Hostage to Pleasure (41 page)

But this time, they were all in agreement. Kit, Cory, and Nico had grown up a lot in the past year. All three would now carry the rank of novice soldier. Being a soldier wasn’t about war. It was about protecting the pack. And about standing by your own.

In blood . . . and in joy.

CHAPTER 49

Shoshanna stared at her husband, Henry, across the width of her desk. “Why did you do it? We decided to go with the majority.”

“She was a threat.”

“How?” She glanced at the clip playing on her computer screen. “It’s true Aleine’s actions will equal the probable end of Protocol I, but her death would’ve only made matters worse.” Shoshanna didn’t like being thwarted, but she was also a creature of cold intellect. “You almost turned her into a martyr.” Better that she was alive and digging her own grave. “It’s obvious from this clip that Aleine has broken Silence. Any threat of her becoming a rebel leader has decreased to negligible levels.”

Henry remained unmoved. “I was unaware of that fact at the time.”

“Even so,” she continued, “the assassination attempt has created a massive political quagmire.” She turned the computer screen toward him. “Bloody violence. And at the hands of a Psy who is obviously one of our elite operatives.” The Council’s rule was built on Silence. And that Silence was supposed to have ended violence among their race. “You’ve undermined—”

“It was the correct choice at the time,” Henry interrupted. “We can’t keep allowing the changelings to get the better of us.”

Normally, Shoshanna would have agreed. “Don’t you comprehend what you’ve done? We
can’t
kill her now. The instant anything happens to Aleine, it will confirm every one of her allegations and give the rebels all the ammunition they need.”

“An unfortunate consequence.” Rising, he walked to the window. “However, she’s no longer on my list of priorities.”

She didn’t understand his behavior. Henry measured as a powerful 9.5 on the Gradient, but he’d always been the beta partner in their relationship. She was the one who’d made all the critical decisions—such as having them both implanted with stolen copies of the prototype Aleine had developed in the course of her work on Protocol I. Until the implants had had to be removed, she and Henry had been one mind, and even there, she had ruled. “Explain your reasoning to me,” she persisted.

He turned to meet her eyes. “Why?”

“We’re a team, Henry.”

“When it suits you, my dear wife.” A mockery of an endearment, completely devoid of emotion.

Shoshanna stared at him, belatedly realizing that he hadn’t been acting like himself recently. “Your behavior isn’t conforming to your known psychological profile.”

“Perhaps I’m exercising a previously dormant aspect of my personality.”

She listened to the cadence of his voice, measuring the physical distribution of his weight at the same time. “You’re favoring your left side.” It was such a slight flaw that it would be unnoticeable to anyone who hadn’t known him as long as she had.

“Are you saying I’m brain-damaged?”

Her mind clicked. “We had our implants removed before they malfunctioned, but perhaps yours began to degrade while connected to your neural tissues.” She made a mental note to get her own brain rescanned for any signs of decay.

“What won’t you do to hold on to power.” A statement, not a question. “The implant experience merely opened my eyes. I prefer being the puppet master, not the puppet.”

“Henry, your brain is clearly malfunct—”

“And even if it is,” he said slowly, “what will you do?”

“I can have you committed to the Center.”

“On what grounds? Will you tell them that we had our brains implanted with a stolen device, that we were planning to wrench away control of the Council by making the others our slaves?”

Shoshanna had no answer to that because he was right—she wouldn’t give up everything she’d achieved just to turn him in. “You need to get medical assistance.”

“No, Shoshanna, I don’t think so. And don’t try an assassination—I know all your tricks. I was connected to your mind, remember?” With that, he walked out of the room.

Yes, he had been, but she’d been certain she was the controlling entity. Now, it appeared she’d made a gross miscalculation. Henry was a pure telepath—she had no way of knowing what he’d plucked from her brain, or embedded within it. As she had no way of knowing how much damage had been done to Henry’s neural tissues . . . or what he’d do now that he was operating free of any normal constraints.

