Heart of Obsidian: Book 12 (The Psy-Changeling Series series) by Nalini Singh. Read online, or download in secure EPUB format. Download Nalini Singh - Psy 12 - Heart of ukraine-europe.info, Size: KB, File name: Nalini Singh - Psy 12 - Heart of ukraine-europe.info Nalini Singh - Heart of Obsidian. Psy-Changeling 12 - dokument [*.epub] Berkley titles by Nalini Singh Psy-Changeling Series SLAVE TO SENSATION VISIONS.
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Archangel's Heart ePub (Adobe DRM) download by Nalini Singh . Heart of Obsidian: A Psy-Changeling Novel ePub (Adobe DRM) download by · Heart of . Nalini Singh Author Justine Eyre Narrator (). cover image of Bonds Nalini Singh Author Justine O. Keef Narrator (). cover image of Heart of Obsidian. Guild Hunter, and Rock Kiss series, Nalini Singh usually writes about hot shapeshifters, dangerous Nalini Singh Author cover image of Heart of Obsidian.
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Pass it on! Stay in Touch Sign up. That earned her a smile from Julian and a kiss on the cheek from Roman. Lucas watched, teasing her with his eyes.
He knew she was a sucker for the kids. She made a face back at him. Lost, she glanced at Lucas. Her childhood had been spent squeezing emotion out of her soul. Her mother had whispered to her of the rehabilitated, the nightmare creatures who were nothing more than walking vegetables, their life drained away. Her most powerful childhood memory was of standing inside the Center, watching the rehabilitated shuffle from one end of the room to the other, their features blank, their eyes empty of any but the most faded remnants of humanity.
The darkness of memory threatened to claw into her, but then a wave of love traveled down the twisting threads of the bond inside of her, this magical thing that tied her to the panther perched on the coffee-table opposite, his long legs spread to bracket her own. Lucas gave a solemn sigh and leaned forward a little, forearms braced on his thighs.
He was looking after her, too, with a quiet support that let her know he was there to help her as she figured out this new life, this new world. Lucas growled low in his throat, making both cubs quiet and snuggle against Sascha with fearful shivers. She knew it was all for show but she hugged them anyway. She lived in a tower in the middle of a forest and she had seven servants.
Nodding, Lucas leaned closer, his voice a whisper. She threw him a scowl. The wolves were supposed to be their allies now. Unrepentant laughter danced in his eyes as he continued the story. She appeared as innocent as Julian and Roman at that moment, a child surrendering to the magic of story for the first time.
A tearing rush of tenderness filled his heart, but with it came a steely determination. No one was ever going to hurt her again, not in his lifetime. Every night, he went to sleep after locking all the windows and doors in his house. His audience—all three of them—gripped each other. She was probably wondering what he was doing telling such a bloodthirsty tale to two such small leopards. She told him to eat, eat…so she could eat him. The panther within him pleased by that thought, he smiled, bared his teeth and finished the tale with a growling grab at the twins and Sascha.
All three screamed and then giggled. Julian and Roman pretended to bite him, while Sascha was a rainbow inside his mind.
In front of him, her face streaked with laughter as the cubs turned, looked at each other and decided to make her their next victim. No cannibals. But even then, he had sensed the wildness in her. She paused, thinking. A slow, sweet, perfect smile warmed up her eyes. This short story comes after Hostage to Pleasure and before Branded by Fire. A wave of crackling energy and then the pillow was being yanked off his head.
Instead, Rina leaned over to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. Curiosity spiked. As Rina well knew. His eyebrows rose. So the breakfast was a rare thing. Rare enough to have him seriously intrigued. Wide awake now, he got up, showered quickly, then dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. Running a comb through his hair, he decided he was done and walked out to the smell of banana chocolate-chip pancakes.
She grinned, looking about fifteen with her long blonde hair tied up in a loose ponytail. Wondering at her mood, he laced up his boots and followed. Laughing, he continued to drive through the beautiful Yosemite valley, the trees softened by whispers of mist. Big brass ones. He knows his stuff. They walked in silence until they reached the fallen log that was their personal marker.
