Hostage to Pleasure (20 page)

His eyes narrowed, but the cat was delighted at what it considered “play.” “Tammy needs to know what you told me about Keenan.”

For a moment, it looked as if she’d refuse. But then she nodded and complied. “If this ever happens again, and I’m out of contact, get one of the Psy in your pack to do a telepathic blast. It’s a very loud noise on the psychic plane. Or”—she paused, glanced at Dorian—“you could shake him awake via whatever network it is that he’s linked into.”

Dorian shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Keenan is no longer in the PsyNet,” she said. “Psy need biofeedback to survive. Which means—since he’s alive and well—that you’ve found an alternate way to feed his mind, just as your pack feeds Sascha’s and Faith’s minds.” Her words were staccato, perfectly enunciated. “You’re lying to me.”

Dorian stepped closer, until they were toe to toe. “So?”

She blinked, as if caught by surprise. “So don’t treat me like an imbecile.”

“Then don’t ask questions to which you haven’t earned an answer.” Ashaya might love her son, but too many questions remained. It was one thing for him to kiss her, quite another to trust her with information that could be used to hurt the pack. Especially when she kept her secrets. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming, Ms. Aleine.”

“Why would I want to share anything with a man who yells at me twenty-three hours of every day, then kisses me?”

A pointed cough had him snapping his head toward Tamsyn. The DarkRiver healer’s face held open interest. He felt his jaw set. “Leave it,” he said, turning on his heel and pulling out his cell phone at the same time. “I’ll call and reschedule Ashaya’s meeting.” He pushed through the back door, heading out into the yard.

Leave it, he’d said to Tammy. But he knew she wouldn’t. Pack was family. But it was also a pain in the ass sometimes. Hell, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening with him and Ashaya. He didn’t need anyone else pointing that out. Nor did he need their censure.

Not when Kylie’s ghost berated him with every breath he took.

Yeah, he knew exactly how big a mess this was.

 
Ashaya looked across the counter to the tall brunette who’d been taking care of her son. “Thank you for what you’ve done for Keenan.”

“He’s a child,” came the response. “There was no other choice.”

“Even when he might be a child who could hurt your own?”

The woman named Tamsyn walked to the eco-cooler and pulled out a gallon of milk. “I don’t think Keenan would do anything on purpose. Like my cubs would never seek to use their claws and teeth to maul a human playmate. That doesn’t change the fact that they
do
have those claws and teeth.” Putting the milk on the counter, she went to grab containers of cereal as well as a loaf of bread.

“He has control,” Ashaya argued. “My son has more control than any child his age should have.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” Tamsyn put several bowls and spoons on the counter. “Could you set the table?”

Ashaya did as asked.

“Does he need to have that control?” Tamsyn asked, betraying a knowledge of Silence that didn’t surprise Ashaya, not when DarkRiver was home to two incredibly powerful Psy. Sascha Duncan was rumored to possess an ability that wasn’t in any of the classification charts, while Faith NightStar saw the future itself.

“Not in the sense that his abilities are dangerous,” she said.

“But?” The other woman’s eyes were dark, intent.

“But he needs the control right now.” Ashaya decided to stick to the bare facts. “There are those who would track him.” If Amara got her hands on Keenan—She cut off that line of thought before it could attract the very person she wanted to avoid. “I’m working to ensure his safety, but until then, he has to be very careful how much of himself he reveals on a telepathic level.” Technically, Amara’s telepathy was as weak as Ashaya’s, but Ashaya had learned to never underestimate her twin.

Tamsyn folded her arms. “I accept that. But let me tell you something, Ashaya—I love kids. I won’t stand for his being in pain.”

“Good.”

“You know,” the other woman said, breaking into a sudden smile, “I think you and Tally will get on very, very well.”

Right then, Dorian walked back in. “I’ve rescheduled—had to move the meeting to a central location to accommodate your guest. We have to get going.”

“Give me a minute.” Making her way to the living room, she found Keenan seated quietly in front of Kit, absorbed by the fluid movement of Kit’s hands.