CHAPTER 50

 
—Secure e-mail sent from unknown individual in Venice to unknown number of recipients in San Francisco

 
 
Dorian had decided to keep being rational—hell, he wasn’t going to throw away the miracle of his mate and child—but his cat wouldn’t settle, even though it appeared that Ashaya was now untouchable as far as the Council was concerned. In fact, according to Anthony, the Council was actively
protecting
her, and had even reined in Pure Psy on the matter.

The irony of it might’ve been rich had Dorian’s cat not been so aggravated at having been cheated of a target on which to vent its rage. Dorian had always known he was a little more leopard than other changelings in human form—his cat seeking to get out whatever way it could—but he’d expected the savage nature of his need to lessen after mating.

It had only gotten worse—as if the cat knew it would never be stroked by its mate, never be admired as was its right, never even be
seen
by the woman who was everything to it. The leopard was dying a little each day and all that distressed anger was now being channeled into a pounding need to blame someone.

His meeting with Anthony Kyriakus didn’t help matters. The rebel Councilor was blunt in his choice of words. “Ashaya needs to stay out of the limelight. Anything she does from here on out would just put her in danger, while contributing nothing to the cause.”

“Because she feels?” He barely kept his tone civil.

“Yes.” Eyes of cool brown met his. “Silence is beginning to crumble at the edges, but the ones who’ve broken the chains make our imprisoned state far too obvious—people aren’t ready to see the truth, to go out into the unfamiliar darkness.”

Dorian looked at Anthony, and wondered at the strength it took to play the double-edged game the other man had been playing for longer than any of them knew. “So, they’re all safe?”

“Yes. Amara’s been written off—she was already unstable and if they get a chance to hit her, they will. But she’s not an active target.”

“Keenan?”

“Was only useful as a way to control Ashaya. He’s not a uniquely powerful Psy in his own right, and no one seems particularly concerned about what happened to him.”

Dorian’s hackles lowered. “Thanks for the intel.”

Anthony gave a slight nod. “If I ever find out who ordered the hit, I’ll tell you.”

“Good. I can’t wait to tear his heart from his chest.” Even if it took years, Dorian would finish this. Patience was simply another side of stubborn, and Dorian had stubborn in spades.

But now, as he stood outside the cabin while Ashaya and Keenan slept inside—Ashaya in his bed, Keenan up above in a hastily but carefully erected addition to his home—his cat was anything but patient. It wanted to make someone pay. For being trapped, for being unable to protect its mate, for being goddamn latent. Claws shoved inside his fingernails, cutting and tearing. But never coming out. It fucking hurt. Until the pain and the anger left him unable to think.

And then the enticing scent of wild honey and woman heat wrapped around him. An instant later, he felt Ashaya’s cheek press into his bare back as her arms slid around to lie palms down over his chest. The man leaned back into her hold and even the cat settled a little under the petting. The pain faded.

“This bond,” she said, “it’s so deep, I can hear you in my heart.”

Smiling, he put his own hands over hers. “Good.”

Lips on his skin, soft, gentle, possessive. “No more blood, Dorian.” A whisper. An order. “The need for vengeance in you—it’s destructive.”

He turned to tip up her chin. “It’s who I am. The cat wants retribution.”

“No,” she said, passion in her eyes, “you’re a beautiful, charming, dangerous leopard. But you’re not ugly in your anger. I’ll allow you to keep us safe—I won’t get in the way of that—but if you begin to obsess over this until it burns a hole in your psyche”—she stabbed a finger into his chest—“I’ll tie you up and teach you exactly what an angry M-Psy can do to the man she loves.”

He blinked, taken completely by surprise. The leopard, too, was chastened enough to retreat from trying to dig its way out of Dorian’s skin. “Shaya—”

“No.” She kissed him. And kept doing it until he groaned and thrust his hand into those incredible curls of hers. “Enough,” she said. “The threats have all been neutralized.”

Something niggled at him, something he’d seen. A flicker of an image—a dark car with opaque windows. “I’m not sure that’s—”

She nipped at his lower lip, breaking his train of thought. “Forget vengeance. It’s time for us to learn each other.”

