Psy & Changelings 06 - Branded by Fire

in a small, impermeable case.
    “Is it all good?” she asked Ashaya’s identical twin.
    Amara didn’t reply until she’d checked it under a microscope. “Yes.”
    Having a conversation with Amara was hard. She didn’t throw out verbal cues like most people—but at least she wasn’t homicidal any longer. “Anything you want me to take down to Ashaya?”
    Familiar blue-gray eyes looked into hers, but Mercy had a feeling she’d never mistake Amara’s gaze for Ashaya’s. “Not at this stage.”
    “Cool.” Nodding at the test tubes lined up on the workbench, she asked, “Looks interesting.”
    “Don’t worry,” Amara said, “I’m not creating another monster virus.”
    Since that was exactly what Mercy had been thinking, she grinned. “Never crossed my mind. What is it?”
    “A child’s game—to make colors.” She lifted a stunning blue one. “Copper sulphate.”
    “You don’t strike me as the playing type.”
    “A perceptive observation.” She put the test tube down next to one with a bright yellow compound inside. “But Sascha Duncan says I must try.”
    With any other person, Mercy would’ve waited for them to continue. With Amara, she had to be blunt. “Why?”
    “She says play appears to help with . . . emotion.” Shrugging, she picked up an empty test tube. “I don’t pretend to understand the workings of an E-Psy, but if I do this, she leaves me alone for a few days.”
    Mercy hadn’t known Sascha had been spending that much time with Amara—especially given what she knew of Sascha’s initial reaction to Amara’s absolute coldness. But their alpha’s mate was nothing if not determined. Amara needed to be helped in this unfamiliar new world, so Sascha was helping her. It was nothing more—and nothing less—than that. “Play teaches us things,” she said to Amara now. “It lets us try out ideas without worrying about whether they’ll work. Think of it as a creative form of brainstorming.”
    Amara stared at her. “That’s extremely astute.”
    “Somehow, I don’t think that was a compliment.”
    Amara said nothing. After a second, Mercy realized it was because she hadn’t asked a question. “Was it?”
    “Of a sort,” Amara said. “I thought changeling soldiers were pure brawn.”
    “Your sister’s mated to Dorian and you think that?” Her fellow sentinel was hella smart.
    “I still want to kill him sometimes, so Ashaya doesn’t leave us alone much.”
    Mercy’s lips twitched at the straightforward answer. “Don’t worry—he gives me homicidal thoughts at times, too.” Then she got serious. “Fight it. Fight whatever it is that wants to drag you down. Giving in is for wusses.”
    Isn’t that what you’re doing with Riley?
    Even as her mind bucked against that unexpected mental whisper, Amara blinked. “It’s no wonder my twin says you’re her favorite. She never gave up either. Even on me.”
    Deciding that would do for today, Mercy turned to leave—she couldn’t deal with her own rebellious thoughts and Amara at the same time.
    “Mercy?”
    She turned back at the door. “Yeah?”
    “Look.” Ashaya held up a new vial. “It’s the color of your hair.”
     
     
    Hawke strode toward the Laurens’ quarters—Sienna had chosen to remain with her uncle, Walker, his daughter, Marlee, and her own brother, Toby, even after she turned eighteen and was entitled to a separate one-bedroom unit in the den. Whatever else he might say about Sienna, one thing was undeniable—she was a good cousin, a good sister. Marlee and Toby both adored her. So, for that matter, did a lot of the other pups.
    Too bad she turned into a demon every time he came within breathing distance. “Riley’s right,” he muttered under his breath, staring at the closed door of the apartment. Half the reason Sienna was bent on driving him insane was that she had too much spare time on her hands.
    She was bright, and her uncles had ensured she was enrolled in a distance-learning degree course run by a major university. But that did nothing to release her physical energy. Indigo, too, had been nudging at Hawke to get Sienna into a position within the pack—because, for better or worse, she was now part of SnowDancer, and not being given a position was an insult.
    Hawke felt his jaw set. Insult or not, he had to balance the rights and well-being of every single member of the pack—Sienna had less control over her impulses than almost anyone else in her year group. He