"They are animals," he said quietly, his respect for his leader steadfast even in this disagreement. "They do not know the depth of the waters in which they play." And the humans? Weak. Defenseless as babies. "We can enter human minds at will, alter the very reality of their existence."

Silence was his only answer, but he felt the peace of knowing he was on the true path. "Our rightful place is as the caretakers of the lesser races, not as aggressors. Ill discipline must be punished, of course, but only to break them of bad habits." Blood need not be spilled when the mind could be taught to fear pain. "In time, they will become what they have always been meant to be-our obedient servants, who know we only want that which is best for them."

Before that state of grace could come to pa.s.s, however, Vasquez first had to redress the current power imbalance in the world. To do that, he had to destroy what had become a defective and decaying ruling structure, giving his race the gift of being able to begin anew.

Humans and changelings had been and would continue to be caught in the crossfire as their betters struggled for dominance, but that couldn't be helped. This was a war for the survival of the Psy race. "Collateral damage," he said, thinking of the operation that was about to put Pure Psy and the need for Silence on everyone's lips from one end of the globe to the other, "is inevitable."

Chapter 28.

HAVING RESTED FOR a few hours after a night that had begun with an exhilarating climb, was shattered by an enemy intruder, and ended in Kaleb's arms, Sahara woke just after two in the afternoon. The first thing she did was call Anthony for an update on her father, to be told he remained in isolation but that the doctors were increasingly confident of his recovery. Kaleb confirmed that status when she touched his mind . . . and it struck her that though Anthony was her blood, it was her dangerous lover she trusted not to lie to her.

Thank you, she said, almost able to see him in the Moscow office where he said he was finalizing a project in spite of the late hour there, a beautiful man in a handmade suit who might as well be a knife blade; a man so complex, she knew she understood only the barest pieces; a man who had survived h.e.l.l as a child and come out of it a shadowy enigma.

He belonged to her in a way she couldn't articulate, the bond between them unbreakable, but Sahara had no illusions about Kaleb. The scars of a lifetime tied to a monster could never be erased-and no one, not even she, could predict the decisions those scars would lead him to make. You need to rest, she said, a painful tenderness inside her. Because no matter what else he was, he was hers first.

Soon.

Black ice in her mind, but that no longer scared her. His icy control was as much a part of Kaleb as the dark possession of his kiss, and Sahara understood the need for it.

The external damage? she asked, pulse racing at the memory of her shock when she'd looked absently out the kitchen window after they'd shared their bodies-to see huge gashes in the landscape as far as the eye could see, as if the earth had been cracked like an egg.

Limited to a five-hundred-meter radius around the house. I fixed the cracks after 'porting you to DarkRiver territory.

Sahara knew she should be worried about the fact that she'd been in bed with a man who'd caused that kind of damage with a momentary and, according to him, minor loss of telekinetic control during intimacy, but she felt her lips kick up at the corners. So we literally made the earth move?

A slight pause, before Kaleb said, I suggest we don't engage in s.e.x in populated areas.

The cool comment made her burst into laughter.

Centered by the short interplay, she ate a small, healthy meal, mindful she couldn't become complacent about her physical health, then climbed down the rope ladder to walk through her new surroundings. Her intent, however, was not to explore, but to utilize the sun-dappled peace to mend the tears in her psyche. As a result, she was soon lost in the vault of tangled memories that held the broken pieces of her.

"You look like you need a cupcake."

Sahara jumped, having heard no footsteps, not even a whisper that someone was in the vicinity.

"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you," said the tall woman with hair of a red more golden than Faith's, the strands pulled back in a tight French braid. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, she did in fact have a pink-frosted cupcake in her hand. "I was going to eat this one, too," the woman confided, "but I've already had three and my hips are starting to groan in protest."

Sahara saw nothing but supple muscle on those hips. "Thank you," she said, taking the unexpected gift. "Are you one of the guards?" The woman's walk identified her as a feline changeling.

"Name's Mercy. DarkRiver sentinel-it's my job to make sure your perimeter remains secure at all times." She put a hand on the slight curve of her abdomen in an absent move, her watchful eyes on the forest around them.