From there, they could see out over the entire valley, shrouded in mist and beauty. Kit nodded. Kit had had her until he was fourteen. His father had only lived a couple more years after that—just long enough for Rina to turn eighteen, for Lucas to promise that Kit and Rina would never lack for anything. Rina touched his cheek.
Emotion crashed into him as he read the inscription on the first tag. Mom and Dad. This one had his name, his rank as a DarkRiver soldier, and on the back, the names of his mom, dad and Rina. His hand clenched around them. When Rina rose to walk a little distance from the log, he knew she was giving him the privacy to mourn, to remember, to cherish the gift. A gentle flurry of leaves fell over his shoulders, as if in answer.
Smiling, he swung the tags over his head and rose to walk over to Rina. Laughing, he held up a hand. This takes place some time after Mine to Possess. Teijan sucked back a beer and glanced at Zane, the sand warm against his bare feet. The other man leaned against the rocks and shook his head. A harsh law, but one that maintained peace among predatory changelings. Teijan understood. As such, their residence had been precarious, all of them conscious that a bigger predator could come in and run them out without warning.
His Rats, of whom only four were actually changeling, had only ever known chaos and disdain. The human Rats had come Down Below because the world Above treated them like trash.
Grinning at the image of tough, wild Zane patiently letting his baby girl catch him, Teijan filled him in. As long as those deals keep generating income, we keep getting a percentage. We hear of opportunities before anyone else. Teijan shook his head. I never gave the idea any thought. I figured if they left us alone, then it was a good deal. Now it was opening up, and the air was sweet, beautiful, full of hope. Teijan nodded.
His Rats were more than the dregs of society now. They were turning into one of the most well-informed and well-organized spy networks in the country. Any alpha would be proud to call them his own. This standalone short story features two characters from the Psy-Changeling series.
Both are wolf changelings. The ragged stuffed bear with his dashing eye patch gave her a smirk. It was their one-year-anniversary tomorrow and she was determined to do something for Drew.
Flowers were too obvious. The memories made her smile go goofy again. Pacing back and forth across the room, she knew she could ask some of her more romantic-minded friends for help, but she wanted to do this herself. For Drew. He deserved it. Only Drew had proved her wrong. She inspired him all the time.
Indigo had zero complaints about that—she enjoyed teasing him in return. It was as she was walking into that meeting that it hit her, what she had to do. And it involved talking to Riley. Drew cracked open a single eye the next morning to find himself looking into the smiling face of the most beautiful woman in the world.
Reaching out, Indigo ran her fingers through his hair. He began to smile. Because she was his mate. His gorgeous, smart, perfect mate.
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Yawning, Drew threw his arm around her. The next time he woke, his mate was missing from his arms and he could smell bacon in the air. Blinking, he looked around to find Indigo sitting cross-legged in bed. His mouth fell open as she jumped out of bed and put a wooden tray on his lap. Completely captivated, lost in her, he let her put a plate of bacon, eggs, toast, hash browns, and grilled tomatoes on the tray. She added a fresh cup of coffee and a side of strawberries.
That done, she knelt on the bed beside him and filched a piece of bacon. Putting it to his lips, she let him take a bite, then took one herself. He grinned, got with the program, fed her some of the toast, ate the rest of the bacon—and nibbled on her fingers while he was at it.
She nipped at his jaw in return. And that was how it went. Later, he put aside the tray—after picking up the last strawberry and feeding it to her. She took a bite. A drop of red juice dripped down her chin.
Leaning forward, he licked it off, then rubbed the berry on her lips so he had more to lick up. After which, he felt like running that strawberry down her throat and lower…and lower. An hour later, he lay beside Indigo, both their chests heaving. Blows my plans out of the water. His heart ached in the best way, his wolf rubbing against his skin. Especially with…that girl, even if they are our neighbors.
