Allegiance of Honor (Psy-Changeling #15) - Nalini Singh Page 0,53

from the heart of his jaguar. “Yes,” she admitted. “We can take out the chip, lobotomize it.”

“So”—Vaughn cupped her cheek, ran his thumb over her cheekbone—“you accept your dad’s gift. He’s not the most warm and cuddly guy, but you’re his little girl. He’s just trying to look after you, same as Lucas does with Naya.”

Her lower lip trembled. She’d been so locked up inside the memories of how much she’d hated that chair that she’d forgotten why it had been created in the first place. So she’d be safe. “I love you.”

Vaughn’s smile was pure feline smugness. “I know.”

She mock-punched him before opening the door to let her father back in.

“I’ll try the chair on a probationary basis.” Too easy a capitulation would make Anthony suspicious. “We’ll also be disabling all broadcast functions. Any data it collects”—which would be zero—“will be kept strictly local to our home.”

“I don’t want to monitor you, Faith. I just want you to have all possible safeguards.”

Faith gave in and hugged her remote, dangerous, loving father again. “Thank you.”

He touched the back of her head before looking toward the door. A light knock came seconds later. Though the two of them drew apart, Anthony didn’t speak or go to the door. When it opened, Faith realized he must’ve answered telepathically. No one in NightStar would ever barge in on her father.

“Sir.” The six-foot-tall young male who spoke was striking, with Anthony’s patrician bones under mocha-colored skin, his hair black and tightly curled. He was a Ps-Psy, gifted in psychometry . . . and he was her younger brother.

“Tanique,” Anthony said. “You know your half sibling Faith and her mate Vaughn D’Angelo.”

Tanique greeted Vaughn with a polite nod, but his attention was on Faith. “I’ve wanted to speak properly with you for a long time.”

“I feel the same.” Faith reached out her hands before she remembered Tanique had been raised in Silence and, unlike her, hadn’t left the Net to join a changeling pack where touch was an essential and everyday part of life.

Any post-Silence changes in her brother would be slow and hesitant.

Dropping her hands, she said, “You’re permanently at NightStar now?” All adult Psy could choose the side of their family line with which they preferred to align themselves. Tanique had done it, not at eighteen but later. Regardless, Anthony would’ve paid a penalty to the family who had raised and educated him but would no longer have the benefit of his abilities.

Thirty was the point at which such considerations no longer applied.

Tanique was barely twenty-four and a half.

“Yes,” he said. “NightStar is my home base, though I do travel.” Her brother continued to look at her with beautiful eyes of a pale tawny brown that made his face even more striking. They were almost feline, her brother’s eyes, with fine striations of darker brown and yellow in the irises.

Faith got the impression that he was as curious about her as she was about him.

“My skill set meshes far better with F-Psy than with the telepathic abilities prevalent in my maternal line,” he added in a voice that reminded her of Anthony’s, only younger. “They didn’t know quite how to make use of me, but Father does. I do a little work for private collectors, but the bulk of what I do involves museums that wish to verify the provenance of exhibits or items the institutions wish to purchase.”

Faith shook her head, her pride in her brother a tidal wave of pressure against her heart. “That’s not all you do,” she corrected. “I know you’ve helped find more than one lost or kidnapped child.”

Tanique didn’t blink or shift position, but she caught a subtle change in his expression. “Father’s taught me that we aren’t only machines bound to our gifts.” A glance at their shared father that held unhidden respect. “Yes, we need to support ourselves, but we can also choose to use our abilities in ways that are good for society . . . and for our spirits,” he finished hesitantly.

At that instant, Faith saw only a younger brother still struggling to find his footing, not the gifted Ps-Psy who’d once carried a child a mile out of a dense jungle after picking up a lost backpack and catching a glimpse of where the child’s abductor had taken him.

“Choosing to do the right thing can be hard at times,” she said softly, “but it’s worth it.” The dark visions used to leave her crumpled in a fetal ball until she accepted them