Tell me—are Arrows trained not to break under sexual torture?
His words had made her blood run cold. Clearly, there was a serious flaw in Arrow training; they weren’t desensitized against that kind of abuse. The reason why it was so different from other kinds of physical pain was something she hadn’t understood until she’d touched Aden last night, until she’d understood what it meant to choose to share her body with a man she trusted inside out.
A violation would be akin to having her innermost shields torn open.
Zaira.
Shifting on her heel at the sound of Aden’s voice in her mind, his telepathic voice as controlled and quietly powerful as his speaking one, she found him walking toward her. For one small secret instant, she allowed herself to remember what it had felt like to touch him, what it had felt like to be with him without fear . . . and when the instant was over, she slammed the door on the memory. If she was going to protect him, keep him safe, it had to be from herself as much as any external threat.
“Do you need me to remain here to supervise the forensic team?” she asked.
He shook his head, his hair gleaming even in the comparatively dull overhead light. “Finn did an excellent job, but I want us both checked out by our medics.”
Conscious she had to return to Venice at full capacity, Zaira agreed, and thanks to Vasic’s teleportation skills, was soon at a specialist Arrow medical facility with Aden. They were examined separately and the M-Psy in charge of her was able to ease some of the residual soreness in her head using his ability. He also ran a battery of tests to check her neural and psychic health after declaring that her abdominal wound had been expertly repaired.
“Treatment complete,” the M-Psy said. “Your body suffered significant trauma and you need twenty-four hours of rest before going back on active duty.” The slender male held Zaira’s gaze. “That’s not a suggestion. It’s an order I’m putting on your file.”
“Understood.” Leaving the treatment room, she found Aden waiting for her outside. “I’ve been told to rest, but I need to return to Venice. Alejandro’s already been sedated for over forty-eight hours, according to the report I’ve just had.” That sedation had been very light, thanks to Ivy staying almost constantly with the damaged male, but Zaira wanted him out of it nonetheless. Many of the others in her care were also damaged, wouldn’t have dealt well with her sudden absence.
Aden curled his hand around her upper arm, a sudden, passionate darkness in his eyes. “I have faith in your will. Fight for us.”
Zaira’s shields began to crumble. Breaking away from him, she shook her head and tried not to hear the screaming need inside her. “Your faith can’t change genetics.” Her instability was part of her DNA itself. “Your faith can’t change the fact that I was born of monsters who were born of monsters. I can’t erase the violence written in my blood. All I can do is cage it.” Caught in that cage was the part of her that had made Aden feel pleasure.
For a single beautiful heartbeat, she had been someone whose touch meant pleasure. Someone who was wanted for a reason that had nothing to do with the fact she was a trained and experienced Arrow.
Thank you . . . For giving me you.
Aden would never know just how much that meant to her.
Those words would make the rest of her existence bearable.
Chapter 29
WORD SPREAD THROUGH the squad like wildfire: Aden and Zaira were back.
Blake told himself there was no cause for concern. As long as he was careful and didn’t act on his urges again too soon, he could continue on exactly as he’d been doing.
The only change was that he’d have a partner, someone with whom he could share his work, someone who would admire his intelligence and cunning and cruelty.
That was what he’d do with his “resting” time—he’d finalize his choice of partner, groom his chosen one for the blood to come.
Chapter 30
THE FIRST THING Aden did after leaving the clinic was to get the implant in the hands of his tech people. He’d attempt to get hold of Ashaya Aleine later, but his next act was to make sure he was “caught” in public having a discussion with Vasic. The photograph hit Net feeds seconds later, putting paid to conspiracy theories about his capture and death, but the fact that those rumors had been leaked in the first place confirmed this wasn’t about him—it was about defanging the squad.
Much as he wanted to take point on tracking their shadowy enemy, he had to assign the overall operation to Axl. As leader of the squad, he had to handle myriad other issues, including the fact that Pax Marshall was apparently attempting to poach young Psy meant for the squad—and in need of the psychic discipline only the squad could provide.
Then, two days after his return, he lost an Arrow.
Edward was one of the oldest of the active Arrows. An hour after his shift, the forty-six-year-old male put a laser pistol to his head and pressed the trigger. The empath to whom he was connected via the Honeycomb felt his sudden, violent, and total separation from the PsyNet. Shocked and heartbroken, she was hospitalized.
“We don’t consciously feel emotions from the people we’re connected to in the Honeycomb,” Ivy told him in the hallway outside the empath’s hospital room, her voice thick. “It’s not that kind of a bond. But we do feel it when people die.”
Aden hadn’t realized that, suddenly understood exactly the burden borne by the Es. “I’m sorry.”
A tight smile. “Most of the time the shock is minimal. It’s part of the rhythm of the Honeycomb—some are born, some die.” Releasing a breath as the two of them walked down the cool blue of the hallway, she said, “The unexpected deaths, though, they hurt. The accidents are bad, but the suicides are the worst.”