He listened and learned. Cass Hamilton was also a Dreamer. If she focused very hard on a dream, she could make it come true. It was a bit too strange. She was a liar. She just had really soft hair, like on a baby.
It was pretty. In the sun, it shone blue. As for Jim-Bob, he was discovered five days later, having decided to run away from home. It bothered him. Tanner men knew what was right and what was wrong. And saying sorry to Cass was the right thing to do. Not once. Not twice. But as he went to knock on her window that night, he saw something that made his hand freeze.
Cass was asleep and she was Dreaming. Something appeared on her bedside table as she slept. It was a card. Chocolates joined the card a few minutes later. His mother had been humming softly all night because his father had gotten her flowers. And his sister had come home squealing because a boy at school had given her a Valentine—a stupid card that played tinny music over and over and over again.
Ginny was a pretty good sister, and he liked it when she smiled. He wondered why Cass had to Dream her presents. She was the prettiest, most wonderful girl in town.
Surely boys had given her things? He made a face. By the police no less. Better to have put her in boarding school in some big city. It just makes me so furious. Cass smiled so bright and true, he thought he might burn up in the glow of it. The next year, she kissed his other cheek. The fourth year, she had something wonderful for him. It was a stamp with a postmark from the space station. My parents sent me a letter.
But even in his joy, he heard her pain. She sat on the windowsill and shrugged. I love my grandma and poppa and I know they love me. He dared to reach out and take her hand. When she let him, he felt as if his heart would burst. I think being your wife will be a wonderful thing. But the next year, the year Mac turned twelve, Cass was no longer there to receive his rose and kiss him on the lips at last.
The Keepers had come five months previously and taken her. She was too much like them, they said. She took him to a field full of wildflowers, and then she told him Cass was gone. So I can find her again. The leukemia had been eating him alive for years, making him race with life. But that day, in that field bursting with life and color, Mac knew Cass had left him one last gift.
I promise. To give him a healthy body, Cass had slept two long years. Time passed. There were winds in space, he thought. Perhaps the petals would reach Cass. When he was twenty, his mother sat him down for a talk. He never had. For his mother, Mac agreed to go on a date or two. The women were quite lovely, and one of them even made him laugh. He kept it beside him as he studied. On the base, they called him Mad Mac, the only man to ever fall in love with a Keeper. But when it came time to pick training crews, they always chose Mac first.
He was an engineer a pilot could trust, because Mac crossed every t and dotted every i. One day, a long time after he first began, the training mission became a real one. Mac was sent up into the vast night that surrounded the Earth, to the space station where it had all begun.
The touch of the Keepers was everywhere—in the clean air, in the trees that grew in zero gravity, in the blue skies that mimicked those of Earth—but there were none of the ancient race to be seen. Mac felt the blow as if it was a physical hit. Too long, it was too long…because Mac was human, with a human lifespan. Not in this lifetime. That night, he dreamed. Cass was sitting on the edge of a white marble balcony, her legs crossed at the ankles, her eyes sparkling bright. She was older, even more beautiful.
And her pretty soft hair had grown until it curled under her ears.
He knew she was a Keeper but he reached forward to cup her cheek in his hand. His love had been true, his devotion endless. Tanner men made up their minds early and never faltered. He laughed as she stood and ran her fingers through it. Getting older every day.
She was so soft, so beautifully female under his hands. But if he stole a shuttle and headed out into the unknown, Cass might gray herself trying to bring him home to her. Even a Keeper could hurt and graying was the worst kind of pain.
Not his vibrant, laughing Cass. Before he left the space station that time, he threw petals into space, blown by the whisper of his kiss. There were five more missions.
Heart of Obsidian
On the fifth, Mac watched the rose petals float out into space, and knew this was his last trip. His hands were getting tired, his eyes less acute.
But when he closed those eyes and dreamed, he saw in perfect clarity. Cass, so beautiful, still a woman of barely twenty. She could only Dream to him when he was in space.
