Allegiance of Honor (Psy-Changeling #15) - Nalini Singh Page 0,52
injuring her would significantly affect NightStar’s bottom line. However, that risk was nowhere near what it would be should NightStar’s enemies realize Anthony would strike terrible bargains to keep her safe. No outsider could ever know that Anthony Kyriakus, head of PsyClan NightStar, former Psy Councilor, and current member of the Ruling Coalition, loved his children.
Her father entered at that instant, a tall man with patrician features and black hair silvered at the temples, his expression the epitome of cool Silence. “Vaughn. Faith.”
Safe inside the windowless meeting room devoid of monitoring equipment, Faith hugged a man who had been too long in Silence to easily show emotion. But his arms came around her, his scent familiar, and his voice deep as he said, “You’re well?” The simple, toneless question held such a weight of love that it made a knot form in her chest.
Swallowing, she drew back to look up into his face. “Yes, Father. I’m well.”
Scanning her face, Anthony said, “I see signs of strain.”
“I had a marathon session yesterday,” she admitted. “Nothing dangerous. Vaughn was working nearby the whole time and he made me take regular breaks.”
“I had to physically disrupt her trance,” Vaughn muttered, his scowl in his voice.
“Everything was flowing so beautifully, I wanted to keep going. But”—she held up her hands when her father would’ve spoken—“I’m having a break today and tomorrow to recharge.”
Psychic power burned energy, but in the case of the darker visions of violence and murder and natural disasters, it was also viscerally draining. Such visions haunted her for weeks afterward. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen anything too distressing of late, only small warnings she’d been able to pass on so people could avoid bone-breaking accidents or personal catastrophes.
“Faith.” Anthony held her eyes with the brown of his, the charisma in his gaze potent. “I know you disliked the Tec 3 uplinked chair you had in your cabin—”
“‘Dislike’ is too weak a word.” The tiny hairs on her arms rising in cold warning, Faith shifted back to stand with Vaughn.
Her mate immediately wrapped one arm across the top of her chest to tug her against the muscled strength of his body. It was a silent promise. A deadly one, too, should it be necessary.
Air rushed back into her body, the painful tightness in her chest melting away. “I hate that chair.” A full-length recliner shaped to her personal body contours, it had monitored and transmitted every breath she took while using it during the cold years she’d spent isolated in a one-person cabin.
“You hated the intrusion, the fact that the data was fed to the medics,” her father countered. “The chair itself would be invaluable to anyone who needs to monitor your well-being.” His eyes went to Vaughn.
The jaguar who belonged to Faith brushed his fingers over her collarbone, a DarkRiver cat calming his mate. “I don’t need technology to make sure Faith is safe during her visions.”
“He really doesn’t,” Faith reassured her father.
Despite her strong negative reaction to the idea of a Tec 3 uplinked recliner, she knew Anthony only wanted the best for her, that every action he’d ever taken in relation to his children had been to protect. Losing her half sister Marine to a psychopath had honed that protectiveness to a deadly edge.
“I’m safe,” she said. “I promise.” She couldn’t control the dark or wild visions, but she never went into a controlled one unless Vaughn was nearby.
“I know the bond you two share is powerful,” her father replied, “but Vaughn, you can’t monitor every aspect of her health.”
Faith realized her father had no framework for understanding the beauty and intensity of the mating bond. Deciding not to push the point, she said, “Do you need to get rid of my old chair?”
“No.” Anthony’s tone was so cool she felt chastened for her flip response. “We have three prototype next-generation recliners with top-of-the-line health-monitoring functions, including a direct emergency link to a medic if your vitals drop below a certain point. I want you to have one.”
Faith’s skin crawled at the idea of once again using a chair that spied on her. She opened her mouth to speak but Vaughn beat her to it. “Give us a minute, Anthony.”
Her father left the room without further words, pulling the door shut behind himself.
“I don’t want that chair.” Arms folded, Faith glared at her mate.
“Red, you can turn off the monitoring functions, right?”
She stayed stubbornly silent until Vaughn brushed his fingers over her jaw in a caress that she knew came