PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

Silence

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

In an effort to reduce the overwhelming incidence of insanity and serial killing in the Psy population, the Psy Council decided, in the year 1969, to instigate a rigorous program called Silence. The aim of Silence was to condition young Psy from birth. The aim of the conditioning was to teach them not to feel rage.

However, the Council soon discovered that it was impossible to isolate that one emotion. In 1979, after a ten-year debate over the millions of minds in the PsyNet, it was decided to change the aim of Silence.

Its new mission was to condition young Psy to feel nothing. Not rage, not jealousy, not envy, not happiness, and certainly not love.

Silence was a resounding success.

By the year 2079, when the fifth or sixth generation of Psy are being conditioned, everyone has forgotten that they had ever been any other way. The Psy are known to be icily controlled, inhumanly practical, and impossible to push to violence.

They are the leaders of government and business, eclipsing both humans and changelings, races that allow their animal natures to rule them. With mental capabilities running from telepathy to foresight, telekinesis to psychometry, the Psy consider themselves a step up the evolutionary ladder.

In keeping with their nature, they base all their decisions on logic and efficiency. According to the PsyNet, their mistake rate is close to nil.

The Psy are perfect in their Silence.

CHAPTER 1

Sascha Duncan couldn’t read a single line of the report flickering across the screen of her handheld organizer. A haze of fear clouded her vision, insulating her from the cold efficiency of her mother’s office.

Even the sound of Nikita wrapping up a call barely penetrated her numbed mind.

She was terrified.

This morning, she’d woken to find herself curled up in bed, whimpering. Normal Psy did not whimper, did not show any emotion, did not feel. But Sascha had known since childhood that she wasn’t normal.

She’d successfully hidden her flaw for twenty-six years but now things were going wrong. Very, very wrong.

Her mind was deteriorating at such an accelerating rate that she’d begun experiencing physical side effects—muscle spasms, tremors, an abnormal heart rhythm, and those ragged tears after dreams she never recalled. It would soon become impossible to conceal her fractured psyche.

The result of exposure would be incarceration at the Center. Of course no one called it a prison. Termed a “rehabilitation facility,” it provided a brutally efficient way for the Psy to cull the weak from the herd.

After they were through with her, if she was lucky she’d end up a drooling mess with no mind to speak of. If she wasn’t so fortunate, she’d retain enough of her thinking processes to become a drone in the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

vast business networks of the Psy, a robot with just enough neurons functioning to file the mail or sweep the floors.

The feel of her hand tightening on the organizer jolted her back to reality. If there was one place she couldn’t break down, it was here, sitting across from her mother. Nikita Duncan might be her blood but she was also a member of the Psy Council. Sascha wasn’t sure that if it came down to it, Nikita wouldn’t sacrifice her daughter to keep her place on the most powerful body in the world.

With grim determination, she began to reinforce the psychic shields that protected the secret corridors of her mind. It was the one thing she excelled at and by the time her mother finished her call, Sascha exhibited as much emotion as a sculpture carved from arctic ice.

Sascha called up the relevant data on her organizer. The miniature computer held all the notes she could possibly need for the meeting and was compact enough to slip into her pocket. If Lucas Hunter stuck true to type, he’d turn up with paper hard copies of everything.

According to her information, Hunter had become the only ruling alpha in the DarkRiver leopard pack at twenty-three years of age. In the ten years since, DarkRiver had consolidated its hold over San Francisco and surrounding regions to the extent that they were now the dominant predators in the area.

Outside changelings who wanted to work, live, or play in DarkRiver territory had to receive their permission. If they didn’t, changeling territorial law went into force and the outcome was savage.

What had made Sascha’s eyes open wide in her first reading of this material was that DarkRiver had negotiated a mutual nonaggression pact with the SnowDancers, the wolf pack that controlled the rest of California. Since the SnowDancers were known to be vicious and unforgiving to anyone who dared rise to power in their territory, it made her wonder at DarkRiver’s civilized image. No one survived the wolves by playing nice.

A soft chime sounded.

Nikita nodded and stood to her full height, a graceful five eight. Dressed in a black pantsuit teamed with a white shirt, she looked every inch the successful woman she was, her hair cut to just below her ears in a blunt style that suited her. She was beautiful. And she was lethal.

Sascha knew that when they walked side by side as they were doing now, no one would place them for mother and daughter. They were the same height but the resemblance ended there. Nikita had inherited her Asiatic eyes, arrow-straight hair, and porcelain skin from her half-Japanese mother. By the time the genes had been passed on to Sascha, all that had survived was the slightest tilt to the eyes.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Instead of Nikita’s sheet of shimmering blue-black, she had rich ebony hair that absorbed light like ink and curled so wildly she was forced to pull it back into a severe plait every morning. Her skin was a dark honey rather than ivory, evidence of her unknown father’s genes. Sascha’s birth records had listed him as being of Anglo-Indian descent.

