Shards of Hope (Page 127)

Sahara’s lips curved. “I’ve always found the Ghost mysterious and deliciously sexy.”

Kaleb kissed her, her smile sunlight in the dark, twisted places inside him.

Chapter 66

“NOW THAT YOU and Zaira are a unit, Ivy and I can step out of the media spotlight,” Vasic said to Aden as the two of them put together another cabin the day following Aden’s return from New York.

Amin’s latest report stated that Blake had been corralled to within a five-block perimeter. It was now a matter of pinning him down. As for the conspiracy and the race to find Persephone, Zaira had already set multiple data-gathering operations in progress, and Aden had spoken to a number of sources earlier in the day.

Everything that could be was in play.

The afternoon belonged to the valley and to his Arrows. Difficult as the decision was for Aden to make, given how deeply Persephone’s imprisonment reminded him of Zaira’s childhood, he couldn’t ignore all the other children in his care. Each and every one was just as vulnerable—ignoring them now would undo all progress to date. These children expected betrayal, expected rejection.

Aden would not put another scar on their hearts.

Zaira had agreed with him, saying she’d prefer to work in the valley than go around in circles getting angrier and angrier at the lack of any viable leads.

“It’s not that easy,” he said in response to Vasic’s statement, part of him still thinking about Persephone and considering if they’d left any stone unturned in their search for the innocent little girl. Losing her to the monsters would devastate Zaira.

The idea of a child dying in a cage was her personal nightmare.

Jaw muscles tense, he returned to his conversation with Vasic. “Ivy makes you far more accessible to the public at large.”

“While Zaira is seen as a threat,” Vasic said, going down to pet Rabbit when the dog dropped a piece of wood at his feet in an attempt to be helpful. “Devoted to keeping you safe, but a threat nonetheless.” He looked up at Aden from his crouched position, his eyes no longer remote and cold as they’d once been. “That’s good. Your mate should be a blade in her own right.”

Yes, she was a blade. Dangerous and devoted and passionate.

Aden.

Turning at her voice in his mind, he saw her walking toward him. He wiped the sweat off his brow using the back of his hand, his T-shirt sticking to his body, and waited for her to reach him. He liked watching her move, whether it was in combat or in life. She was so fluid, so light on her feet, her body all curves that belied the lethal focus in her eyes.

She’d changed out of her Arrow uniform after leaving the empty Venice compound under Mica’s watch, was dressed in old brown cargo pants and a white T-shirt that had streaks of dirt on it from the work she’d been doing helping Ivy and the children with the garden plots. He’d heard Ivy’s laugh ripple out more than once, the two women clearly having become closer friends than he’d realized. Because, while Zaira didn’t laugh, she’d been involved in conversation with Ivy every time he glanced over.

Reaching him, she stopped with her boots touching his and a starkness in her eyes. “I need you.” The memories are haunting me.

Not stopping to think about it, he gathered her against him, her own arms coming around him in a steely grip. Stroking his hand over her hair, he spoke softly to her. “Are your PsyNet shields holding?” He knew it was important to her that her emotions remain private from the world. If she needed it, he could wrap his own around hers temporarily.

A nod against him. “I just needed you.” Her hand fisted in his T-shirt. “Ivy says craving such contact isn’t a weakness, that we’ve all been starved of it all our lives.”

“Yes.” He ran his hand down her back, allowed her to sense his own need through their psychic connection. It wasn’t a true bond, not with Zaira’s mind shut to his except for a narrow pathway, but it was enough to wet his parched soul. If that was all she could ever give him, it would hurt him deep within, but he’d never blame her for it.

Zaira had had her ability to trust ground into dust long before they’d met. Yet despite everything, she’d stayed, was fighting for him and the life they could have together. He knew she’d spoken to Ivy, intended to continue working with the empath to find a way to handle the rage that kept stealing her reason without warning. It would’ve been so much easier and safer for her to have backed off, but she had immense courage, his Zaira.

And she loved him in every way she could.

Today, she drew away after another five minutes of silent togetherness. Touching his unshaven jaw in an unexpected caress, she went back to Ivy and the children. Aden was aware of multiple Arrows watching her and him in turn, but he returned to his task without saying anything. He couldn’t teach or train his brethren for this aspect of life—each Arrow had to come to his or her own conclusions and decisions on the matter, though if one approached him, he would share everything that wasn’t private.

A few minutes later, he became aware of another presence at his side.

Looking down, he found a child staring up at him. She had dirt on her T-shirt, too, her pale blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail and her feet in child-sized boots.

“Where’s your helmet?” All the children had been taught that if they came near the ongoing work sites, they were to wear helmets.

Huge blue eyes blinked rapidly before she rubbed away a speck of dirt that was hanging off one lash. “I forgot.”

“Aden.”

Catching the small helmet Vasic threw him, having ’ported it in during the conversation, Aden handed it to the child who he now knew was named Carolina. He hadn’t had to access the records for that data—Zaira had telepathed the name to him a second ago, because regardless of how Zaira saw herself, children saw her as safe.