Surrounded by the endless starlight of the cosmos, the kiss became a touch, the touch so much more. She was getting stronger, learning to hold on longer to the dreams. But she was only a baby Keeper. Thousands of years would have to pass before she gained the strength to Dream him home. For the last time, he considered stealing a ship and heading out into space.
If she grayed, her pain would last eons. Better that he turn to dust and become a memory. As she grew ever more beautiful, his Keeper would remember Mac Tanner, the human who had loved her a long time ago on a blue-green world called Earth.
Mac turned, looked into ageless eyes set in a face with skin the color of beaten gold. The Keeper laughed. She was a fledgling Keeper, born for greater things. You were a mortal, would forget her in a heartbeat. So, mortal, are you ready to be touched by a Keeper?
I have to get something. The Keeper was curious enough to give him the time. When he saw what it was, he laughed. It was an indescribable sensation. Death and rebirth, everything in flux. But when Mac opened his eyes, he found that he was following the Keeper home through the darkness of space.
He was only a fledgling himself, so the older one was doing the work, feeding him the strength to continue. All Mac had to do was keep his gift safe. Who knows how long it took? Keepers live eons, years are their seconds. She was standing on her white marble balcony when he found her, a beautiful woman with a waist-length mane of curling black hair. Her back stiffened and she turned.
There were tears in her eyes, but when her gaze fell to what he held, she smiled. Lush velvet and moonlight, eternity and forever, that was Cass. Will you marry me now, Mac? This scene was originally written as part of Play of Passion , but I think it works quite well as a fun short story.
I hope you enjoy! A few hours after her discussion with Hawke, Indigo glanced around the clearing and felt her heart warm with pride. The young soldiers lounging in a rough semi-circle, their legs stretched out and backs against the trees, were all strong, smart and honorable. It sounded like a child—and this area was off-limits to children unless they were with an adult. Glancing at Tai, she nodded at him to begin the discussion while she went to check out the noise.
The young male did so with a confidence that made it clear he was almost ready to be promoted to full soldier status. Charlie was right on the edge, but the girl had a temper problem. Then again, so had Jem once upon a time—channeled right, that temper could become strength. Ben, she realized at once.
The look of embarrassment on his face threatened to make Indigo smile but she caught it. Yes, he was a baby male, but he was still a male. Pride was something that seemed to come hardwired in the Y chromosome. But understanding that this was a lesson, it agreed with her silence. The howl that came out was cut off summarily as the pup stopped with a yip, having apparently startled himself.
Drew began to laugh even as packmates responded again, a concerned question in their tones this time. As she watched, Drew replied, telling them all was well. She bent down to stroke back his ears. Butting up under her hand, he lifted his head and showed her his throat. It was a gesture of active submission, a sign that he wanted to play. Leaning down, she touched noses with him in open affection.
Drew picked the pup up as she rose to her feet. That was when Drew streaked out a hand, pulled her close and kissed her with such heated thoroughness that steam came out her ears. Brenna hid a smile at the question she knew Judd had asked only because he was trying to be a good mate.
He hated eating in restaurants. Regardless of the fact that he was a master of subtle disguise, he spent the whole time tensed up, on alert for threats. Pulling out the pizzas and setting them on the counter, she shook her head. Fun was still a new concept for Judd. Now, not saying a word, he went to the comm panel and pulled up a list of recent releases. He was so serious, she wanted to reach out and kiss him stupid. Which would get her naked very quickly. Because in one arena, Judd definitely had the idea of fun down to an art—though he still refused to divulge his research sources.
Walking over, she put her hands on her hips. You want to watch a tearjerker romance set in the time of the Territorial Wars? He was digging his heels in. She knew him in this mood. If she pushed him wrong, he would flat-out refuse to change his mind—that was the thing with Judd.
He was sexy, strong, loved her until she felt the power of it in every cell of her body, but the man had a core of intractable stubborn. As you are a boy, choose one you think looks interesting. The promotional image was of a guy in a rainforest, with a machete, and a snake coiled around his arm like some kind of macho armband.
