Hostage to Pleasure (32 page)

“Seemed more like they were searching for someone.”

Dorian’s neck prickled. “Coordinates.”

The SnowDancer male rattled them off. At the same time, Dorian’s phone came to life in his hand. When he answered, it was to hear Lucas say, “Got reports of Psy activity on the borders.”

“Hold on.” He nodded his thanks to Andrew as the other man made good-bye motions. An instant later, the SnowDancer shifted in a shower of multicolored sparks and then a sleek silver wolf was shooting away in the opposite direction. “Luc, I think they’re tracking Ashaya, probably through her twin.” He’d already given his alpha a quick rundown on Amara’s psychic bond with Ashaya when Lucas had arrived with Sascha to drive Keenan up to the SnowDancer den.

Lucas swore softly. “What else have you got?”

Retrieving his knife from the tree trunk, he slid it back into a pocket while telling Lucas about Andrew’s inadvertent discovery. “If they have tracked Shaya here, might be they’re trying to cut off her escape routes, set it up so they can grab her outside our territory.” Not that it would work. Dorian would hunt down anyone who dared take his mate from him.

“Won’t happen. I’m on my way to have a chat with them.”

Dorian’s instincts, the instincts of a sentinel sworn to protect his alpha pair, awoke with a vengeance. “Who’s with you?”

“Mercy and Clay will have my back. Sascha’s going to stay out of sight and keep an eye out for any attempts at psychic interference.”

“Sascha’s a cardinal but she’s not trained in—”

“Did I tell you my mate’s been hanging around with the bloody assassin?” A growl.

Dorian calmed. “Judd’s been teaching her to scan for interference? Good.” He switched gears. “When did you get back from the SnowDancer den?”

“Half an hour ago. Sascha decided Keenan would take it better if we all treated his being in the den as a normal visit. Both Hawke and Judd have their eye on him, but the kid settled down easy as pie after he met Walker,” he said, referring to Judd’s older brother.

“None of us up there?” Dorian was sure the SnowDancers would look out for Keenan, but he didn’t want the boy to feel completely lost among strangers.

“Hawke thinks I have issues with trust, but I had Rina and Kit follow us up. Keenan knows Kit and it’s good training for both of them to spend some time with our main allies,” he said. “Look, I’m almost there. I’ll give you a call afterward.”

Dorian put the phone in his pocket and turned to find Ashaya in the open doorway. “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

“The other man left.” She held up the rifle he’d had stashed in his closet. “And I don’t have to be a good shot to hit a man from this distance.”

“Yeah?” He watched as she tried to tuck her hair behind her ears. The unruly stuff refused to stay in place, dancing gleefully in the quiet air currents rushing through the trees.

“I heard some of what you said—have they tracked me this far?”

He couldn’t lie to her. “Amara must’ve told them.”

“No.” A stubborn shake of her head. “She would never betray me.”

“Shaya—”

“No, Dorian.” Her hand clenched on the rifle and she frowned. “Even if they broke her mind, she’d find some way to misdirect them. This is too close—there’s too much of a chance they’ll actually locate me. Not like in the chaos of Chinatown.”

He was swayed by the sheer belief in her tone. “That leaves only one other option.”

She gave him a questioning glance as he got rid of some of the vegetation from his front wall to expose a window. “They’re not tracking you,” he said. “They’re tracking Amara.”

The rifle trembled in her hand. “I guess I knew that.”

“She in your head?” Walking up, he took the rifle and nudged her back inside.

“No.” She thrust both hands through her hair. “The psychic ‘door’ on my end of the bond is closed. I don’t know when or how that happened, but it doesn’t matter. We’re still aware of each other—she’s following that awareness.”

“Like a homing beacon.”

“Yes.”

Door closed, Dorian tapped in the security code and reinitiated the perimeter alarms. “Can you do it in reverse? Track her?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to.” Her cheekbones stood out sharply against her skin. “It’s dangerous. If I focus on her, I might open my end of the link. There’s no telling what she might attempt to send through or do. I can’t risk it when I don’t know how I blocked the link in the first place.”