A coin trick, she saw a moment later.

Keenan’s fascination was no surprise—her baby had always been attracted to shiny things. A small flaw, negligible in a child. Only Ashaya had wondered if the predilection arose from the secret he carried within. The shiny things would reflect attention off him, making him invisible. Or perhaps, she thought as she knelt beside him, she was seeing too much into a child’s simple pleasures.

“You’re going,” he guessed, lips trembling for an instant before he bit down, reining in his emotions.

Her heart hurt. One day, she promised silently, one day, he wouldn’t have to hide anything. “But I’ll be back.” It was out before she could censor herself. So she didn’t even try. Raising her hand, she cupped his cheek as she hadn’t dared to do for so many years. “Be good, little man. I return tonight.”

Thin arms wrapped around her neck with surprising strength. “I’ll wait for you . . . Mommy.”

 
They were in the car before Ashaya allowed the impact of those words to filter through her. How would it affect Keenan if she didn’t return as she’d promised—tonight or any other night? “Will you look after my son if I don’t make it?”

Dorian’s jaw firmed to a tight line. “The fact you need to ask that tells me how little you know about DarkRiver. And no one’s touching you while I’m around.”

She didn’t know where her next words came from. “You’re the only one allowed to execute me if I prove a traitor?”

His lips twitched. “Yes. So you be good, too.”

Feeling the quicksand shifting under her feet, she took a step back. “You didn’t tell me who this meeting was with.”

He made a sound of disappointment at her retreat. “Kiss me and I’ll talk.”

She knew he was trying to annoy her on purpose. “Do cats take pleasure in being inscrutable?”

“Maybe. How’s the DNA voodoo going?” Amusement, not mockery.

She didn’t blame him for his disbelief—to him, her avowed ability had to stretch the bounds of impossibility. But to her, it made perfect sense, being the extreme end of the M-Psy spectrum. “It’s a slow process. Do you think I could get a control sample from one of your packmates for comparison?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “It’s not like the Psy haven’t got our DNA already.”

“I was never in that field of research.”

“Field?”

“Biological weapons designed specifically to target your populations.”

Dorian’s hands clenched on the manual controls. “We guessed, but no one’s ever been able to confirm.”

“That outbreak of virulent flu in Nova Scotia three years ago? It was meant to be limited to the changelings in the area.” She finally felt as if she was giving DarkRiver something of value in return for the priceless gift they’d given her in protecting Keenan.

Dorian whistled. “It spread—to humans and then the Psy. Damn, I was right.”

“About what?”

“You first.”

Curious, she decided to cooperate. “What the scientists working on these projects don’t seem to accept—and I don’t know if it’s willful blindness, or an inability to see the obvious because of bias—is that despite our racial differences, we are one species. It’s why we can interbreed. Our genes are simply expressed in different forms.”

“You can’t engineer a virus to affect one without affecting the others?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought about Omega,” Dorian said. “It was never about controlling the Psy, but the world.” He glanced at her, smiling in a way that made her stomach feel all tight and hot. “Bet you didn’t think us nonscientist types could figure that out.”

Again, the words came out without thought, born in that cluster of neurons that sparked for him alone. “Bet you didn’t know anything about Omega before my broadcast.”

“You win . . . this time.” He smiled, but his next question was serious. “Is there any chance that you’re wrong and a completed virus exists?”

Ashaya lied without a pause. “No.” On this one subject, he’d have to earn her utter, unflinching loyalty before she trusted him. And it wasn’t exactly a lie. Because there
was
no Omega virus. There was something worse.

Dorian didn’t say anything for several minutes. “You’re lying, Shaya.”

Her palms dampened. “Excuse me?”

“Stop freaking out.” Reaching over, he slid his hand behind her nape, tugged her to him, and nipped at her lower lip, startling her into a gasp. “I’ve decided not to kill you, whatever happens.” He released her. “I’ll just keep you in my personal dungeon instead.”