She dropped back a little as the door to the meeting room drew closer. She hated encounters with changelings and not because of the general Psy revulsion to their open emotionalism. It seemed to her that they knew . Somehow they could sense that she wasn’t like the others, that she was flawed.

She looked up at the sound of her mother’s voice. And found herself within touching distance of the most dangerous male she’d ever seen. There was no other word to describe him. Well over six feet tall, he was built like the fighting machine he was in the wild, pure lean muscle and tensile strength.

His black hair brushed his shoulders but there was nothing soft about it. Instead, it hinted at unrestrained passion and the dark hunger of the leopard below the skin. She had no doubt she was in the presence of a predator.

Then he turned his head and she saw the right side of his face. Four jagged lines, reminiscent of the claw marks of some great beast, scored the muted gold of his skin. His eyes were a hypnotic green but it was those slashing markings that grabbed her attention. She’d never been this close to one of the changeling Hunters before.

She forced herself to return his gaze, not fooled by the chivalry into dropping her guard. Hunters were trained to sniff out vulnerable prey. “We’ve looked at your offer,” she began.

His responsive smile was so wicked, Sascha couldn’t look away. “In this case, I think we have the same ones. You need help to plan and execute housing that’ll appeal to changelings. I want an inside track on new Psy projects.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha knew that that couldn’t be all of it. They needed him but he didn’t need them, not when DarkRiver’s business interests were extensive enough to rival their own. The world was changing under the noses of the Psy, the human and changeling races no longer content to be second best. It was a measure of their arrogance that most of her people continued to ignore the slow shift in power.

Sitting so close to the contained fury that was Lucas Hunter, she wondered at the blindness of her brethren. “If we deal with you, we’ll expect the same level of reliability that we’d get if we went with a Psy construction and design firm.”

Lucas looked across at the icy perfection of Sascha Duncan and wished he knew what it was about her that was bugging the hell out of him. His beast was snarling and pacing the cage of his mind, ready to pounce out and sniff at her sedate dark gray pantsuit. “Of course,” he said, fascinated by the tiny flickers of white light that came and went in the darkness of her eyes.

He’d seldom been this close to a cardinal Psy. They were rare enough that they didn’t mingle with the masses, being given high posts in the Psy Council as soon as they reached any kind of mature age.

Sascha was young but there was nothing untried about her. She looked as ruthless as the rest of her race, as unfeeling and as cold.

She could be abetting killer.

Any one of them could be. It was why DarkRiver had been stalking high-level Psy for months, looking for a way to penetrate their defenses. The Duncan project was an unbelievable chance. Not only was Nikita powerful in her own right, she was a member of the innermost circle—the Psy Council. Once Lucas was in, it would be his job to find out the identity of the sadistic Psy who’d stolen the life of one of DarkRiver’s women… and execute him.

No mercy. No forgiveness.

In front of him, Sascha glanced at the slim organizer she held. “We’re willing to offer seven million.” He’d take a penny if it would get him inside the secretive corridors of the Psy world but he couldn’t afford to make them suspicious. “Ladies.” He filled the single word with the sensuality that was as much a part of him as his beast.

Most changelings and humans would’ve reacted to the promise of pleasure implicit in his tones, but these two remained unmoved. “We both know the contract is worth nothing less than ten million. Let’s not waste time.” He could’ve sworn a light sparked in Sascha’s night-sky eyes, a light that spoke of a challenge accepted. The panther inside him growled softly in response.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose. They always did that in the presence of Psy who were actively using their powers. Telepathy was just one of their many talents and one that he admitted came in Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

very handy during business negotiations. But their abilities also blinded them. Changelings had long ago learned to take advantage of the Psy sense of superiority.

Almost a minute later, Sascha spoke to him. “It’s important for us to have control at every stage.”

He raised a brow. “I’m listening.” And so was the panther inside him. Both man and beast found Sascha Duncan captivating in a way that neither could understand. Part of him wanted to stroke her… and part of him wanted to bite.

Every nerve he had went taut. He’d just been granted access to a cardinal Psy almost twenty-four seven. “You want to be joined at the hip with me, darling? That’s fine.” His senses picked up a change in the atmosphere, but it was so subtle that it was gone before he could identify it. “Do you have authority to sign off on changes?”

He couldn’t afford to let the Psy think of him as weak—they respected only the coldest, crudest kind of strength. “Nine and a promise of another million if all the homes are presold by the time of the opening.” Another silence. The hairs on his nape lifted again. Inside his mind the beast batted at the air as if trying to catch the sparks of energy. Most changelings couldn’t feel the electrical storms generated by the Psy, but it was a talent that had its uses.

had on their screens.

