Last Guard by Nalini Singh

Chapter 23

Yesterday, someone I was assisting yelled at me to stop being so damn naive, to stop expecting the best of people! I had to inform them it was congenital—and that it wasn’t a bug but a feature. Never, my fellow Es, let anyone tell you otherwise. One by one, we’re going to change hearts and minds … and the world.

—Ivy Jane Zen, President, Empathic Collective, in a letter to the Collective membership

SNAPPING HER MOUTHshut, Payal swallowed and blinked hard. “Do you see?” It came out a rasp. “I’m manic. My shields are down and I’m like a bullet that keeps ricocheting.”

Canto made himself breathe past the shock of hearing her laughter for that one dazzling moment, made himself listen. He needed to talk to Arwen, find out more about how a mind like Payal’s worked—without ever mentioning Payal. But for now, he just wanted her in any way she wanted to be with him.

Payal drank from the chocolate drink, gave it a long look afterward. “Too rich. I like the fruit ones better.” Putting the drink aside with a rapid movement, she teleported a fruit drink from the table to hover in front of her.

Tilting her head to the side, she made the bottle tumble end over end while they both watched. Grabbing it without warning, she twisted off the lid and took two gulps before meeting Canto’s gaze again. “Do you see? I’m unstable.” It was a challenge. “No one normal acts this way.”

“What I see is a telekinetic with fine control over her ability,” he pointed out. “You’re also having a fully rational conversation with me.” He had his suspicions about why she had such a negative view of her natural emotional inclinations, but he didn’t have enough information to know if he was right.

Payal “threw” the bottle almost to the ceiling, held it there, then allowed it to drop into her hands. “My mind zigs and zags,” she muttered. “I can’t hold on to a single thought for long.” She jumped up, went to the balcony doors. “Why is it so green outside?” Her hand hovered over the touch-activated door control, but she looked back at him rather than making contact.

“Yes,” he said, fascinated by the primal complexity of her.

Opening the doors on a shush of sound, she ran out onto the deck that overlooked lush green foliage and, beyond it, a road bordered by more foliage. Farther back rose huge forest goliaths—as they did behind his property.

Having reached the railing, Payal craned her neck left, then right. “There are no other houses. Only trees.”

Canto didn’t tell her they were on the edge of StoneWater bear territory, even though this part of their land was technically accessible to the public. While he could put himself in Payal’s hands without a qualm, he couldn’t do that with the bears.

He’d have to talk to Valentin, ask permission to give a teleporter this information.

“It’s so quiet here.” Payal stepped back from the edge, then went to it again. This time, she leaned over the railing until her feet were off the deck boards. “You planted flowers!”

“They were a gift. I couldn’t let them die.” It would’ve broken Arwen’s heart, and that Canto would never do.

Running to the other edge of the balcony, Payal looked over there, too, then came back and said, “I’m hungry. I have a migraine. It hurts.”

Canto scowled. “Do you need—”

“Food,” she interrupted, dropping her fingers from her temple. “Food will make me feel better.”

The two of them went inside, and she curled up on his sofa again, tangled hair, wild eyes, and a frenetic energy tightly contained as she wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock. “See, Canto? See? I’m quite mad outside the cage.”

“I see bright, wild energy. A little jagged at the edges, sure. But I don’t see any sign of dangerous mental instability.” With no other data at hand, he had to go on his gut instinct and on his knowledge of Payal on the mental plane.

That she was disturbed by herself, he accepted. But he also knew that she’d never received positive feedback from those around her.

“Kindness matters, Canto,” Arwen had said to him once, his empath’s heart pinned to his sleeve and his eyes shining. “Tell a child enough times that he’s brave and smart and good, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Not ever would Canto gainsay Payal in any decision she made about her mind—but he damn well was going to be that positive voice, the one that shone light on the other side of the coin and made her realize that all her feedback to date had been skewed heavily to the negative.

When she continued to rock silently, he picked up a piece of toast, spread it with butter, then took a bite. The salt hit hard and strong. “I’m a fan of butter and baked goods.” He held out the half-eaten toast to her. “Bite?”

A halt to the rocking.

She stared suspiciously at the bread, then snatched it and took an experimental bite. “Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t give it back.

He made another piece for himself, began to eat.

As she nibbled on the piece she’d claimed, Payal watched him with an intensity that should’ve been unnerving. It wasn’t. Payal wasn’t looking at him with murder in mind—but as if he were some unknown animal. “My father told me I was a feral and insane beast. That’s why he put me in that place.”

“My father told me I was a blot on their genetic history, too broken to be worth saving even for my cardinal status.”

Half the furniture in the room rose up off its legs before slamming back down. Hard. “I’ll kill him,” Payal said firmly, then frowned. “No, he’s already dead.”

“And long forgotten.” Since she’d finished her toast, Canto threw her a piece of Chaos’s homemade muesli slice. “Want me to kill your father for you?”

