am. It is only what I told you, when I first got into your car.”
“Maks Altán,” she said, and touched his face again. “You told me what you do. It’s not the same thing.”
* * *
She’d said something he hadn’t expected to hear, Katie knew that much. She’d known enough to give him space after that, too—disentangling, still full of her own hot confusion.
He’d barely touched her. And yet, there she’d been...sated on the front porch, in the arms of a tiger.
One who’d known how to tame the deer, fear and all.
Later, wandering her loft bedroom while Maks slept in that cluttered first-floor bedroom—she had no idea how to put it all together. Unlike Maks, she couldn’t just accept without understanding. She needed to know that he’d come to respect her seeings and her healing, in the wake of so many little subtle indications to the contrary. She needed to know why her vision had grown so intense...and her body so needy. And she needed to know how—and why —Maks figured into the other things she’d seen. Because it was her job to understand what the warnings meant.
Pretty full of yourself, Katie Rae. Her job was—and always had been—to report what she saw and let brevis sort it out. She might have more practice at that if she hadn’t been looking aside from herself for so long. Squelching herself.
She couldn’t quite blame her neglected talent for failing to fall into line, but it meant she had nothing to work with but disparate pieces. Maks. Glinting metal and splashing blood, a blur of startled green eyes, a muted roar and a cry of pain. The Core at the back of her house, leaving an amulet of silent menace. Images of oppressive dark space and terror, a deep stabbing awareness of wrong...
Nick Carter had no doubt hoped there was nothing amiss here at all—no doubt hoped this assignment would be an easy reintroduction to the field for a recovering Sentinel. But she didn’t imagine he knew just how deeply compromised Maks had become.
And no matter how many times she put all the facts together in her thoughts, rolled them together and tossed them out again, they didn’t fall into any neat pattern. They didn’t tell her what to do next.
They didn’t let her sleep.
Then again, maybe that was for the best. It let her watch while her wounded tiger slept.
Chapter 8
M orning found Maks back on the couch, and Katie at the end of her rope.
She didn’t know where he’d spent the night after she’d left him, or how—whether it had been indoors or out, man or tiger. She only knew his misery was obvious.
But he wouldn’t talk to her. And while in some part of her mind she understood that he’d been through too much in the past twenty-four hours, the rest of her thought she deserved better.
He lay slanted across the couch, his arm cradled and his breathing too uneven for him to be asleep. His brows drew together briefly even as she watched; his breath hitched.
Definitely not asleep.
The yellow cat stropped past Maks’s shins; Maks cracked his eyes open in a kind of bleary surprise.
Katie leaned against the door frame between the living room and the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a mug of early-morning hot chocolate. “You should eat something.”
How she understood that infinitesimal shift of his head to be a refusal to do any such thing, she wasn’t sure. She raked her eyes over the length of him, taking up more room than the couch had to offer, and didn’t even have to delve into her healer’s perceptions to see what the day before had taken from him. “If you’re hurting—” If. Right. “—I can help you.”
She barely heard his response, a raspy murmur that added up to another shake of the head. She set the mug down on the little entertainment stand and took a frustrated step in his direction.
His eyes widened, the tiger looking out with alarm; he lurched to his feet and headed for the door, ragged words in his wake. “Can’t risk it.”
Her temper flared at
“Maks Altán,” she said, and touched his face again. “You told me what you do. It’s not the same thing.”
* * *
She’d said something he hadn’t expected to hear, Katie knew that much. She’d known enough to give him space after that, too—disentangling, still full of her own hot confusion.
He’d barely touched her. And yet, there she’d been...sated on the front porch, in the arms of a tiger.
One who’d known how to tame the deer, fear and all.
Later, wandering her loft bedroom while Maks slept in that cluttered first-floor bedroom—she had no idea how to put it all together. Unlike Maks, she couldn’t just accept without understanding. She needed to know that he’d come to respect her seeings and her healing, in the wake of so many little subtle indications to the contrary. She needed to know why her vision had grown so intense...and her body so needy. And she needed to know how—and why —Maks figured into the other things she’d seen. Because it was her job to understand what the warnings meant.
Pretty full of yourself, Katie Rae. Her job was—and always had been—to report what she saw and let brevis sort it out. She might have more practice at that if she hadn’t been looking aside from herself for so long. Squelching herself.
She couldn’t quite blame her neglected talent for failing to fall into line, but it meant she had nothing to work with but disparate pieces. Maks. Glinting metal and splashing blood, a blur of startled green eyes, a muted roar and a cry of pain. The Core at the back of her house, leaving an amulet of silent menace. Images of oppressive dark space and terror, a deep stabbing awareness of wrong...
Nick Carter had no doubt hoped there was nothing amiss here at all—no doubt hoped this assignment would be an easy reintroduction to the field for a recovering Sentinel. But she didn’t imagine he knew just how deeply compromised Maks had become.
And no matter how many times she put all the facts together in her thoughts, rolled them together and tossed them out again, they didn’t fall into any neat pattern. They didn’t tell her what to do next.
They didn’t let her sleep.
Then again, maybe that was for the best. It let her watch while her wounded tiger slept.
Chapter 8
M orning found Maks back on the couch, and Katie at the end of her rope.
She didn’t know where he’d spent the night after she’d left him, or how—whether it had been indoors or out, man or tiger. She only knew his misery was obvious.
But he wouldn’t talk to her. And while in some part of her mind she understood that he’d been through too much in the past twenty-four hours, the rest of her thought she deserved better.
He lay slanted across the couch, his arm cradled and his breathing too uneven for him to be asleep. His brows drew together briefly even as she watched; his breath hitched.
Definitely not asleep.
The yellow cat stropped past Maks’s shins; Maks cracked his eyes open in a kind of bleary surprise.
Katie leaned against the door frame between the living room and the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a mug of early-morning hot chocolate. “You should eat something.”
How she understood that infinitesimal shift of his head to be a refusal to do any such thing, she wasn’t sure. She raked her eyes over the length of him, taking up more room than the couch had to offer, and didn’t even have to delve into her healer’s perceptions to see what the day before had taken from him. “If you’re hurting—” If. Right. “—I can help you.”
She barely heard his response, a raspy murmur that added up to another shake of the head. She set the mug down on the little entertainment stand and took a frustrated step in his direction.
His eyes widened, the tiger looking out with alarm; he lurched to his feet and headed for the door, ragged words in his wake. “Can’t risk it.”
Her temper flared at
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