He retaliated with a kiss that left her breathless. “I already know you.” In his heart, in his core, to the depths of his changeling soul. “I just want to play with you now.” It was another kind of bonding, a kind that spoke to the cat even as it seduced the man. Maybe it would even be enough to heal the leopard’s broken heart.

“Why are you sad, Dorian?”

He couldn’t lie to her. “The leopard wants you to see it.”

“I see it every time you look at me, kitty cat.” A kiss pressed to the hollow of his throat. He shuddered under the caress. “But I’m working on the DNA. Give me a little more time. Tonight, let’s play.” A husky whisper that spoke of sex and hotter, richer things.

He slid his hands under the tails of the shirt she’d pulled on to cup the smooth warmth of her buttocks. “What about—?”

“Keenan sleeps like a log, and I’ll know the instant he wakes.” She nibbled at his lips. “Don’t you want me?”

He knew when he was being handled. He decided he liked it when it came from his beautiful mate. “You’re definitely a fast learner, Ms. Aleine.” Grinning, he tugged her away from the cabin and into the dark blanket of the trees. “Now, where was I?”

She shivered as he cupped her bottom again before trailing his fingers down to stroke over her cleft. “That’s . . . nice.”

“Nice?” He rubbed lightly, gratified to hear her moan. “I think you need an education in how to talk to me in bed.”

“Oh?” She was standing on tiptoe now, trying to escape his fingers but rubbing back against him at the same time.

“Hmm.” He nipped at the line of her neck, taking his time teasing the dampness of her. “Lesson one—use words like ‘magnificent, ’ ‘amazing,’ ‘mind-blowing.’ ”

She pretended to bite the line of his jaw. Almost purring, he slipped a finger into her. “Be good.”

“Make me,” she gasped as he pushed one hand up under the front of her shirt to cup the heavy weight of her breast. Ashaya was shaped like a woman should be, he thought, all curves and softness. As far as he was concerned, she was his own personal sensual banquet. And right now, she was hot and wet around him. He moved his finger with slow precision, coaxing her to ride him.

Her muscles clenched as he stroked a second finger into her liquid heat. He grazed her ear with his teeth. “Now would be a good time to use ‘mind-blowing.’ ”

She was melting around him but she didn’t surrender. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”

He brushed his thumb over her nipple. “The truth’s the truth, beautiful. Let me teach you all about it.”

Ashaya had seen flashes of Dorian’s charm during the course of their unusual courtship, but that night, out in the soft dark of the forest, she found out exactly how indulgent he could be with a woman he considered his. There was husky male laughter as he teased her, lashings of the most incredible pleasure, and tenderness, such exquisite tenderness.

When he withdrew his fingers from inside her, she whimpered. It got her a kiss. Then he opened her shirt and pushed it off her shoulders and to the forest floor. “Mmm.” A sound of complete satisfaction as she stood bathed in moonlight.

He licked the curve of her collarbone, making her shiver.

“Did I tell you I want to see you naked in the sun?” His hands squeezed her buttocks. “All smooth and pretty and mine.” Those strong hands stroking up over her back, then sliding down again. “Definitely mine.” Another bite along her neck, this one with a teasing flick of tongue.

Her breath was already coming in gasps, but she somehow managed to speak. “You seem to have a strange fascination with seeing me naked in daylight.”

“It’s my fantasy.” He shrugged, unrepentant. Then he dipped his head and bit her nipple.

She jerked, her hands clenching in his hair. “Stop that.”

“Why? You like it.” He did the same to her neglected breast.

Her heart felt as if it would thud out of her chest. “Dorian, I don’t have your control.”

“Baby, as I recall, I came with a single touch,” he said, between nibbling kisses. “It’s your turn.” Making a sound incredibly akin to a purr, he bent his head to suck at the pulse in her neck, even as he thrust two fingers deep inside her. Once. Twice.

And that was all it took.

She shattered.

The pleasure was incredible, but what was even more so was that she felt him with her all the way. And when she opened her eyes, it was to the openly pleased curve of his lips, his arms holding her tight. “Magnificent,” she whispered, teasing him because she’d learned he liked it. So did she. “But I would rather have you inside me.”