Ashaya swallowed, her wires completely scrambled by the raw hunger of that kiss—and the teasing amusement in his voice.

“Whatever it is you’re hiding,” he said, turning into a busy street in Chinatown, “I’ll figure it out.”

The warning was enough to snap her brain back into action. “There’s nothing to figure out.” People crossed in front of them, paying no heed to the traffic signals. “This area of the city is notoriously chaotic. Why here for the meeting?”

“Because”—he beeped the horn and the wave of humanity parted—“Psy don’t like chaos.” He rolled down the window as they passed and called out a greeting in what she thought might be Cantonese.

It felt like several thousand people responded. But only one lanky boy ran up to them. “Hey, Dorian.” The youngster’s face was bright with mischief, his eyes sparkling obsidian in a face that spoke of eastern shores and California sun all in one fine-boned package. “We had some folk”—his eyes flicked to Ashaya—“come around asking about her. They showed her picture around.”

CHAPTER 24

 
—Encrypted e-mail sent from the sunken city of Venice to unknown number of recipients in San Francisco

 
 
“Human?” Dorian asked, recalling the Rats’ tip about humans asking after Ashaya.

“No. Like her.”

“They get anything?”

The boy looked insulted. “Hell, no.”

“Watch the language, Jimmy. I know your mother.”

The teenager rolled his eyes. “They asked about your sexy girlfriend”—a mischievous grin—“but it’s
amazing
how many people are shortsighted around here. Man, it’s like an epidemic or something.”

“Maybe we should hire an optometrist,” Dorian said dryly.

“If you do, tell the doc the shortsightedness comes on without warning, and seems to affect dozens of people at a time.” Grinning, Jimmy glanced down the street. “Some traffic coming up. Anyway, we’ll let you know if they come back.” He slipped away, merging expertly into the energetic bustle of Chinatown.

Dorian rolled up his window and continued through the intersection. “No surprise they’re hunting you.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. A betraying gesture if he hadn’t already known her Silence for a sham. “You didn’t pay the boy for his information,” she said. “Isn’t that how it works?”

“Not here.” He turned down a narrow street lined with tea merchants on either side. “We’re part of Chinatown. We take care of them, they take of us.”

“They can’t be bought?”

“The relationship’s had over a decade to mature—the people round here know they can count on us when the shit hits the fan. We’ve busted heads for them, tracked down missing children, dragged others back to face judgment.” He shrugged. “So no, they can’t be bought. We’re family.”

“But only Pack is family for you.”

He reached over and ran his knuckles down the curve of her neck. A fleeting touch, but it took the edge off the escalating depth of his need. “Pack is family,” he said, knowing it was no longer a question of
if
, but
when
he’d have Ashaya in his bed. “But we can widen the net if we choose. And we stand by those who stand by us.

“Plus, some of them
are
Pack.” Dorian had first met Ria on these streets. Fully human, the vivacious brunette was now Lucas’s personal assistant and mated to a DarkRiver leopard. But the night Dorian had first seen her, she’d been crawling backward on her hands and feet in a dark alleyway, face bloodied and shirt ripped.

Her parents had fallen foul of some would-be shakedown artist and he’d decided to use her to teach them a lesson. A few years older at the time than Kit was now, Dorian had taken one look, picked the creep up, and thrown him against the nearest wall. It happened to be old-fashioned brick. The bastard had had twenty broken bones when they peeled him off the ground. “Who do you stand by, Shaya?”

The answer was unexpected. “Keenan, Amara, and a handful of others.”

“Good answer,” he said, conscious of the leopard padding restlessly around the cage of his body. The hunger to shift, to release the other half of his soul, was a familiar ache—the leopard had never truly understood that it couldn’t get out.

Thankfully, Ashaya spoke then. “Was it a test?” The blue ice and wild honey of her voice wrapped around the cat, soothing it into settling down.

“Don’t worry. You passed.” He shot her a grim look. “The Council didn’t have to resort to medical torture to hold you—you would’ve done it for the love of Keenan.”

“Yes. But they don’t comprehend love.”