Hostage to Pleasure (34 page)

“Will you tell me about her?”

He pulled her tighter against his warmth. “She was laughter,” he said, a painful roughness in his tone. “Nothing seemed to make her sad. The only time I ever saw Kylie cry as a child was after someone taunted me for not being able to shift.” His voice caught. “She was so mad. She said it didn’t matter to her, that I was the brother she would’ve chosen if she’d been given the choice. God, she was a fighter.”

Unbidden, an image formed in Ashaya’s head, of a girl with Dorian’s charm and mischief in her eyes. “Did she look like you?”

“Same hair, same eyes. But her smile—a knockout. She could talk anyone into anything.” A husky laugh. “Even when she pissed me off, she could make me smile. She’d tell me stupid ‘knock, knock’ jokes until I broke. Then she’d hug me, call me her favorite brother, and smile because she knew she was forgiven.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Ashaya swallowed the knot in her throat. “She was precious to you.”

“A piece of my heart died with her. I don’t know if it will ever grow back.”

“That’s okay,” she managed to whisper. “That piece was hers to take.”

“I miss her.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck as she rose on tiptoe to wrap her arms around him. “I miss her calling me up to pick her up from some club at one in the morning. I miss her telling me those stupid jokes. I miss her laugh. I miss her every damn minute of every day!” His body shuddered and damp heat bloomed against her neck.

Blinded by her own tears, she held this powerful leopard, this sentinel.

She held him as he cried . . . as he stole the last remaining pieces of her own heart.

 
Forty-five minutes later, Dorian watched dawn begin its stealthy creep across the sky and felt an odd kind of peace take hold in his heart. Perhaps it would last only a moment, perhaps longer. What mattered was that he knew the peace was a gift from the woman who moved so softly inside his home while he stood watch outside.

He’d tried to tell her to go back to sleep, but she’d shaken her head. Twice now, she’d come to tell him she could feel Amara getting closer. Once she’d worried that her twin was lost in the dark, a catch in her voice. When he heard her footsteps getting closer again, he expected another update.

But she exited with a cup of coffee in hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He looked intently at her, knowing he’d have to be careful with his mate—force of habit might make her hide what he needed to see. As he’d expected, her face bore no visible remnants of her sleepless night or the words spoken between them . . . until he looked into her eyes.

Those eyes, so fucking beautiful. Like one of the lakes up in the Sierra, before the snows. Silver-blue and so clear you could see the detail of every reflected leaf. “We’ll do everything we can to take her alive.”

A coolly Psy nod, but her hands had curled into fists.

“Lucas has her trail.” His alpha had called ten minutes ago to confirm the sighting. “I asked him to let her reach us.”

Her breath came out in a soft hush of sound. “Thank you.”

“Luc and Dezi are hanging back. They don’t want to chance being picked up by a telepathic scan.”

“That’s smart, but”—she shook her head—“I think she’s so focused on me at this point, she’s blind to anything else.”

“Yeah, that’s what Luc said.” He took a sip of his coffee, letting his gaze linger on her. She was beautiful in the muted hues between dark and dawn, would be glorious when the sun’s rays hit. “Apparently, she’s not making even an amateurish attempt to hide her trail. From what he saw while tracking her, it looks like she lost her way a couple of times, but then that internal compass between the two of you seems to have put her back on the right path.”

“I’m glad she’s not lost.” She took a hesitant step toward him. Exultation racing through his bloodstream, he shifted his coffee to his left hand and raised his right arm in welcome. It was another small surrender when she tucked her body against him.

But it wasn’t enough. Neither was the physical surrender she’d given him in bed. His beast growled, wanting more, wanting everything.

The hell of it was that he understood. The leopard wasn’t so civilized. “Can you feel this thing between us?”

A quiet nod. “What is it?”

“You know.”

“I can’t belong to you,” she whispered. “I can’t cut Amara free. Without me . . . she
will
become the creature Faith foresaw.”

