Caressed by Ice

CHAPTER 12

He knew he should push off her hand. But he didn’t. “It changed us while we were functioning under its influence, made us less human, more capable of killing. Perfect programmed soldiers who could still think with crystal-clear accuracy.” Jax had altered the Arrows’ view of right and wrong, made them incapable of seeing shades of gray.

“How long were you exposed to it, Judd?” She sounded frantic. “There could be long-term effects.”

“A year,” he told her, wondering why she wasn’t running—he’d admitted to having blood on his hands. “I believe I’m safe. My brain didn’t have a chance to reset permanently.” As had happened with some senior Arrows. They truly were the darkness, lethal machines who followed the will of their handlers with unswerving dedication.

“Only a year.” She rose up on her knees and leaned in close enough to grip his sweater. “How long were you an Arrow?”

He found he’d made a space for her between his raised knees. One more move and his hands would be on the soft curves of her hips. He fought the compulsion with the hard truths of memory. “From eighteen to twenty-six. Eight years.” But he’d been in training since the age of ten, since the day he’d first killed.

Brenna uncurled her hands from his chest and reached out to touch him lightly on the side of his jaw. He met her gaze, fascinated as always by the spiking explosion of arctic blue around the pupils. He’d never seen it as a scar, but as a symbol of her strength. Most people did not walk out sane after having their minds torn open.

“How?” she asked, dropping her hand to his collarbone. “How did you escape being administered with the drug after that first year?”

The dissonance had kicked in during that fleeting caress along his jaw, but the pain was slight. Easily manageable for a man trained not to break even under torture of the most inhuman kind. “I realized what it was doing to me seven months in.” He had known his handlers would never agree to a simple request to halt the drug regime, not when Jax gave them a fully obedient and extremely lethal army.

“My abilities aren’t common, not the specific subdesignation.” Of which she could know nothing. The second she found out about his Tk, she’d classify him in the same group as Santano Enrique: the cabal of murderers. No matter what he’d decided about the need to force her to keep her distance, he didn’t want Brenna seeing him that way. A jagged spike of pain speared through his skull—the dissonance had moved to stage two. “So there was no way for anyone to cross-check my statements about it.”

She reached out to brush a lock of hair off his forehead and her skin felt so delicate, so different from his. “You lied.”

“Yes. I began to deliberately make psychic mistakes while on Jax.” Such as not applying enough pressure to cause death or the specific type of injury he’d been instructed to bring about. “Then I told them I was having dreams.”

“Dreams?” Her forehead lined with concentration. “What’s wrong with having dreams?”

“Psy don’t dream.” To dream was to be considered flawed. He’d begun dreaming as a child, but the dreams he had as an adult were not the ones he’d had then—before his ability had come to vicious life.

Brenna’s hand clenched on his shoulder. “No freedom, even in sleep.”

“No.” He wanted to touch her hair, it looked so soft and silky. The dissonance became a fraction stronger, but it was nothing compared to what he’d undergone as a ten-year-old boy put into the custody of the squad’s trainers. They’d placed modified electrodes on the most sensitive parts of his body, strapped him down, and proceeded to teach him the meaning of pain.

It had taken him only a week to learn to stop screaming, another five to stop blacking out. By his eleventh birthday, he could watch his arm being broken and not react. “My plan worked—they took me off Jax.” They had also removed several others with related abilities. Interestingly, none of those men had ever asked to be put back on the drug.

“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear that.”

He didn’t respond, his attention caught by something else.

“You’re staring,” Brenna accused a minute later, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“I apologize.” Her skin looked creamy and rich in the warm light from the laz-fire, her hair golden and her eyes—they appeared lit from within. “You’re staring, too.”

Her blush deepened. “I can’t help it. You’re so pretty, so perfect.”

It wasn’t the word he’d been expecting and he wasn’t sure it was the one he wanted to hear. “Are you attracted to perfection?” He wasn’t being vain. He’d been told during advanced training that he had a face of perfect symmetry, something that attracted humans and changelings alike, and could, therefore, be used to his advantage. He’d never followed that advice—it would have been one step too far into the abyss.

She laughed, the sound husky and intimate. “No, pretty doesn’t do it for me. Otherwise Tai would have succeeded in reeling me in during high school.”

He recalled the young wolf’s face—a shock of straight black hair, high cheekbones covered by healthy brown skin, slightly slanted blue-green eyes. The elements added up to a picture that Brenna’s comment told him was attractive to females. Pretty. His hand curled into a fist on the carpet. “Then if you don’t find me attractive, why are you staring?”