“Fine. Andrew didn’t mention seeing her, so she can’t be too close. We have time.” He checked the rifle, then began to go through his other weapons, pausing only long enough to send Luc a quick message about the possibility of it being Amara the Council soldiers were tracking. “If you want to shower, do it now.”

She hesitated. “What if it’s a red herring and she’s going after Keenan?”

Instinct had him shaking his head. “Amara’s out for you.” And the boy was as safe as they could make him, protected by a pack that took threats against children very seriously.

Ashaya nodded. “I’ll be quick.” Her voice shook a little, but she was as good as her word, returning in seven minutes.

Dorian decided to take the chance to shower, too—Amara might not be changeling, but it’d be plain lazy not to worry about a scent trail. “Use the window to keep an eye out.” He put the rifle in her hands, kissed her because he missed having the taste of her in his mouth, and ducked into the shower.

Three minutes later, he was out and rubbing himself dry. “Shaya?”

“Nothing.” She poked her head around the door to give him a troubled look. “How can I still want you even when things are so out of control?”

Throwing the towel over a railing, he began to pull on his clothes. “I once heard Faith say that some things are set in stone.” Pants on, he tugged her to him with one hand behind the damp weight of her hair and took her mouth in a hotly protective caress. “We’re one of those things.”

She stayed in his arms for a few more seconds before pulling away. “You’re saying we were inevitable.”

“No.” He shook his head, shoving wet strands of hair off his face. “We made choices, you and I. But the time for choices is over.”

CHAPTER 38

How dare she?

In any other being, it might’ve been called anger, but what possessed Amara Aleine was a stunned kind of incomprehension. She literally couldn’t understand why Ashaya had made the choice she had. Ashaya was Amara’s. That was how it was. How it should be.

As she slogged her way painstakingly through the thick dark of the early morning forest—having been forced to abandon her stolen vehicle when the vegetation became too dense—she tried to order her thoughts, to find sense in the chaos. It was difficult. She wasn’t accustomed to being outside the lab, had never once in her life been in a place so very
quiet
. And yet it was a quiet filled with things that scurried and whispered, eyes glinting out from behind the massive bulk of the trees in her path.

The ground tried to trip her up every second step, and her hands were bruised from having caught several falls. If she hadn’t had Ashaya’s mind to guide her, she’d have been lost two minutes after she entered this place.

But even now, Ashaya was refusing to answer her calls, blocking her end of their bond. Her twin had been doing that sporadically for years, but today, Amara could feel an increase in intent. More than that, she could feel the other connection, the one that threatened to dilute Ashaya’s link to Amara until it faded entirely. And that was what Amara couldn’t comprehend.

She knew that Ashaya had always had a weakness for emotion. That was a given, part of her sister’s psyche. It interested Amara as everything about Ashaya interested her. But now Ashaya was doing things that defied the understanding between them. The worst thing was, she’d brought someone else into their game.

Amara tripped, fell heavily on one knee, and sat there until the physical pain became manageable. As she started walking again, the initially stiff joint loosened up. The second it did so, her attention shifted back to the real problem.

The third player in the triangle. The
threat
.

She patted the small lump in her pocket, checking to ensure the very special pressure injector, the one loaded with double the dose she’d used on the guards, hadn’t fallen out. One shot was all it would take to kill him. And then things would return to the way they had been. She wouldn’t be alone anymore, wouldn’t be trapped in the endless darkness, her voice Silenced, her other half sliced away with clean precision.

Being alone frightened her. It made her angry, too. Until she had to scream. And when she screamed, the crimson lash of blood stained the world.

Had Amara been rational enough to think, she would’ve questioned the eerie nature of her thoughts—she’d never felt emotion. Fear was as alien to her as anger. Yet both rode her now. However, Amara was no longer capable of seeing the disconnect. She’d stopped being rational a long time ago . . . since the day the DarkMind first whispered in her ear.