The movie was terrible. She had a stitch in her side by the time the movie was over. A slight raising of eyebrows from the man who sprawled on the sofa next to her—a sofa that had somehow survived his Tk.
She knew that look, too. It said: Her mate, eyes laughing, though his lips were only faintly curved, patted her gently on the back until she could breathe again. Pointing at him, she said,. Reaching for the remote, he tugged her to his side so she could snuggle close, and began to go through the menu again.
She shamelessly arched her neck for another kiss. Hawke walked down the corridor, well aware he was being followed by stealthy little wolf paws—or paws that were trying to be stealthy in any case. Inside him, the wild predator who was his other half opened its mouth in a wolfish grin.
They hesitated when he turned toward his own office and he could almost feel the keen disappointment that colored the air. Popping in quickly, he grabbed his sleek black sat phone and walked out again, careful to keep his back to the tracker on his trail. The little paws scampered to keep up with him, stopping only when he ran into Riaz.
As they talked Pack business, Hawke was very aware of sharp little wolf ears listening in. Once he and Riaz were done, he carried on down the corridor and to one of the exits into the White Zone, the safe play area directly outside the den. Heading to the trees, he stashed his phone in his jeans, stripped, and shifted into his wolf form.
The paws behind him ran to follow as he shook his body to settle his new skin, the silver-gold of his fur rippling, then loped deeper into the forest. Stopping at the edge of the waterfall nearest the den, he looked down at the froth of water, and after a moment, the owner of the stealthy paws padded up to stand beside him. When he turned away from the crashing fall after several minutes, the pup fell in with him as they ran the short distance back to the den.
Shifting to human form, Hawke pulled on his jeans and watched the pup change in a show of light and color. A little boy stood in front of him seconds later. In point of fact, he was better than many older children. Hawke bit back a laugh. I have to head out of the White Zone. This story slots in before Bonds of Justice , and is part of my informal series that explores the everyday lives of the characters, away from politics and turmoil and tension.
These are the stories of the hidden moments, glimpses through the window of their continuing lives. I love writing these, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading them. So find a comfortable spot and settle in.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Psy-Changeling series , this story features several members of the DarkRiver leopard pack, including two sentinels the most senior members of the pack aside from the alpha. Dorian was a highly trained architect with a magical ability on computers, and a license to fly. He was also a sniper who could shoot with cold-blooded accuracy, had a former Psy assassin as his sparring partner, and had been called an overachiever by more than one person. Wiping away the water and shoving the white-blond of his hair out of his eyes at the same time, Dorian twisted the wrench again.
It knew only that this cub was its own to protect and to nurture. Ashaya looked up from where she was icing said cookies at the counter opposite the sink, the lush brown of her skin luminous in the early afternoon light.
Sometimes when he was in leopard form and she was lying beside him in front of the laz fire, he batted at it, just to see it bounce. I made sure to use vitamin enriched flour and vegetable protein. Taking a bite, he verified that was true. It calms me, makes me happy. Funny how often that happened. Both he and Keenan waited curiously as she slid up the cover of the storage space on one end of the counter, and pulled out a tray holding a multi-hued array of cupcakes. Picking up two, she gave them one each, along with a kiss on the cheek for Keenan and the same for Dorian.
Dorian was about to tug her into a much more adult kiss when a familiar face appeared in the rectangle of light that was the open back door. Ashaya pointed a finger at the muscled young male, halting him in his tracks. Hitching himself up on the counter attached to the sink, Kit finished off the cupcake in two bites. Not that long ago, Dorian had literally thrown the novice soldier out of a bar, Kit had been so drunk.
Before that, Dorian and another sentinel had busted up a fight in which Kit had bloodied a packmate. But the youth had grown in many ways in the intervening time and was now one of the steadiest young soldiers in the pack, his strength not just in his body, but in his will and his loyalty. I know all about sneaky charm. This one will taste different. That it was good to see the children, extraordinary and unique, act exactly like the babies they were.