"You're carrying a child," Sahara blurted out, realizing too late it was rude to raise so personal a topic.

"According to your cousin," Mercy said dryly, and with no indication of having taken offense, "I might be carrying half a dozen. Faith refuses to tell me if she saw triplets or quads, and I'm not asking beyond that-not sure either my or my mate's sanity can take it." A grin. "The pupcubs will no doubt kick the knowledge into me when they're ready."

"Pupcubs?"

The other woman laughed. "That's a long story involving a very s.e.xy brown-eyed wolf and far too much hard liquor."

Hesitant but hopeful, Sahara smiled. "I have time." She liked Mercy, and unlike when she'd been a girl, she didn't have to keep her distance from someone she wanted as a friend.

Over the next hour, as they walked through the wild green of the trees, Mercy spoke of her pa.s.sionate courtship with the wolf she clearly adored and who was the father of the "pupcubs" in her womb. Again and again, Sahara's eye fell on the charms Kaleb had given her . . . and she began to dig deeper into the vault for the fragmented story of her own courtship.

IT was fifteen minutes past two in the morning in Moscow when Kaleb lay down to rest. He'd only been asleep twenty minutes when he was woken by a piece of raw data that set off his subconscious alarms. He felt no sense of surprise at opening his eyes to discover that Pure Psy had attacked a university heavily attended by Psy, due to its location in the center of the busy city that was Denver.

The world-cla.s.s campus was famous for its progressive students and faculty. Discussion about current events had to have been rife. And with that many bright minds in one place, no doubt sides had been taken. If Kaleb had to guess, he'd say the majority had decided against Pure Psy-but a minority had disagreed and one or more had no doubt reported the "disloyalty" to the fanatical group.

Pulling on cargo pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and combat boots, he teleported into the chaos, identified the individual in charge of evacuating the collapsed buildings, and made himself-and the Arrows who had 'ported in at his request-known as ready to a.s.sist. For reasons yet unidentified, Pure Psy hadn't used firebombs this time, leaving a much higher chance of survivors.

The short, plump, silver-haired human female running the show didn't blink at their arrival and began to use their skills with a quick-thinking clarity that meant no one attempted to usurp her position. "Quadrant two, at two o'clock," she said when he checked in after helping to stabilize a building that had threatened to collapse on top of injured and immobile survivors. "Equipment's picking up breathing."

A younger man who moved with the fluid grace of a changeling, the university logo on his T-shirt torn but not b.l.o.o.d.y, ran up the section before Kaleb could begin to shift the pieces of old plascrete. "Wait." He held out a hand, his skin tawny brown in the afternoon light. "I can scent them."

Kaleb contained his Tk. While he could sense a number of minds, their pain and panic blanketed the area, making it impossible to pinpoint specific locations.

Moving carefully over the broken section, the changeling nodded at Kaleb, his eyes the amber-green of a large predator, possibly one of the reclusive tigers. "Here."

Kaleb moved the jagged plascrete with care. Trapped underneath was a tall human student who appeared to have a broken clavicle and ankle. Kaleb shook his head when the changeling boy-and he was a boy, not more than nineteen-would've lifted her out. "I've alerted the paramedics. She needs care in case of spinal injuries."

The next live recovery was of a pair of Psy students, both with severe crush injuries. Three more followed. Everyone else was dead-including an older changeling whose lab coat identified her as a professor, and whose eyes the boy closed with trembling fingertips that had become tipped with claws.

"Confirm no further heat signatures!" called the human scientist who'd been scanning the wreckage with specialized radar equipment.

The changeling boy, his face drawn, nodded. "The scents are confused . . . but all I scent nearby is death."

Kaleb scanned for live minds in the immediate vicinity, found none. "It's time to check in, get a new a.s.signment."

Two Psy paramedics ran past right then, heading for the next quadrant, a human doctor already on the scene, a changeling nurse at his elbow. Kaleb hadn't ever seen such cooperation between the three races-and he wasn't the only one who noticed. Journalists from around the world interviewed the rescued who could talk, bystanders who'd survived the initial blast, rescuers benched because of exhaustion, anyone who'd sit still for a few minutes.

