Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“Worried about our new healer, are you?” Vaughn’s voice held no amusement or open interest, but Ivan didn’t make the mistake of assuming that the man had no strong feelings on the point.
“News travels fast,” he said.
“I’m a sentinel. And DarkRiver works as well as it does because we talk to each other.” Folding his arms, he said, “Why do you come here?”
Ivan considered many answers, discarded all of them, settling for a bland, “I like to walk. It falls within my walking route.”
Unexpectedly, Vaughn allowed his obvious lie to pass. Maybe because he didn’t need to know Ivan’s status as a drug user—or not—in order to keep track of him. Though Ivan was certain that Vaughn wasn’t the one who’d been placed to watch him all this time. He was too senior, would handle matters far more important than keeping track of a lone Mercant who’d done nothing threatening to date.
“Growing up as a jaguar in a leopard pack,” Vaughn said, “it was fine.”
That told Ivan nothing. He didn’t know why Vaughn had decided to speak to him, but it wasn’t to share personal information. Then the jaguar surprised him. “Luc says you’re linked to our new packmate. Not quite a mating bond. What’s that all about?”
Ivan stopped himself from shifting on his feet by sheer force of will. “I saved her life once, that’s all. It’ll pass.”
He could feel the jaguar staring at him. But again, Vaughn let it go. And Ivan remembered that cats were stealthy hunters, could wait for a long time in utter motionlessness before they struck.
Vaughn wasn’t letting anything go; he was just biding his time.
Odd, how many similarities he was discovering between them and his own family. Never would he have predicted that he’d find such parallels with a clan of changelings.
“Make sure you don’t forget that healer when you leave.” The sentinel nodded toward Arwen. “They tend to give until there’s nothing left—but you already know that.”
“Why do you call him a healer?” Arwen’s designation wasn’t a public thing; to most of the world, he was a telepath who worked in marketing and communications for businesses connected to the family.
“I can smell it,” was the deadpan response. “Or it might be that he just gave that addict his thousand-dollar sweater.”
Ivan glanced over, swore under his breath. “I can’t leave him alone for a single minute.”
Vaughn slapped him on the back. “And you’re all but mated to another healer.” A glint in the near-gold of his eyes. “Welcome to the rest of your life.”
As the sentinel melted away into the dark, Ivan went to rescue Arwen. “She’ll just pawn it for money for drugs,” he said to his cousin as the two of them walked away.
“At least she’ll be warm until then.”
Sighing, Ivan began to shrug off his jacket so Arwen could throw it on over his thin tee. But Arwen shook his head. “I’m heading home soon as we get to your place. Meeting with other Es.” He turned those uptilted eyes on Ivan.
“What?” Ivan all but grunted.
“I just want to say something. Please listen.” No lightness now, nothing but the power of an empath.
Ivan gave a curt nod.
“I never read people, not on purpose. I did as a kid, though, before I knew how to control my abilities.”
“That’s not a problem.” Ivan knew too well what it was to have psychic abilities he couldn’t control or didn’t understand.
“Please, Ivan. Listen.” Arwen halted on the street.
Echoing him, Ivan turned to face his cousin.
“I don’t know if it’s because of the accidental reads when I was a child,” Arwen said, “or just because I’ve grown up with you, but I’ve always believed you don’t think you deserve to be happy.”
He continued when Ivan didn’t answer. “I know there are things I don’t know about you.” A wry smile. “You’re all so protective, it would be infuriating if I didn’t love you so much. I’m not a glass vase, you know—I won’t break under hard pressure.”
Shaking his head, he waved away the exasperated complaint. “But no matter what I do or don’t know, I’m very certain of what I feel from you now—an ember of happiness.” Open, unshielded eyes that shone with love unhidden and offered without expectation. “Don’t throw that away.” A whispered plea. “You deserve joy, Ivan. Hold on to her, on to the spark of joy inside your heart.”
IVAN still hadn’t processed Arwen’s words by the time he walked into his apartment alone, Genara having been waiting for Arwen when they arrived. It was just as well that—her friendship with Arwen aside, the telekinetic was about as sociable as Ivan—she’d made no effort to prolong the evening.
Arwen, meanwhile, had simply looked at Ivan, his hope a silent but potent thing.
Strange, how such a gentle being could have so much steel to him when it came to the people he cared about. Then again, he was Ena Mercant’s grandson.