“I didn’t say that.” Brenna’s voice had grown darker, hungrier. “If pretty was all you were, I wouldn’t be so fascinated. You have dangerous eyes, a stubborn jaw, the body of a soldier, and the mind of a hunter. That, my darling Psy,” she whispered, “makes you a gorgeous, sexy package I want to lick from head to toe.”

Her confession was followed by silence so deep Judd could hear the whispers of the wind whipping around the cabin. Then her blush fired to red hot. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I actually said that out aloud.”

Neither could he. The fact that she saw him as so sexually appealing was enough of a surprise to render him speechless. He was numb. Even the dissonance cut off—likely reading his reaction as one of complete unemotionality.

“Say something.” Brenna’s hand turned into a tight fist on his shoulder.

He found his voice through an act of intense willpower. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“I don’t usually say things like that to men.” She scowled. “Are you sure you aren’t using Psy powers on me?”

“I would never break that ethical law.” His tone went cold at the implication.

She thumped his shoulder. “I was joking, you idiot.” Blush having faded, her lips began to curve in a slow, teasing smile. “You don’t know what to do with me, do you?”

Admitting that seemed like a bad idea. “If you were male, I’d simply throw you out with a few bruises. As you’re not, I’m uncertain how to get rid of you.”

“That’s just mean.” But she continued to smile. “Can I ask you something?”

At that instant, he was her personal Arrow. “Ask.”

“Don’t you want to—” She paused. “Actually, I don’t think I’m that brave.”

“Don’t I want to what?”

“Forget I said anything.” Rising to her feet, she ran a hand through her hair, sending the short strands spiking.

Still seated, he put a hand on her leg, on the sensitive skin behind her knee. A small touch but one that restarted the dissonance with a vengeance and froze Brenna. He knew why. According to his research on body language, the touch was an intimate one, something most females only allowed those they trusted. “Tell me.”

Her expression was inscrutable when she glanced down. “You’re Psy, figure it out. It’s a logical progression.” With that, she shook off his hand and walked toward the small kitchen area. “Do you want coffee?”

He changed position so he could watch her. “Alright.” Coffee wasn’t part of the Psy meal plan, but he’d become used to it since his defection. While waiting for Brenna to prepare the drink, he did as directed and worked through their conversation. It would’ve gone faster had he not kept getting distracted by the sight of her moving with feminine efficiency mere meters away. The sway of her hips was—“Don’t I ever want to lick a woman all up?”

She squeaked, then swiveled to face him, bracing her hands on the counter behind her. “Not quite how I would’ve put it.” Her tone was higher than normal. “But yeah.”

“You,” he said quietly, no longer able to lie. “You tempt me.”

“Oh.” Her breasts rose up as she took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’ve never let on.”

Yes, he had. If she ever saw the way he watched her when she wasn’t looking, she’d be in no doubt as to the strength of his unacceptable reaction to her. “Because it doesn’t matter,” he told her. “It changes nothing.”

“Liar.” She stared at him unblinking. “Other Psy don’t feel desire.”

“It’s a major fracture in my conditioning,” he acknowledged—to her and to himself. “A fracture I intend to repair.” What he couldn’t understand was why it had reappeared so quickly after the work he’d done to close it yesterday. He should’ve been immune to the sweet seduction of her body.

“Then what? You forget temptation?”

“Yes.”

Eyes full of fire, she turned her back to him and continued with the coffee preparation. “You know that list about you? I should’ve added pigheaded to it.”

Her anger fascinated him as much as every one of her other emotions. And admitting that brought him another hazardous step closer to the edge of a catastrophic breach. The dissonance spiked and this time he listened, because for him, the pain wasn’t simply a warning to get his emotions under control, it was a warning to get his ability under control.

His power wasn’t passive, wouldn’t turn inward if he lost his white-fisted grip on it. No, it would go outward, would seek to tear flesh and crush fragile feminine bones. “Don’t you ever wonder,” he asked coldly, conscious that he was assassinating any chance he had with her, “if you’re attracted to me because of what Enrique did?”

This time, she stopped what she was doing and stalked over to stare down at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He rose to his feet. “He was Psy. So am I. He hurt you. Maybe you want to cancel out that experience with a positive one.”

Her fists were bloodless skin over bone, her jaw set. “Unlike you, I don’t think through every one of my actions. I behave according to my emotions.”