“You already belong to me.” He wasn’t human, wasn’t Psy. And he wasn’t particularly worried about the niceties of acceptable behavior. “At some point, the leopard is going to take over and I’ll start hunting you.”

Her hand clenched on his chest. “I’m a psychic being. I can block you for as long as it takes.”

That was the real problem. The mating bond wasn’t an automatic thing. For it to come into full effect, both halves of the pair had to accept it. That acceptance could happen a thousand different ways, but he knew that with Sascha and Lucas, it had required a conscious choice on Sascha’s part. She’d had to decide to cut the life-giving PsyNet link and drop into Lucas’s arms.

Dorian knew in his gut that Ashaya needed to take that same leap of faith, of trust. “You can try, Shaya.” He shrugged. “But the mating bond’s already there, pulling at you. The more we touch, the more we share our secrets, the stronger it becomes. At some point, blocking it will become impossible.”

She turned slightly. “I can feel it
here
”—a fist pressed over her heart—“but I can’t see it on the psychic plane. I can sense it pulling at me harder and harder and yet there’s no possible way it could exist. You’re not in the Net. You’re not even a psychic being.”

He wondered which one of them she was trying to convince. “It exists the same way your bond with Keenan exists.” But the mating bond was a far harsher thing, a thing of claws and teeth, created with the raw fury of changeling possession, and the endless devotion of changeling heart. “Leopards don’t play nice when it comes to their mates. Wait too long and you’ll become prey.”

Ashaya felt the warning to the core of her being. Dorian was a sniper. He wouldn’t run her to ground. No, he’d wait, he’d stalk, and then he’d take. “We’ll see,” she said. The leopard was attempting to bring her to heel. But even in the PsyNet, she’d never been very good at obeying.

Dorian’s chuckle rolled like down her spine like a thousand tiny pinpricks. “You really like living dangerously, don’t you, gorgeous?”

It made her remember what he’d said in bed, about messing with a leopard. Her heartbeat jumped. “It does make for an exciting life.”

His hand moved to the back of her neck, tilting up her face. “And here I thought you were all about the science.” The kiss was slow, intimate, rich with the taste of coffee and Dorian.

She had no will to resist, didn’t know why she’d possibly want to. Such pleasure in her bones, in her blood, in the dip of her navel. Against her, he was all hard muscle and coiled power. If she had her way, she thought suddenly, she’d keep Dorian naked so she could indulge her hunger to simply watch that magnificent body flex and move.

There was an odd look in his eye when he raised his head. “I just had the strangest thought pop into my head.”

“Oh?” She found she was reaching for him, wanting another taste.

He continued to hold his coffee with one hand, but dipped his head to satisfy her, nipping at her lower lip as the kiss ended. “Yeah. I was thinking of walking around butt naked. Weird. I’m more interested in getting you—”

Ashaya knew she’d somehow given herself away when he stopped midsentence and whistled softly. “I wasn’t thinking that, was I?” His lips curved, a look that couldn’t be described as anything other than wicked coming into his eyes.

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

He smiled and it was so slow, so very male, that she thought her knees would buckle from the power of it. “Oh, but I do.” Nips at her lower lip, a catlike lick along the top one. “The mating bond’s starting to fight you.”

She found that she was stroking the skin of his neck, having learned he liked being touched that way. “Why would you assume that?”

“I ain’t no Psy, Ms. Aleine, but even us dumb animals know when two people start exchanging thoughts, something’s going on.”

She narrowed her eyes at his smug tone. “It was a coincidence.”

“Baby, when I think about my body, I don’t focus on my cock.”

Only years of controlling her reactions kept her from betraying the tight fist of need that formed in her stomach. “You think the bond’s functioning on some level.”

Another wicked, wicked smile. “Yeah. And I also think you’re hot for me.” He drew in a deep breath. “Fucking ambrosia.”

She’d forgotten about his sensory abilities. It made her cheeks heat in an unfamiliar physical reaction. But, it also made her . . . happy. An odd thought, a strange sense of warmth in her body. But true. She was happy because he was happy. Neither of them had spoken again about what had taken place in the dark hour before dawn. There was no need for it. They understood that he’d trusted her more than he’d ever trusted anyone . . . and that she’d die before she betrayed that trust.

