Last Guard (Psy-Changeling Trinity #5) by Nalini Singh

The idea of it was so breathtakingly seductive that it stole her breath. “Thank you,” she managed to get out. “You didn’t have to answer me, but you did.” It meant something.

“Sahara’s obviously a bad influence.” No change in his tone or expression, Krychek glanced at his timepiece. “We need a Coalition meeting,” he said. “Can you do it after this?”

“Give me a half hour.” Not only did she need to refuel, she had to deal with a couple of business issues to keep her father and brother at bay.

“I’ll send you the comm codes.” He nodded toward the door. “By the way, someone’s been shoving telekinetically at your door for the past ten minutes.”

She glanced toward the door, only then realizing he had to be holding it shut against any attempt to enter. “I appreciate the notice. I have it.”

Krychek left it to her, but before he teleported out, he looked her in the eye and said, “Some choices define us, Payal.”

She inclined her head, her heart in a fist, and when she looked up, he was gone.

“Payal!” Lalit’s voice yelling her name. “Stop playing games and open this damn door.”

She rubbed her forehead. She was tired and needed time to rest and refuel, not deal with her psychopathic brother. She also needed the tumor-control medication, but the pain wasn’t yet to the point where things were critical. What was Lalit even doing here?

A single glance at her organizer told her the answer: their father had been attempting to contact her. Too bad.

She teleported out, leaving Lalit to fall into an empty office.





Chapter 31



“I think I might actually have been kind. It’s disturbing.”

“And people say you have no sense of humor. Come here so I can kiss you.”

—Sahara Kyriakus to Kaleb Krychek

CANTO NEARLY RAN into Payal when she appeared in front of the glass doors that opened out onto his deck.

She swayed.

“Hey, hey.” Heart thundering, he gripped her hips.

She swayed again.

Shifting his hold, he eased her down into a seated position on the only possible seat: his lap. Warm and soft, she was a jolt to his system.

“Sorry.” Her voice was slurred as her head slumped against his shoulder. “Thought I was stable, but conduit drain kicked in midteleport.”

“It’s all right, baby. I have you.” He made sure she was settled in a comfortable position, then took them straight to the kitchen using hover mode—he couldn’t push the chair with one arm holding her tight against him. He could’ve shifted her to the sofa on his way past, but his muscles were rigid, his chest a drum. Feeling the warm puffs of her breath on his skin—he needed that.

Needed to have her alive and breathing, his 3K who’d always been a fighter.

Grabbing a bottle of nutrients, he twisted it open, then poured the thick liquid into a glass, all the while aware of her living warmth. Payal was considerably lighter than him, but she also had a lot more softness to her—a cushion of curves that might’ve distracted had he not been so worried about the sluggish nature of her pulse.

Cupping the back of her head, he put the edge of the glass to her lips. “Payal, you need this.” He made his voice a harsh order. “Can you drink?”

She lifted her hands, but they were weak and barely touched the glass before sliding off. But she was swallowing, so sip by sip, he got the whole glass into her. When she laid her head back down against his shoulder afterward, he didn’t try to repeat his success. The first glass should be enough to give her a boost.

Moving them out of the kitchen, he dragged a small knitted blanket off his sofa. Magdalene had made it for him after taking up the craft as a calming exercise in the years after he returned to her life—his ostensibly Silent mother had carried a lot of guilt for what Binh had done to Canto.

“I ran full background checks,” she’d told him when he was older. “Our family never agrees to such contracts with the cruel or evil. We never send our blood into harm. But I did. I failed you.”

Their relationship would’ve withered if he’d held on to anger and she on to guilt. As it was, she was now one of the stable foundations of his life, and he was glad of the warmth of her blanket around Payal’s body as he moved back outside. He wanted Payal in the fresh air and sunlight. Anchors were too often in darkened rooms, their minds overwhelming all other senses.

Once he’d parked the chair, he moved his free hand to cup her nape, then went into the Substrate, to the location of the construct meant to cover Chandika Das’s zone. He saw the problem at once. The construct had cracked at a critical point, which meant the entire thing was feeding off only Payal.

Canto got to work.

Payal stirred in his arms the instant he completed the final repair. Dropping from the Substrate, he stroked a hand down her back over the top of the knitted blanket.

She snuggled into him, her nose cold when it touched his neck.

Canto cuddled her closer. It came naturally—because it was her. 3K. The girl who’d held his hand with fierce loyalty when he was at his most broken.

There were no walls inside him when it came to her.

She came out of it with a yawn, then froze before her muscles went lax again. “I’m sitting on your lap,” she said, snuggling into him with no sign of discomfort.