Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3) - Nalini Singh Page 0,82

of that night in the substation when she’d screamed and screamed and he’d caught a hint of a scent on her that wasn’t her own. A dark and ugly scent. It had happened again that first session with Amara, but he’d shrugged it off as an artifact from Amara herself, an imprint left behind even though the scientist had departed the cabin.

“Are they isolating her?” His claws dug deeper into the tree trunk. “She needs people.” His lioness had spent too long alone, was never happier than when surrounded by others.

Riaz was enjoying laughing at Alexei at present, but his fellow lieutenant also let Alexei know how Memory was doing during the times she interacted with him. “She’s hardly ever alone,” the other man had said after a recent patrol shift. “The others gravitate toward her porch and my wolf can feel her delight in their visits. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was part-changeling.”

Alexei had seen the same on his own visits, had found himself thinking that she’d love living in a wolf den. She’d probably join up with the maternal cabal and delight in sweetly interfering in the lives of her packmates. He’d made a bet with himself that Memory not only sushi-rolled her towels and put rose petals in with her clothes, she did the same for her friends.

She shouldn’t be sitting dejected, her aloneness an acute ache in the air.

“These are Es, Alexei,” Jaya reminded him. “They’re horrified by their behavior after they recover from brushing up against that awful cold nothingness, and then they fall over themselves apologizing, but it hurts Memory all the same.”

Jaw a brutal line, Alexei said, “I’m taking her out of here for the night.” Away from people who hurt her even if they didn’t mean to, and into the world of his wolf.

Jaya’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, you realize she curses your name on a daily basis?”

Alexei’s wolf bared its teeth inside him. “Good.” Anger fueled Memory’s strength.

* * *

• • •

MEMORY scuffed at the grass with one sneakered foot. She’d scared Cordelia today, and Cordelia was an intensely kind soul destined to be a medical E. Four hours ago, the other woman had made inadvertent physical contact with Memory after a session with Amara. Memory’s friend had whimpered, then thrown up.

Poor Cordelia had come by again not long ago, tears rolling down her sweet round face and her creamy skin blotchy. “I’m so sorry, Memory. I don’t know why I reacted that way. I’m so sorry.”

Memory had hugged Cordelia to show her there were no hard feelings, but as late afternoon darkened into early evening, she faced an unpalatable truth that had nothing to do with Renault’s subtle attacks on her confidence: her kind of darkness didn’t fit with the sunshine and warmth of Designation E.

She was the ugly stepchild.

No, that wasn’t fair to her fellow Es, her friends. Not one of them had been anything but mortified by their behavior. It didn’t matter how Memory tried to explain that it had to do with her and the echo of her work with Amara, they still looked like kicked puppies, all bruised eyes and shame.

How could she live in this community when she gave her friends nightmares?

A kiss of primal wildness against her senses, an edgy wolfish scent.

Memory gripped one of the posts that held up the porch roof and refused to look. Not even when a pair of scuffed boots stopped in front of her. “Nice skirt.”

Memory was wearing an ankle-length skirt in silvery white that was all air and clouds. She’d found it at a cut-rate price on a site that sold “seconds and remainders”—the idea of rescuing slightly blemished clothes from being discarded made her even happier than buying shiny, perfect things, and it was now her favorite site.

The “blemish” on this piece was a small drop of pink paint on the hem. To Memory, that just made the skirt even more wonderful and unique.

Her fellow Es had been agog the first time she’d worn it. At least that was one thing she’d changed for the better—the sedate Psy dress code was well on its way out of the compound. Cordelia had begun ordering colorful dresses with flared skirts and Joseph had found Hawaiian shirts, while Reema had discovered the joys of makeup.

Only the Arrows remained black-clad and unmoved by the change, but Memory was working on that. After discovering that it was Yuri’s birthday a few days back, she’d bought him a long-sleeved