Mine to Possess

"For what, Talin? What did you do? Be my friend. That was your only crime." He remained unmoving, so much a part of the forest that she could hardly tell where he began and the night ended. "These Larkspurs - why aren't you going to them for help?"



"I brought darkness into that family. I can't bring evil."



"They're your pack, they would stand by you."



She was startled at his word usage. "My pack? No, I don't think they are. I-I was a visitor. I made myself a visitor, left the family at sixteen after getting a full board and study scholarship." Even their name, she had borrowed only until adulthood - long enough to blur the waters and dead-end any search Clay might have mounted. "I never let them in."



"Why not?"



"Do you let your pack touch your soul?" she asked, desperate to learn about his new life, his new world, years of hunger coalescing into this single moment.



"DarkRiver cats have a way of adopting you even if you don't particularly want to be adopted." It was a snarl. "If I bleed, they'll come to my aid. They would kill for me."



She shivered at the wild violence of his statement. But there was also a seduction in that kind of loyalty. It made her wonder about bonds of a far different sort. "Do you...do you have someone in your pack?"



He went very still. "I don't scent a mate on you."



"Me?" Her voice came out high, startled. "No. I - No."



He remained silent.



She coughed. "I don't want to get in the way of a relationship by involving you in my problems."



"Leave my relationships to me."



Her insides twisted. "Fine."



Clay waited. Juvie had been hell, but it had taught him to contain emotion, to hold his anger inside until it was needed - then use it like a weapon. The Psy scientists who had come to observe "captive animal behavior" had been his unwitting teachers.



At the time, he'd been the lone predatory changeling under long-term incarceration - changeling packs usually dealt with their own without Enforcement involvement. But not only had Clay not had a pack, he'd crossed a racial boundary in his crime. Orrin had been human.



Yet instead of subjecting him to hard study and learning things - things that could have given the Psy Council an edge in the cold war it was currently waging against the changelings - the Psy had treated him as a curiosity, an animal behind bars. It was the animal who had watched and learned. Now he watched as Talin shifted from foot to foot before folding her arms around herself again.



"I work with kids in San Francisco," she said without warning. "I've been doing it ever since I graduated. But not here. I was in New York until the start of this year."



"Is one of them in danger?" He felt the embers of his fury flare into life at the realization that she'd been in his territory for close to three months. All those times he had caught a hint of her scent in Chinatown or down by Fisherman's Wharf, only to find himself trailing a stranger; he'd thought it a sign he really had gone over the edge.



"Not like that." Dropping her arms, she looked at his eyes, which he'd allowed to go night-glow. "Clay, please. Stop doing the cat thing and come out so I can see your face."



"No." He wasn't ready to show her anything. "Did you know I was in the city?"



"Not at first. I had no way to track you after you got out of juvie." She kicked at the grass. "Then one day, a few weeks ago, I thought I saw you. Drove me crazy - I thought I was hallucinating, making up fantasies of what you would've looked like as an adult."



He didn't respond, despite the near-echo of his earlier thoughts.



She blew out a breath. "I swear - " The abrasive sound of teeth grinding against each other. "I went back to where I thought I'd seen you, realized it was the DarkRiver business HQ, and looked them up on the Internet. I still wasn't sure - there was no photo and you changed your last name to Bennett."



It had been a way to drop off the face of the world, to lose any simmering media attention. But over the years, it had become his name. "We'll talk about you tracking me later," he said, cold fire burning a hole in his gut. "First, tell me why you need my help."



"If you're trying to scare me, it's working. That doesn't mean I'm going to cut and run."



In that bravado-filled challenge, he caught another fleeting glimpse of the girl she'd been. The day they had met, she'd sat there beside him, wide-eyed and terrified to her tiny toes, but stubborn enough not to leave till the paramedics came. "Why not?" he said, shifting his anger into sarcasm. "You're real good at it."



She raised her face to the canopy and took a deep breath, as if trying to hold on to her temper. He wondered if she'd succeed. His Tally had always been very quiet...except with him. He alone had known that she was neither shy nor particularly calm. The girl had a temper like a stick of dynamite. Quick to heat, quick to blow over.