A pause as she chewed on a bite of the slice. Two deep vertical lines furrowed her brow. “No,” she said after swallowing. “He’s a monster, but it’d cause too much chaos if he died without warning—thousands of people rely on the Rao empire to feed their families.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Canto raised an eyebrow. “Baby, you sound lucid to me.”

She ate two bites in quick succession, her breathing short and jagged. “The jittering in my head. It’s not … good, Canto.”

He heard the incipient panic, frowned. “Can you shield partway? So you’re not shutting away all of you?” He was compelled by her in all her guises, but he wouldn’t have her hurting. Payal deserved a life of joy, not pain. “Or is it all or nothing?”

She parted her lips to reply, but shut her mouth before saying a word. For a while she just focused on the muesli slice, interspersed with drinks of the fruit-flavored nutrients she’d chosen. When she’d finished the slice, she looked at what else he had on offer, and chose a piece of mild cheese. “I don’t know,” she said after she’d finished that. “As a child, it was all or nothing.”

“You’re not a child anymore,” he said softly, holding her gaze as his heart squeezed. “You were also doing it alone. If you want, I can get you access to an empath who’ll never ever betray anything you tell him. He might be able to assist.”

Payal ate another piece of cheese before throwing her arms open without warning. “What are we doing? This.” Moving her arm around to indicate the two of them in his living room.

“Being us.” It was a risk, to remind her that they were just Canto and Payal. 3K and 7J, with a bond fierce and unbreakable.

Payal hugged her knees to her chest again. “I have to go,” she blurted out. “I’ll send you the details of my contact with the Ruling Coalition.”

She was gone before he could respond.

His heart kicked and he hoped like hell he hadn’t made a mistake, hadn’t terrified her away.

A flicker of movement to his left had him jerking his attention that way. The last thing he expected to see was a small bear with dark brown fur climbing up the balcony strut to reach the beam at the top. Seeing him, the little bear made excited sounds and jumped onto the balcony before running over to him.

The doors were still open, so the cub ran right in.

Heart thundering—this level of his home was high above the ground—Canto leaned down and scooped up the small, furry weight. “What are you doing here?” He nipped the cub’s ear as he’d seen Valentin do; he needed the outlet for his fear, but he made sure not to do it too hard.

The cub made more sounds and snuggled into him.

Holding the cub’s warmth against his chest, Canto forced himself to breathe. What if Payal had been here when this happened? She’d have realized they were in bear country. He knew she wouldn’t have used the information in any ugly way, but he still needed to let Valentin know.

The only reason he’d invited her here was that Denhome was some distance away. Just because he’d decided to move closer to his cousin didn’t mean he actually wanted to live with bears who didn’t know the meaning of personal space.

He’d once put out a sign saying: I don’t want visitors.

It had been replaced by a sign that read: We’re not visitors. We’re bears.

Hilarious.

But baby bears were not allowed out alone in this public-accessible area.

He stroked his hand over the small bear in his arms. A bear who’d begun to tremble. “I have you,” he said roughly, patting its back—he was no expert in affection, but he had eyes; he’d seen how Chaos handled Dima, how Valentin interacted with all the cubs.

“I’ll get you home.” He opened the buttons of his shirt so the cub could lie against his skin—such contact was important to changelings, especially such a small and scared one. “You know you’re safe.” He couldn’t yet recognize most bears in their bear form, but he knew the child must’ve met him when he’d visited Denhome.

Even a lost, scared changeling child wouldn’t have run so joyfully toward a stranger. Kid must’ve caught his scent by the house, come toward it out of panic.

“Come on, let’s go call your pack.” It came out rougher than he’d intended, but the cub didn’t flinch. Used to grumbling bear voices, it snuggled closer to the vibration of his chest and dug small claws into his chest to hold on—but the child was careful not to pierce his skin. This was someone’s baby; they’d been taught their manners.

Spotting the food at that instant, the cub made hungry sounds but didn’t pounce.

He put the cub on the sofa. “Sit here. I’m getting something.” He was aware of the cub getting to its feet and watching him over the top of the sofa as he went into the kitchen. All the counters in the space were hydraulic, so they could be raised or lowered at will. Mostly, they stayed set to the levels he preferred, but the system gave him the flexibility to accommodate Arwen—his cousin loved to cook. Not that a lack of customization had ever stopped Arwen; for Canto’s last place, he’d just gone ahead and bought himself a riser that he’d placed on any surface where he wanted to work standing up.

Stubborn empath.

Now Canto grabbed the jar of hazelnut-chocolate spread that same stubborn empath had bought him. He’d tried it once and nearly died from the sugar overdose.

But the cub jumped happily when he held it up.

Satisfied he was handling this in a way that wouldn’t traumatize the kid, he went back around and shifted himself from his chair to the sofa. The cub immediately snuggled itself to his side, where the child waited patiently while Canto put the spread on a piece of toast.

The cub ate neatly after Canto offered it to him.

He was about to dig out his phone when a much larger figure jumped onto his deck.