Kaleb, you must be exhausted. According to the news reports, you haven't stopped since you arrived.

He was almost expecting the telepathic message. My energy reserves are higher than that of most cardinals. The fact was, he didn't know how long he could go for as an adult, had never been pushed to the point where he'd flatlined.

Have you eaten?

Yes. If his body failed, it wouldn't matter if his psychic reserves remained high. I'm in no danger of overload. How is your father?

Holding strong.

He expected her to retreat as he continued to work, but she stayed with him throughout, the telepathic pathway open but quiet.

No one but Sahara had ever cared enough about him to worry.

It wasn't until almost twenty hours later that Kaleb stopped working. According to the equipment, there were no further signs that anyone had survived, and the changelings had been over the area multiple times with the same results. Because of the number of rescue personnel in the area, Psy telepathic scans weren't as useful, but they'd been done, too.

"No further chance of survivors," was the ruling by the silver-haired female who hadn't taken a break throughout. "Thank you. All of you. Go home now, and rest. It's time for the body recovery teams to take over."

Physically spent in a way he hadn't been for longer than he could remember, Kaleb considered his next move. The cooperation today had come in the aftermath of a terrible tragedy-it would not hold if Pure Psy continued to attack racially mixed targets, particularly if those targets focused on the young.

The majority of people understood the bloodshed stemmed from a radical fringe of the Psy population, but according to the media reports flowing through the PsyNet, a small element was beginning to believe differently: that the Psy were sacrificing some of their own in order to hide their true aim-to kill large numbers of humans and changelings, setting the stage for a worldwide takeover by their race.

If that element reacted to protect their own by violent action against those they considered the enemy, the civil war in the PsyNet could tip over into a true global war. The carnage would result in a broken world, its people demoralized and without hope.

The perfect time for a new emperor to come to power.

Pure Psy VASQUEZ WATCHED THE news feeds with a growing sense of unease. The situation was even worse than he'd believed: Psy journalists were not only praising the skills of and the a.s.sistance provided by the lesser races in the aftermath of the university strike, they were calling it a bright new dawn in interracial cooperation.

If this continued, his people would soon begin to see the animal emotions of the changelings and humans in a positive light, and the traitors in the Net would have another weapon in their fight to topple Silence. That could not be permitted to happen-and Pure Psy's next strike would make certain of it, splintering all hope of cooperation in a miasma of distrust.

The university hit had been nothing, a decoy to distract those who hunted Vasquez and his faithful soldiers. Pure Psy's true message was yet to be heard, would be written in the skies in deadly flame, the omega site going down in the history of the world.

An Arrow was rumored to be sniffing around that site, and it was a concern, but not enough to make Vasquez authorize a premature "go." The fact that a large number of Tks had been tired out by the university operation played a weightier role in his deliberations, but in the end, he decided on patience.

If he detonated now, with the final preparations not quite in place, he risked doing a grave injustice to hundreds of hours of painstaking work. His people deserved to witness the glory of what they could achieve-and in the end, it did not matter if every single Tk in the world responded to the next strike: it could not be stopped, could not be minimized.

"We will," he said to the memory of his lost leader, "arise anew from the ashes of the world."

Chapter 29.

THIRTY MINUTES AFTER the head of the rescue team at the university announced no hope of further survivors, Sahara felt the p.r.i.c.kle at the back of her neck that was Kaleb's presence. He'd showered and changed from the clothing she'd seen on the comm and wore camouflage black pants, his T-shirt an olive green.

Nothing on his face betrayed the exhaustion he had to be feeling, but Sahara had stayed up with him through the brutal hours, wasn't fooled. "You need to be asleep," she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him to her bed. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to waste energy 'porting to me."

When she reached for the bottom of his T-shirt, intending to pull it off so he could sleep more comfortably, strong hands closed over her wrists. "Would you like to sleep with me?"