CHAPTER 39

 
—From the encrypted personal files of Ashaya Aleine

 
 
Despite the Psy soldiers’ night-vision equipment, Lucas had the clear advantage. This was his territory and he knew every inch of it. “Why shouldn’t we kill you?” he asked the black-garbed male who came forward to meet him.

“We have no quarrel with you.” The man’s eyes were flat, his voice toneless. “We ask permission to enter your territory to hunt a Psy fugitive.”

“Permission denied.” Lucas folded his arms. “I don’t make a habit of allowing enemies into my territory.”

“This fugitive may be dangerous to you and your people.”

Lucas smiled and it was nothing friendly. “Then the fugitive will die.”

“We would prefer to capture this one alive.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you—you don’t always get what you want?” He sensed Mercy moving around to flank the soldiers on one side, while Clay took the other. Desiree had proved available at the last minute and was holding a watch position high in the trees to Lucas’s back. She was a good shot—not sniper good like Dorian, but good enough to blow out Psy brains all over the forest floor.

“Cooperation will be noted by the Council,” the Psy male said.

Lucas felt a chill spread out from his heart. He let it feed into his eyes, into his voice. “Tell your Council that we never forget our dead. And we never forgive. Enrique might be gone, but the rest of them are still fair game.”

A silence and he knew the Psy man was telepathing. “Is that a threat?”

Lucas knew without a doubt that someone else was now looking out from behind those dark eyes. “No, simple fact. If your men aren’t out of here within the next ten minutes, blood will spill.”

“Your people will die, too.”

Lucas lifted an eyebrow. “It’s going to be night-dark for another hour at least, the forest is thick with trees, and we’re leopards in familiar territory. You want to take us on, go ahead.”

“This fugitive is extremely dangerous. If we leave, the responsibility for any deaths or injuries resulting from her being at large is yours.”

“Noted.” He paused. “But if you want her alive, give us an indication of how long since you lost her. Betters our chance of running her down—we’ve got no problem handing your mess back to you.”

A pause that spoke of decisions being made. “We believe she’s been in the forest for an hour maximum. She’s armed.” With that, the Psy soldiers left in military lines. Lucas scented Clay and Mercy escorting them out. “Dezi,” he said, after the echoes of their departure had faded from the earth beneath his feet.

Soft whispers of sound only an alpha would hear and then the vibration of Desiree’s feet hitting the earth. She walked around to stand beside him, long and lean, with bronze skin brushed with gold and waist-length hair braided into what looked like a thousand sleek plaits. Her rifle, she’d slung across her back. “I saw nothing suspicious.” She wrinkled her nose, green eyes so dark, they looked black in this light. “They smell like shit but that’s no news flash.”

Lucas nodded. These Psy had given off the cold metallic smell that made changeling stomachs turn. Vaughn’s theory was that it denoted Psy who were so deeply enmeshed in Silence, they’d never find a way out. “They weren’t lying about the fugitive. Think you might be able to pick up a trail?”

“Possible, but this group of lunkheads messed up the scent markers. If I go deeper, past their blanket of crap . . . maybe.”

Lucas pulled out his own cell. “I’m going to call Jamie and get more people out here,” he said, referring to Dezi’s training partner. “You start on the trail.” His grim mood turned to amusement as she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’ll call your mom, too, let her know you extended your shift.”

“Damn it.” She kicked at the blanket of pine needles on the forest floor. “I forgot my cell and she gets worried if I don’t check in after a night shift. I keep telling her it’s bad for my tough-ass image, but . . .”

“Meenakshi hasn’t quite gotten used to her delicate angel turning into a soldier.” In human form, Dezi’s mother was a petite powerhouse with Dezi’s skin and those startling green eyes she’d brought with her from a region in Kashmir. A star in the world of classical Indian dance, she loved both her mate and her daughter to pieces, but was still stunned her baby had grown up into such a lethal young woman. Not that Dezi couldn’t dance. “You were cute in a tutu.”

Desiree scowled. “Why don’t you ever forget shit?” She turned on her heel without waiting for an answer. “Should’ve been an elephant instead of a leopard.”