Max didn’t ask about Faith’s contact, taking it as a given that that contact would soon be dead if it became known he or she was sharing information outside the Net. “Do we need to get her to a hospital?”
The foreseer’s endless eyes met his. “No. She’ll wake up soon.”
A simple, absolute answer, and yet . . . “What aren’t you telling me?”
“There’ll be time after she wakes.” Faith looked up at her mate as he came to stand beside her, his fingers playing through her hair. “Coffee?” she asked.
Vaughn’s smile was indulgent. “Addict.”
“Your fault.” The foreseer’s expression was somber, belying her light words. “We’ll need to talk once she wakes.”
Smile fading into an expression of intense tenderness, Vaughn untangled his fingers from his mate’s hair and went to exit the room. “Come on, Max. You can’t do anything here.”
“I’ll stay.” No way in hell was he leaving his Sophie alone.
Faith seemed to struggle with something as she rose to her feet. But in the end, she followed Vaughn out in silence.
Faith walked straight to where Vaughn was measuring out coffee grounds. “Hey.” Putting an arm around her, he hugged her to the solid strength of his side. “The answer’s no.”
She rubbed her face against his chest as he turned to embrace her fully, loving the scent of him. “How did you know what I was going to ask?”
“We have been mated over a year. Give the cat a little credit.” A teasing kiss from her jaguar, his hand curving around her throat in gentle possession.
“You said it yourself, Faith.” A quiet reminder, the jaguar looking out of his eyes. “The future isn’t fixed. It wasn’t for Dorian.”
“Yes.” She’d seen the sentinel’s future blacked out, had thought it meant death, but he’d survived. “It’s different this time, Vaughn.”
“How?”
“I saw bits and pieces of reality—the fact that Sophia would need us for some reason tonight, other events that may or may not happen, but I felt this gathering wave. I can’t describe it, but I know something huge is about to happen, and it’s centered around Sophia Russo.”
“You’re talking about more than the life of one person . . . two people,” he added, and she knew he’d seen the way Max looked at Sophia. So had she.
Her foreseer’s heart hurt for them, for the future they didn’t have. “I’ve never felt anything like this, but from the research I’ve been doing”—using the records her father had managed to unearth then smuggle out to her—“F-Psy in the past noted the same kinds of sensations before major catastrophic events.”
Vaughn cupped her face, an areola of pure gold around his irises, the jaguar rising to the surface. “Are you talking earthquake, plague, political turmoil?”
“Any, all,” she whispered. “But whatever it is, Sophia Russo is the domino that will begin an unstoppable cascade.” The J was the leading edge of a perfect storm, one that might annihilate them all.
“Max?”
“It’s as if he simply doesn’t exist in Sophia’s future,” Faith said, tugging at the tie that held back her mate’s hair. It fell over her hands in a stroke of rough silk, a familiar anchor. “But I don’t get that same sense of blankness as I did with Dorian. Instead, it’s this feeling that he’s never been a part of her life. Which is impossible.”
Vaughn stilled. “Not if the Sophia you see is Sophia after rehabilitation.”
Faith shook her head in stunned horror, but he was right. Full rehabilitation wiped out the psyche, creating a slate so blank that nothing of the mind, the soul, remained.
Max argued with himself about whether or not to touch Sophia, knowing it had to have been their sexual play that had caused this, but driven by gut instinct, he got on the bed and cradled her in his lap. And the instant he did, it felt right. She was a soft, warm weight on him, her breathing easy, her heartbeat steady. Something wild and 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. That’s my girl. Running a hand over her hair, Max asked her if she knew the reason she’d fallen unconscious.
“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.”