"Kids are disappearing, not only here but across the country," she now said, her anger red-hot, but no longer directed at him. "At first, they were labeled runaways, but I knew some of them. They weren't that kind." Her shoulders drew up. "Now I have proof I was right, and I wish every night that I didn't." Her voice broke.



"Talk to me." He didn't like seeing her in pain, never had, probably never would. This familiar stranger, this woman who saw him as a monster, was his one fucking fatal weakness and didn't that just suck?



"They found Mickey's body two weeks ago." A tear streaked down her cheek. She dashed it away with a furious swipe. "He was eleven years old, bright, so bright, could remember everything he'd ever read."



"Like you."



"Yeah. Except instead of being abandoned as a baby, he had the bad luck to live with a mother who always chose abusive men." She gave him a smile but it was nothing happy. "He was mine, Clay. I promised him safety and in return, he went to school every day." Tremors shook her frame, whitened her knuckles. "Someone beat him to death. Everything was broken. The bastards pulverized his face - like they were wiping him out!"



Anger shot through his bloodstream. He thought of the children in the pack, of what he'd do to anyone who dared harm them. "One of his mother's men?"



"I might have thought so, but Mickey was at a camp out of state when they took him. And it's not only him we lost." A breath that sounded as if her throat was lined with broken glass. "They found two more bodies this week. At least one more kid remains missing."



The leopard half of his soul - angry, hurt, and still in shock at her return - wanted to go to her. To hold her. Tactile contact, affection as a method of healing, was the way of changelings, something he'd been taught after being pulled into DarkRiver. But Talin was scared of him. She had told him that to his face, and the sharp knife of it was still buried in his heart. The man wasn't sure he wanted to chance another rejection. Keeping the animal's instincts in check, he finally stepped out of the shadows. "Do you want to be held, Talin?"



Her damp eyes widened at the blunt question, then she nodded in a little jerking motion. Something in him quieted, waiting. "Then come here."



A pause during which the entire forest seemed to freeze, the night creatures aware of the leopard's tense watchfulness.



"Oh, God, Clay." Suddenly her arms were wrapped around his back, her cheek pressed against the white cotton of his T-shirt.



Hardly daring to breathe, he closed his own arms around her feminine warmth, blindingly aware of every inch of her pressed into him, every spot of wetness soaking through his T-shirt.



She was so small, so damn soft, her humanity apparent in the delicacy of her skin, the lightness of her bones. The Psy might be fragile in comparison to changelings, but they had powers of the mind to compensate. Humans had the same fragility but none of the psychic abilities. A wave of protectiveness washed over him.



"Shh, Tally." He used the nickname because, at this moment, he knew her. She had always had a heart too big for her body, a heart that felt such pain for others while ignoring its own. "I'll find your lost one."



She shook her head against him. "It's too late. Three bodies already. Jonquil is probably dead, too."



"Then I'll find who did this to them and stop him."



She stilled against him. "I didn't come here to turn you into a killer again."



Chapter 4



"I am a killer," he said, unwilling to let her hide from this. "I'm a leopard changeling and in my world, killing to protect your pack is understood and accepted."



"I'm not part of your pack."



"No." So why was he going to help her? Especially after she'd made her opinion of him crystal clear. "No child deserves to die that way."



A small silence. "Thank you." She didn't let go. "You've become so strong."



"I was always strong compared to you." Now he could snap her in two without thinking. It was that difference in strength that had always kept him away from human females. The rare lovers he took were all changeling. He was who he was. And gentleness was not part of his nature. "Unless you've muscled up and it doesn't show on the surface?"



She laughed, a warm, intrinsically feminine sound. "I'm still a shrimp, but you - you've become a leopard."



He understood. She had known him as an angry boy trapped inside the claustrophobic walls of their apartment complex. The lack of clean air had stifled the leopard, wounded him on an elemental level. He hadn't even been able to shift without someone calling the cops to report a wild animal on the loose. Then there was Isla, unable to bear the sight of her son in leopard form.



"Are you happy with DarkRiver?" Talin asked now.



"They're my family, my friends." For Clay, that loyalty meant everything. They accepted him as he was, didn't give a shit that he preferred to roam alone more often than not, invited him into their homes without compunction.