Mine to Possess

The latter finding was probably why the Council hadn’t gone about eliminating the bearers of such shields. That and the fact that regardless of what the Psy did or didn’t do, these particular shields would always occur in a certain percentage of the human population. “The shields,” she continued, keeping her tone very gentle, “are so strong, you must’ve begun constructing them during childhood.”

“Why-” Talin froze.

Sascha could no more ignore the waves of emotion coming off her than she could stop breathing. Being an E-Psy meant she had the capacity to sense and neutralize hurtful emotion. It also meant she couldn’t just stand by when someone was in that much pain. Now she gathered up Talin’s self-hatred, revulsion, and anger-such incredible anger-in her psychic arms and absorbed it inside of herself. She had the gift to turn those destructive emotions harmless, but it hurt.

A few seconds later, Talin gave her a startled look. “What are you?” Not an accusation but the kind of innocent question a child might ask.

It surprised Sascha, given what she suspected this woman had endured. “An empath.” She explained what that meant. “I’m sorry if I intruded-I forget to ask sometimes.” The gift was too powerful, too instinctive.

“What a pure gift.” Talin’s face filled with something close to wonder. “Does that mean you’ll never be evil?”

“I’m as vulnerable to negative emotions as anyone,” Sascha admitted, “but the empathy won’t let them fester inside me.”

“Like I have?” Talin’s gaze was direct. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

Sascha felt a moment’s disorientation at the blunt clarity of that question. A sense of shame followed-after everything she had learned in the past year, it was criminal that she’d automatically equated human with weak. Talin was nothing if not strong. “It’s not a case of disliking you. I don’t know you-how can I judge you?”

“But?” Talin pushed, holding her body in a way that reminded Sascha of the vulnerable pride of the young males in the pack. However, Talin was no child-her emotions were too aged, too flavored with time.

“Clay is one of mine.” Even Sascha was surprised at the depth of protectiveness in her tone, an echo of what she so often heard in Lucas’s voice when he spoke of Pack. “He’s been choosing to walk alone more and more, and it worries me. I was hoping his growing friendship with Faith would change things, bring him back to us.”

Talin swallowed, at once resentful of Sascha’s right to care about Clay and almost violently glad that he had friends who loved him with such fierce determination. “But now I’m pulling him under.”

“Clay leads, rarely follows.” The cardinal’s words were light, her eyes solemn. “But whatever you are to him, whatever demons you waken, they’re already blackening his emotions.”

Talin wanted to defend herself but knew Sascha was right-the things she brought with her were the very things Clay had left in the past. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Sascha’s gaze was piercing.

Talin felt her jaw tighten. “Don’t spy on my emotions.”

“I don’t have to.” The other woman tilted her head a fraction to the side. “You should see the way you watch him. Such hunger, Talin.”

Color threatened to fill her cheeks. “Whatever is between us is our business. You have no right to interfere.”

Instead of being furious, Sascha smiled, a smile filled with withheld laughter. “Pack is One. Pack is family. Interference is a fact of life. Get used to it.”

Talin’s anger flatlined into a column of pure guilt. “I really am sorry,” she said, shoulders slumping. “I should have stayed away.” Clay had made it. She hadn’t. End of story. “I had no right to come back into his life.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” was the enigmatic response. “But, Talin, those shields of yours? They’re the kinds of shields traumatized children develop.”

Talin took a physical step back from that gentle, so gentle, voice. It was a voice that made her want to cry and scream and trust. “Don’t try to manipulate me.”

“I’m not.” There was only truth in those eerie night-sky eyes. “I’m a mind-healer. If you ever decide you deserve to be forgiven for whatever it is you think you’ve done, I’ll be there for you.”

“It’s no use,” she said, tone flat. “I’m dying.” Time ran faster with every second.

The cardinal shook her head in quiet reproof. “Some wounds should be healed, no matter how much time has passed or how much time is left.”

Talin stared at the floor, barely able to see through the swirling darkness of memory, pain, and a savage need that threatened to destroy her world. “After,” she whispered, not knowing why she made even that concession. “After.” After they found Jon. “Maybe.”

Clay followed Lucas enough of a distance that the women had privacy, but the lair remained in their line of sight. “Thanks for coming so quickly.” He’d made the call after sending Talin upstairs when they had first arrived home.

“You would’ve done the same.” Lucas took a seat on the forest floor, bracing his back against a nearby tree trunk.