Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3) - Nalini Singh Page 0,38
the snowy field, the way the deadly alpha flowed with predatory grace.
Memory’s body didn’t function the same, hadn’t done so for the past year. She was uncoordinated and imprecise at times, her limbs not obeying the dictates of her mind. She hated the idea that Renault’s psychic assaults had permanently damaged her, but she had to know.
“Can we go inside?” The words came out husky, her throat rough from the scream.
“Of course.”
Memory led the nurse inside without further words. She was aware of Alexei and the alpha wolf coming to stand in the substation doorway—which they propped open—and knew it was because they didn’t trust her with Lucy. It hurt her under her simmering anger at the world, but paradoxically, she was glad of their presence.
She had no way of knowing what Renault had planted in her head. She’d been his puppet for fifteen years. He’d dug around in her brain as if it were his personal playground—the only thing that had put any kind of a limit on his invasions had been the risk of permanently injuring her ability.
He needed what she could do. He needed her darkness.
Once inside the bedroom, she cooperated with all of Lucy’s tests, even when the other woman asked to take a blood sample. “I want a copy of your results,” she said to Lucy. “I need to know myself.”
“Standard procedure,” Lucy assured her, taking the blood sample with gentle competence. “Just so you know, changeling healers kind of sit outside the power structure of a pack.” She put the sample away in a special case. “We don’t get involved in politics and we ignore the rules, except when it comes to the safety of the pack. Our priority is the patient.”
Memory wondered if she’d fall under the single caveat. Would her blood show a risk to the pack? She couldn’t see how. Renault’s abuses and manipulations had been mental. It was her own private darkness that lived in her blood, a secret ugliness she could never expose to the world.
“Done.” After putting away her tools, Lucy opened up another compartment in her rucksack. “You’re underweight and slightly malnourished, but not enough for it to be dangerous. Especially if I get you on a replacement routine.” She passed over a small, sealed box. “One sachet into a glass of water, mix, and drink with every meal.”
The box had the markings of a commercial health firm and appeared to be nothing but a potent mix of vitamins and minerals. “Thank you,” she said to this wolf who had been nothing but kind; her throat felt thick, her eyes hot.
Lucy patted her hand with a firm, comforting touch . . . and the tiny stabs stopped again. “I’ll have our nutritionist prepare a full meal-plan for you,” she said. “Sachets are just a stopgap.”
Mouth dry, Memory held out her hand. Lucy took it as if it was perfectly normal to have a stranger reach for physical contact. And the tiny stabs, they stopped again. Lucy maintained the contact while the two of them spoke about pragmatic things such as protein and carbohydrates. “Touch is important for healing, too,” Lucy murmured at the end, the comment a private one between them. “Wolves go crazy without it. I’ve heard Es are the same.”
Memory broke the contact with a jerking motion. The tiny stabs returned alongside her knowledge that she was no E, didn’t deserve this kind of sympathy and care.
Lucy didn’t demand that Memory explain her sudden movement. Instead she said, “Do you have any final questions for me?”
Swallowing to wet a dry throat, Memory made herself ask. “The way I move . . .”
“All your reflexes are within the normal range,” Lucy said at once. “Our senior healer is going to go over all the data I’ve collected today, and she’ll get in touch with you if there’s anything to discuss, but I see no signs of permanent damage.” Kind eyes, soft voice. “Have you begun to move better since your rescue?”
“Yes, a little.”
“That’s an excellent sign. No M-Psy will tell you this, but the body and the soul are as deeply connected as the body and the mind.” She closed her hand over Memory’s again, after first catching Memory’s eye in a silent request for permission that Memory couldn’t withhold, not with a wolf so intensely kind that it was a song in the air around her. “It might be that the way you move was a subconscious rebellion against your captor—to make things harder for