Kit gave him a smug smile, just as Talin and Clay appeared behind the boy. As Ashaya turned to look at Jon, Clay stole two cupcakes with feline stealth and threw one over to the teenager. Pretending innocence when Ashaya turned back, the dark-skinned sentinel stared at the cupcake sitting in front of him as if he had no idea how it had appeared. Dorian stifled a laugh. Noor and Keenan, having been chatting to each other in their own language, which was all but incomprehensible to adults, clapped at the idea, and pretty soon, the kitchen was filled with laughter and color and sugar.
As Ashaya and Talin continued to talk, Dorian grabbed some coffee for himself and Clay, and walked around the counter to slide onto the stool next to the other sentinel. And Keenan—how could he have ever known what it would mean to him to be a father, to hold the trust of an innocent in his hand?
Logic said he needed to get a Psy-Med specialist in here as fast as possible. But Kaleb knew he wasn't going to do that. He trusted very, very few people, and he trusted no one when it came to her. Since his current approach wasn't bearing the results he wanted, he shifted focus with the ease of a man who had no emotional attachment to a decision.
His initial assumption had been that the painful brightness was a normal part of her existence, but it may have been a punishment, her captors attempting to break her will.
That it wasn't already broken. Or aren't you intelligent enough to work that out? I won't even need to touch you. He didn't move, didn't betray any reaction to the fact that she'd responded in some fashion at last, even if it was nonverbal.
I won't ask again. Her mind might be broken, but it wasn't-had never been-unintelligent. No, her intellect was so piercing, her teachers had struggled to keep up with her. She had to be aware that refusing him wasn't an option. The power of a cardinal telekinetic was vast. He could crack every bone in her body with a fleeting thought, crush those bones into dust if he so chose.
Even if she no longer understood that, she'd experienced his strength when he teleported her from her cell and to his home; she had to comprehend her precarious situation.
Her eyes flicked to the glass in his hand, teeth biting down on her badly cracked lower lip. Yet she didn't reach for the water she so patently needed.
He took a moment to think, consider the circumstances in which he'd found her. You're no use to me in a coma. It was snatched from him a second later. He'd teleported in another full glass from the kitchen before she finished the first. She emptied them both. Getting rid of the glass with a negligible use of his telekinesis, he rose from his crouched position in front of her. It wasn't the kind of food he ate-like most Psy, he lived on nutrition bars, for Silence thrived in the absence of sensation, and taste was a powerful one.
His guest's Silence, however, had been shattered a lifetime ago. Sensation might well be the key to bringing her back from the mental wasteland where she'd retreated, her personality and abilities entombed. Teleporting in a knife, he sliced the bread into four smaller pieces, then, going down on his haunches, held the plate out to her.
She stared for over a minute before selecting a piece not in the quick jab he'd expected, but with measured deliberation. So, her captors hadn't starved her. She'd chosen not to eat. It took no effort to reach out with his mind, set the water to boil in the kitchen, prepare a mug of tea just hot enough that she could sip it. He dumped three teaspoons of sugar in the mug before bringing it in for her. This time, she didn't hesitate, cuddling the mug to her chest.
Realizing she was cold, he adjusted the thermostat to further warm up the already warm room. She didn't react except to take another quarter of the bread. As she ate with slow neatness, he had the sense he was being evaluated. It would've been easy to jump to the conclusion that she wasn't as broken as she appeared, that this was all a clever act, but the fleeting moments he'd spent in her mind told a far different story. She'd been splintered from the inside out. The intelligence that judged him at this instant was more akin to the primal hindbrain that existed within every civilized being, the part that knew how to identify predator from prey, danger from safety.
It wasn't the level of function he needed from her, but it was better than total catatonia or actual physical brain damage. Her brain was fine. It was her mind that was broken. Picking up an apple, he went to cut it, but her eyes flicked left to the grapes. He didn't say a word, simply put down the apple and turned the plate so the grapes were close to her hand. She ate four, took a sip of tea, and stopped. Half a slice of bread, four grapes, two glasses of water, and a sip of tea.
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