panicked inside him settled.
She hadn’t left him, this J who’d become the fulcrum of his universe.
A quiet sound, so quiet he hardly heard it. Shifting his hold, he pushed midnight strands of hair off her face, keeping his hand on her cheek. “Sophie?”
A hitched breath, eyes fluttering open. They remained drowned in black, endless and mysterious. “Wh—” A gasp, her hand flying up to close over his.
His soul went cold. Driven by primal need, had he made a fatal error? If he had, the shock would plunge her back into unconsciousness . . . or worse. But before he could break contact, she gripped his hand, tight, so tight. And as he watched, the liquid black began to recede from her eyes, until finally, only the violet of her iris, the normal black of her pupil was visible. “Max?”
He tried to catch her gaze, but it kept shifting. “Focus, Sophie. Focus.” Her disorientation worried him, could well be a signal of some kind of brain damage.
All at once her eyes locked to his. “Name’s not Sophie.”
“No? What is it?”
The most minute of pauses. “Sophia Russo.” It almost sounded like relief. “Sophia Russo,” she repeated, “Gradient 8.85 J-Psy, employed by the Justice Corps, temporarily attached to the office of Councilor Nikita Duncan.”
“Good.” Relief washed through him as well. “And who am I?”
“Max Shannon, Enforcement detective, highest clearance rate in New York, natural mental shield, and . . . and hands that touch me.” Her own hand spasmed around his, as if she’d only just become aware of how hard she’d been holding on.
“Shh.” Taking that hand in his, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “You’re okay.” His heart shuddered though he fought to keep his voice calm.
“Max, you can call me Sophie,” she said in a quickness of words, as if afraid he’d take her earlier statement the wrong way.
“I plan to do it for a long time.” He’d lost everything else and survived, but he couldn’t lose her, not his J. It would break him.
Intertwining her fingers with his, she turned her head a little. “Someone else is here. I can hear sounds.”
“Faith NightStar and her mate, Vaughn D’Angelo.”
“Faith, foreseer.” She dropped her gaze to their hands. “What happened?”
Faith and Vaughn walked back in at that moment, with four mugs of coffee in hand. “We were hoping you could tell us,” Faith said, placing two of the mugs on the bedside table.
Sophia looked up but didn’t move off Max’s lap, which told him more about her condition than anything else. Because his Sophie had a quiet reserve about her in public, or when they were around others, one that he’d come to realize was part of her nature, not a product of Silence. She’d never be comfortable with open displays of emotion —but that was fine with Max, because with him, she lowered her guard, gave him her trust.
Breaking their handclasp, he picked up one of the mugs and urged it into her hands. “Drink.”
She took an obedient sip, her eyes not on Faith, but on Vaughn. Max felt a sharp tug of irritation. He recalled hearing that Vaughn wasn’t a leopard, but the male was a cat of some kind. He had the same feline grace that Max had seen in Lucas, in Dorian. And Max had been in the world long enough to know that women were drawn to the cat changelings.
Sophia’s eyes didn’t move off Vaughn even when the cat stretched out his arm on the sofa behind Faith’s head, curving his hand around his mate’s nape in a blatant display—and statement—of his loyalty. It was Faith who broke the odd silence. “If you don’t stop looking at my mate that way, I might have to unsheathe my claws.” Her smile took any sting out of what was clearly a tease.
But Sophia didn’t laugh. Keeping her eyes on Vaughn, she spoke to Faith. “He’s not safe, you know. He could snap your neck with a single move. You should shift away from him.”
Delighted at the reason she’d been staring, Max fought not to laugh. But the look of affront on Vaughn’s face was priceless. Burying his own face in Sophia’s hair to muffle his laugh, he tugged her a little closer, just in case the changeling was annoyed enough to snarl at her. But Faith put a hand on her mate’s thigh, and cardinal eyes gleaming with laughter, nodded at Sophia. “I wouldn’t throw stones. Look where you’re sitting.”
Sophia belatedly seemed to realize her position. Color tinged her cheeks, but she didn’t move.
“Yes.” She cuddled impossibly closer to him. “An attempted hack into my brain.”
CHAPTER 34
Max sucked in a breath, but it was Faith who next spoke. “That should be impossible. I know some F- designation men and women who see only the past, and they work for Justice—their shields are impenetrable. I assume Js are the same.”
“Yes, we are,” Sophia said, giving him the coffee so he could place it on the nightstand. “But the attempt was intense enough to cause near-unbearable pressure on my brain.” Her body trembled just a little, but Max felt it.
Placing her on the bed with all the tenderness he had in him, he swung his legs over the side and said, “We can discuss this more later. Right now, Sophia needs to get some rest.”
“Yes, of course.” Faith stood up at once. Vaughn followed a little more slowly.
Walking them to the door, Max was ready for the DarkRiver sentinel’s final words. “She’s still hooked into the Net, Max. Means she can’t be trusted.”
He felt his hand clench on the door. “So was Faith when you met her if I’m right.”
“Not the same situation, and you know it.” The changeling didn’t sound angry—if anything, there was a gut- deep understanding in his tone. “Faith was watched, but in an isolated setting. Sophia is in the middle of the Justice Corps. There are all kinds of eyes on her.”
And though the sentinel didn’t say it, Max knew the implications—Sophia might already have something in her head, something that
Having changed into a loose T-shirt to sleep in, Sophia returned from the bathroom to find Max waiting by the bed. He looked strong and beautiful . . . and remote, the stunner he held loosely by his side a stark reminder of who he was, what he did.
“Stay with me.” It came out without thought, the heat of his body still imprinted on her skin. “I think I can handle the sensations now.” The invitation took all the courage she had. She bit her lip to quiet the plea that wanted to escape. She didn’t want him to pity her—but oh, how she needed him.
No words but he placed the stunner on the bedside table and ripped off his T-shirt. She clenched her hands on the bottom of her own. Angling his head, he tugged down the comforter and waited for her to get in. As he went to follow, his jeans still on, she had a thought. “Max, what if I’m compromised in some way? You shouldn’t leave a weapon that accessible to me.”
“Safety’s on, release programmed to my active thumbprint,” he said, pulling the comforter over them. “And no offense, Sophie, sweetheart, but you’d make a very bad assassin.”
“I could blow out your mind,” she reminded him.
“Not easily,” he answered. “According to what I’ve picked up over the years, a natural shield means I’d have enough of a warning to go for my weapon, or considering the fact that you’re a little bit of nothing—knock you out cold.” The words made him scowl.
“Good.” Relieved—in spite of the fact that she could see he hated the idea of hurting her—she let him slide an arm under her head, the other going around her waist. That much sensation, that much contact, still burned a hot, wild flame across her skin, but she was, she thought, becoming used to it. With Max it wasn’t an intrusion but a choice on her part. Turning, she placed her hands flat on his chest.