Sahara went motionless at the cool question. Kaleb Krychek, she knew without asking, trusted no one beside him while he was as vulnerable as he ever became. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm tired, too."

To her frustration, he again used energy he should've been conserving to 'port them to the night-swathed Moscow house, but she didn't argue. He wouldn't be able to lower his guard enough to get real rest anywhere else. Grabbing the T-shirt he stripped off, she removed her own clothing and pulled the soft fabric over her head.

It was still warm from his body, the scent of pine and Kaleb in the weave. Shivering in tactile pleasure, Sahara decided she would always steal his T-shirts. She'd undone her braid and crawled into bed when she spied him leaving the room. "Kaleb?"

"I'll be back after I check the security system."

Unsurprised, she drew the sheet over her. Kaleb's body burned so hot, she'd need nothing else. She was half-asleep when he returned. Coming to the bed, he touched the arch of her cheekbone. "You're on my side of the bed." It was a quiet reprimand.

Sahara smiled, sleepy and content, rolling over to surrender the spot that put him between her and the terrace sliders. "All secure?" she asked, dead certain nothing and no one would ever hurt her with Kaleb in the vicinity.

"Yes." His weight in the bed, but no touch.

The ache for skin-to-skin contact was a dull throb in every cell of her body, but she bit down on her lower lip to stifle the request on the tip of her tongue. Kaleb's power reserves had to be at minimal by now, which meant his shielding capacity- He curved his body behind her own, one arm sliding under her head, the other around her waist, as his thigh pushed between her own.

"Your shields-"

"Intact. I'm only physically tired. My psychic reserves are full."

Impossible, Sahara thought, but sensing his body begin to shut down with the same icy discipline he used in every other aspect of his life bar one, she kept her silence and fell into the soft hush of sleep seconds behind Kaleb.

KALEB woke first, to discover his hand under Sahara's T-shirt, his fingers curved over the warm heaviness of one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Leaving it exactly where it was, the erotic weight a deep pleasure, he quickly scanned the information that had filtered into his mind while he slept; he forwarded two items of business for his aide to handle, while taking note of the increasing disquiet in the Net.

Nothing required his urgent attention.

Slamming down the obsidian shields, he got rid of the sheet, then kicked off his sweatpants to press his nakedness against the lace-covered curves of Sahara's lower body, the T-shirt bunched up at her waist. It made her sigh in her sleep and wiggle closer. Nudging aside the silken black strands at her neck, he pressed his lips to her sensitive throat, abdomen tightening when her thighs squeezed down his.

He had watched videos of people copulating in this position, a.n.a.lyzed the mechanics of it, while seeing no reason to pick it over any other. Now he realized there were two very good reasons-it gave the male free access to the female and near total control of the s.e.xual act.

Kaleb liked control in all things.

"Sahara." A graze of teeth on her neck that made her shiver. "Wake up."

She stretched sinuously against him, body pliant, no fear or surprise in her at their intimate entanglement . . . only an increasing dampness in the lace that pressed against his thigh. "How does this work?" It was a sleepy question, her foot lifting to rub over the back of his calf.

Kaleb rifled through his image files to find one that showed her exactly what he wanted. "Like this."

Sahara whimpered but pulled off the T-shirt in silent acquiescence. Throwing it aside, she brushed her hair off her face, then curled her arm over her shoulder until her fingers brushed his nape, the charms on her bracelet cool against his skin. It left her entire body exposed for him to touch, for him to possess, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s lifted lush and high on her chest for his private viewing. His body rock-hard, he stroked one hand over the sweetly sensitive skin of her thigh before pulling it up and back to hook over his own, his fingers pressing into the delicate flesh.

His other hand he curled gently around her throat.

"Are you ready?" he asked, though he could feel her molten stickiness against his thigh.

"Yes."

"Show me."

"I-how?"

"Use your own fingers."

Color pulsed under her skin.

"No taboos, no rules here," he said, wanting her with him through every step of this erotic exploration. "This is our place, our time." Finally it was their time.

Sahara wet her lips, eyes of midnight blue drenched in pa.s.sion. "Our bed."