He stood toe to toe with her, almost able to feel the psychic wave of her fury. “This time, that’s not enough. You need to examine the reasons behind those emotions.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “And if I was looking for some kind of validation that not all Psy are evil monsters, would you be able to give it to me?”

“I can’t give you emotional absolution.” He might damage her even further. “I can’t give you the kind of a relationship you need to heal.”

“Heal? I’m not a damaged thing you have to put back together. I put myself back together!” She slammed her hand against her heart.

“But you haven’t been in close contact with any male outside of your safe circle since the rescue.” Except him. And under no circumstances could he have her.

“So you really meant what you said to me yesterday?” Her voice rose. “I should find myself a nice wolf and settle down?”

He fought off the rising incursions of dissonance, the razor blades sliding through his brain stem and traveling down his spine. “That would be rushing things.”

“Oh, I see. You think I should fuck someone to get over my bad experience.” The coarse words shotgunned from her lips like bullets. “No, wait, it’s Psy men I’m apparently worried about. So maybe you’re the one I should—”

“Don’t say it.” His fingers were gripping her chin though he had no memory of putting them there. “Don’t,” he repeated when she opened her mouth.

She held his gaze. “Why? That’s what you just tried to reduce us to.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Brenna.” There couldn’t be, not if he wanted her to live the life she deserved. “For some reason, you’re attracted to me. And yes,” he said when it looked like she was going to respond with another burst of red-hot anger, “I’m tempted by you. But that means nothing.”

“How can you say that?” She closed her hand over his wrist but didn’t attempt to break his hold. “Look at yourself. You don’t react like this to anyone else. Only me.”

“I know. And if I keep reacting like this, I’ll end up killing either you or another innocent.” Releasing her chin, he stepped back.

“Kill someone?” Stunned incomprehension wiped away the red flush of her temper. “Why are you worried about that?”

Heading to the door, he grabbed his jacket and shoved on the boots he’d removed earlier. “Go to bed.”

“Judd!” She stamped her foot. “Walking away isn’t going to solve anything.”

He pulled open the door and strode out into the cold. Small flakes of snow fell on his hair and the wind burned across his unprotected face, but he barely noticed, his mind still in the cabin. Tonight, he’d come shockingly close to breaking Silence and feeling anger of the most violent kind. The anger of a Tk with his subset of powers wasn’t normal in any sense—he’d found that out as a ten-year-old boy standing over another child’s corpse.

Leaving Brenna might not fix anything, but it would keep her safe. From him. He’d known that should she say that last word, it would push him too far. He continued to feel the texture of her skin under his fingertips—warm, smooth, touchable. Gritting his teeth, he walked deeper into the winter-cloaked night, hoping the snow would chill the fire in what should have been the pure, unbroken ice of his heart.

Brenna threw her boot against the wall. “Men!” She considered running after Judd—she was fast even if she couldn’t go wolf—but abandoned the idea in a fit of female fury. She was through with chasing him! He could chase after her for once.

Except that two hours later, he still hadn’t made an appearance. “Fine,” she said, turning over in the bed she’d appropriated. “I’ll leave tomorrow if that’s what he wants.” How dare he say those things to her?

You need to examine the reasons behind those emotions.

His words wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much she tried to forget them. Was that what she was doing—using Judd to get past her own fear? And she was afraid. Everyone thought she was so brave and strong because she’d survived with her sanity intact. It made her want to laugh, but with nothing even close to happiness. Because as she’d told Judd, and no matter what he’d said to the contrary, she was broken. Enrique had destroyed her spirit, made her suspicious and insular, where before she’d been easy to extend the hand of friendship, easy to smile, easy to see joy.

Today she faced the horror that he’d made her such a weak woman, she’d been ready to use another man to find her own courage. Something told her that Judd Lauren had been used quite enough. She didn’t have to know the facts. She saw the truth in the shadows behind his eyes—he expected her to take what she needed and then leave.

She pulled the blanket up her body in a vain effort to warm the cold in her soul. “No. This isn’t about Judd being Psy.” It if had been, she would have gone to Walker. He was no less Psy and far more approachable. Or was that the attraction, another part of her asked—the fact that Judd was so damn dangerous, more than tough enough to take on her demons?

“So what if I’m attracted to him because of what happened?” She’d changed in her fight to survive the evil that had touched her, lost part of her innocence. But she’d also gained knowledge, learned who she was and what she could endure. The new woman she’d become found Judd Lauren fascinating.

Well, she had. Now she was too mad to care.