt unless it was important.”

Tiny lines appeared on Cruz’s forehead. “I can almost hear something.” He shook his head. “It’s gone now. He scared it away.” Making a face, Cruz fluffed his pillow and glared at the doorway.

Eyebrows raised, Dev opened the door and walked out—to find himself toe to toe with Tag. The big telepath had a thunderous look on his face.

Since the other man usually made an extreme effort to appear nonthreatening, Dev’s instincts went on full alert. “What?”

“Close the door.” His voice shook with fury.

“I’ll sit with Cruz.” Walking in, Glen shut the door behind himself.

Dev met Tag’s eyes. “You look like you want to kill someone.”

“That would be you,” Tag muttered succinctly. “I should fucking pound your stubborn head into the ground.”

“You could try.”

“Pretty boy, I could crush you with one fist.” Releasing a huge breath, Tag pointed up. “You’ve got a goddamn powerful telepath up there and you didn’t think to warn me?”

Dev froze. “What’re you talking about? She’s midrange, weaker than—”

“Bullshit,” Tag interrupted. “Your little secret is closer to the very high end of the spectrum.” Tag shook his head, rubbing at the sides of his temples. “I just caught her mind as it brushed mine. Don’t know what she was looking for, but I hope to hell I gave her enough of a scare that she stopped.”

Dev was already moving, anger rising inside him in a scalding wave. A telepath that strong could do a massive amount of damage. Katya could tear apart the shields of the weaker members of Shine, leave his people nothing more than vegetables. And he’d brought her here. He’d kept her safe.

Slamming out with his senses, he touched every drop of metal in the building. As a result, his fury had turned into a cold kind of rage by the time he reached Katya’s suite. Using his abilities to unlock the door before he got to it, he pushed through with every intention of flaying her with his tongue.

That was before he saw her collapsed in an armchair, blood leaking out of her nose.

What had Tag done?

Putting his fingers on the pulse in her neck, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Why, he didn’t know. Her death would’ve made his life considerably simpler. Pushing aside his violent repudiation of the thought, he pulled out his cell and called Tag. “She’s unconscious.”

“She should be,” Tag said. “I sent through a scream along the telepathic line.”

Dev’s hand clenched on the phone. Tag had done the right thing, but damn if he didn’t want to punch the other man in the face for it. God, he was fucking pathetic. This woman had played him from day one, and still he wanted to protect her. “Is she going to come out of it soon?”

“Won’t be long. It’ll teach her a lesson.” Tag’s voice changed. “No telepath should ever leave themselves that open, Dev. She should know that. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve sent in something more than a scream.”

Even with rage an icy inferno inside him, Dev knew why Katya had taken the chance. “I put her in a prison. What would you have done?”

“Probably the same.” Tag took a deep breath. “That doesn’t mean we can afford to feel sorry for her. Your shields are titanium, but she’s strong enough to break the shields of half the people in Shine.”

“I’ll make sure there isn’t a next time.” Closing the phone, he slid it into his pocket before walking into the bathroom and returning with a damp towel. There wasn’t much blood, but he left the stained towel on the little end table as he waited for her to come out of it, an explicit visual reminder of what she’d just chanced.

As he waited, he slid a critical glance over her face. Impossible as it was, it seemed as if she’d dropped several pounds in the short time since he’d last seen her. But that, he thought, rejecting his natural instincts, wasn’t his problem. This time, he wasn’t going to let her use his weakness where vulnerable women were concerned against him. If she wanted to starve herself, he’d let her.

Katya’s head was a pounding bruise, dark and mottled, when she finally managed to open her eyes. Her stomach revolted at almost the same instant, and she pitched forward, feeling her gorge rise.

“Breathe!”

The snapped command cut through everything, chilling her with its utter control. When a glass was pushed under her nose, she took it and rose slowly back up into a sitting position.

“Drink,” Dev ordered, his face ruthless in a way she’d never before seen. “It’ll get your system up and running faster.”

Since she felt like she’d been hit by a truck, she wasn’t going to argue with anything that made her feel better. Bringing the glass to her lips, she drank deep. It tasted slightly sweet, with a strong medicinal aftertaste. Guessing he’d laced the water with vitamins, she finished the entire glass before putting it on the table beside the armchair. “Whose blood is that?” she asked, seeing the damp towel.

“Whose do you think?”

She swallowed and looked at the very dangerous man sitting in the armchair across from her, one foot hooked easily over the opposing knee. It made him no less intimidating. In fact, the sheer calm of him set her pulse to clamoring. He was angry, so angry that her very cells spiked with fear. “Dev,” she began.

“When precisely,” he interrupted, “were you planning to tell me you were a telepath with enough power to conceivably blow out a mind?” Cool tone, flawless enunciation, eyes that tracked her with unflinching focus.

“I didn’t know.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, feeling unaccountably exposed. “I swear to you I didn’t know until just before I decided to go exploring.”

“Exploring?” He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s leave that aside for a minute—exactly how stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t—”

“Stop.” It was a single terse word that cut off her very breath. “The amnesia thing isn’t going to fly anymore.”

Emotion rose in a cresting wave. “It’s the truth. I’m remembering more, but it’s not—”

“I don’t give a shit.” Said in that same scarily calm voice. “All I’m interested in are your orders.”

“I. Don’t. Know.” The swell of emotion was filling her limbs, turning her voice husky. “And it doesn’t matter how many times you ask me—I’m still not going to remember until the memories come back. I might not remember even then, depending on the programming.”

“We’ve been over this—as far as Shine is concerned, you’re a fully functional covert operative.”

Shine.

Not Dev.

“And you?” she asked. “What do you think?”

A cool glance, with a dark edge she’d never before seen. “I think I’ve been made a patsy.” He stood. “But no