Because, no matter the ties that kept her bound to the PsyNet, he was hers. And she was his.

No!
The vicious telepathic blow almost knocked her to the ground.

She clutched at Dorian, sensing his instant alertness. “She’s close enough for telepathy.” Close enough that though she couldn’t get into Ashaya’s mind, Amara could feel the weakening of the twin bond, the strengthening of something else. “Give me a second.” Blinking past the lights flickering in front of her eyes, she tried to quiet the adrenaline-spiked beat of her heart. “She wants you dead.” Ashaya’s soul screamed in repudiation.

“I can take care of myself.” Dorian urged her toward the door, handing her his cup. “Lock yourself in and—”

“No. I need to face her.” She put the cup just inside the doorway.

“You can do that after I have her contained.” Dorian was scanning the forest as he spoke, his nostrils flaring as he used every one of his superior senses. “I can’t be distracted worrying about keeping you safe.”

That made her mad. “I’m not useless, Dorian,” she said. “If you recall, I got out of the lab without your help.”

He shot her an irritated look. “You’re going to do the pissy woman routine
now
?”

“You’re hiding away the one individual who might be able to control Amara.” She stood toe-to-toe with him when he shifted to face her fully. “You’re being blinded by your protective instincts.”

“So?”

The lack of denial threw her. But only momentarily. “That’s stupid. I might be able to calm her before she incites a violent response in you.”

Dorian’s eyes glittered. “Shaya, she tortured you as a fucking experiment. I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

CHAPTER 41

 
—Handwritten letter signed “Iliana” circa October 2069

 
 
On guard against her twin this time, Ashaya rebuffed the telepathic blow. But Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “She’s hitting you hard.”

She stared out at the shadowed spaces dawn had yet to caress. “She sees you as competition.” Reaching out with her telepathic abilities, she tried to calm her twin’s erratic mind.

The mental cadence was off, the sound wrong. Amara was beyond listening. Ashaya looked at Dorian. “She won’t allow herself to be captured if she arrives to see you beside me. Take her in an ambush, bring her here. Don’t hurt her.” She walked out into the murky daylight of a forest morning.

After a few stiff curses, Dorian jogged past her—stopping only to press a possessive kiss to her lips—and disappeared into the trees. She knew he’d never let her out of his sight, but for an instant, she felt incredibly alone.

Keenan was linked to her. So was Amara.

But something was missing.

—
the sensation of leaves brushing her hair and bark under her palms. A thousand scents in her nose and
—

A shutterblink and it was gone.

“Dorian,” she whispered, imagining their fledgling bond as a holovision set with bad reception. Or perhaps bootlegged cable was the better analogy. But who was the hacker? Thinking of the bond in such technical terms helped her get her mind around the shimmering wonder of something so outside her realm of experience, she barely dared imagine she might have a right to it.

She stepped over a fallen log and paused, listening with an inner ear that had nothing to do with being Psy, before turning left. The earth was softer the deeper she went, the trees closer together. But there were still large patches of open land covered with the debris of the forest—leaves and branches, rocks and moss. She had no difficulty skirting the obstacles—light had infiltrated but it was a subdued, heavy kind of light. A waiting light.

She paused again and listened, this time with her human ear. Silence. Dorian was good, very, very good.

—
earth and the sharp bite of pine, concentration. The sight of a beautiful woman walking along the forest floo
—

She glanced behind her, searching. But the man who thought she was beautiful was nowhere to be seen. Yet she could feel him inside her, though she was in the PsyNet and he was outside. How had he broken—“Of course,” she whispered, coming to a standstill. Dorian
hadn’t
broken in. No, she had invited him in.

The mating bond was piggybacking on the powerful emotional attraction she felt for him. Full of color and chaos, this emotion tied her to him far more powerfully than any psychic bond.