Sascha picked them up and passed one to her mother. “Electronic would be much more convenient.” He’d heard it a hundred times from a hundred different Psy. Part of the reason changelings hadn’t followed the technological wave was sheer stubbornness; the other part was security—his race had been hacking into Psy databases for decades. “I like something I can hold, touch, and smell, something that pleases all my senses.”

It was an innuendo he had no doubt she understood, but it was her reaction he was looking for. Nothing.

Sascha Duncan was as cold a Psy as he’d ever met—he’d have to thaw her out enough to gain information about whether the Psy were harboring a serial killer.

He found himself oddly attracted by the thought of tangling with this particular Psy, though until that moment, he’d considered them nothing but unfeeling machines. Then she looked up to meet his gaze and the panther in him opened its mouth in a wordless growl.

The hunt had begun. And Sascha Duncan was the prey.

Two hours later, Sascha closed the door to her apartment and did a mental sweep of the premises.

Nothing. Located in the same building as her office, the apartment had excellent security, but she’d used her skills at shielding to ring the rooms with another level of protection. It took a lot of her meager psychic strength but she needed to feel safe somewhere.

Satisfied that the apartment hadn’t been breached, she systematically checked every one of her inner locks against the vastness of the PsyNet. Functioning. No one could get into her mind without her knowing about it.

Only then did she allow herself to collapse into a heap on the ice-blue carpet, the cool color making her shiver. “Computer. Raise temperature five degrees.”

Lucas.

Her breath came out in a gasp as she allowed her mind to cascade with all the emotions she’d had to bury during the meeting.

Fear.

Amusement.

Hunger.

Lust.

Desire.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Need.

Unclipping the barrette at the end of her plait, she shoved her hands into the unfurling curls before tugging off her jacket and throwing it aside. Her breasts ached, straining against the cups of her bra. She wanted nothing more than to strip herself naked and rub up against something hot, hard, and male.

A whimper escaped her throat as she closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, trying to control the images pounding at her. This shouldn’t be happening. No matter how far out of control she’d gone before, it had never been this bad, this sexual. The second she admitted it, the avalanche seemed to slow and she found enough strength to push her way out of the clawing grip of hunger.

Getting up off the floor, she walked to the kitchenette and poured herself a glass of water. As she swallowed, she caught her reflection in the ornamental mirror that hung beside her built-in cooler. It had been a gift from a changeling advisor on another project and she’d kept it despite her mother’s raised brow. Her excuse had been that she was trying to understand the other race. In truth, she’d just liked the wildly colorful frame.

However, right now she wished she hadn’t held on to it. It showed too clearly what she didn’t want to see. The tangle of darkness that was her hair spoke of animal passion and desire, things no Psy should know about. Her face was flushed as if with fever, her cheeks streaked red, and her eyes… Lord have mercy, her eyes were pure midnight.

She put down the glass and pushed back her hair, searching. But she hadn’t made a mistake. There was no light in the darkness of her pupils. This was only supposed to happen when a Psy was expending a large amount of psychic power.

It had never happened to her.

Her eyes might’ve marked her as a cardinal but her accessible powers were humiliatingly weak. So weak that she still hadn’t been co-opted into the ranks of those who worked directly for the Council.

Her lack of any real psychic power had mystified the instructors who’d trained her. Everyone had always said that there was incredible raw potential inside her mind—more than enough for a cardinal—but that it had never manifested.

Until now.

She shook her head. No. She hadn’t expended any psychic energy so it had to be something else that had caused the darkness, something other Psy didn’t know about because they didn’t feel. Her eyes drifted to the communication console set into the wall beside the kitchenette. One thing was clear—she couldn’t go out looking like this. Anyone who saw her would have her sent in for rehabilitation in a heartbeat.

Fear gripped her tight.

As long as she was on the outside, she might one day figure out a way to escape, a way to cut her link to the PsyNet without throwing her body into paralysis and death. Or she might even discover a way to fix the flaw that marked her. But the second she was admitted into the Center, her world would become darkness. Endless, silent darkness.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

With careful hands, she pulled off the cover of the communication console and fiddled with the circuits.

Only after she’d replaced the cover did she press in Nikita’s code. Her mother lived in the penthouse several floors above.

The answer came seconds later. “Sascha, your screen is turned off.”

She’d barely started to relax when the console chimed an incoming call. Since the caller identification function had been disabled along with the screen, she had no way of knowing who it was. “Sascha Duncan,” she said, trying not to panic that Nikita had changed her mind.

Her knees almost buckled at the sound of that honey-smooth voice, more purr than growl now. “Mr.

Hunter.”

Sascha didn’t know if Lucas always sounded like an invitation to sin or whether he was doing it to unsettle her. That thought unsettled her. If he even suspected that there was something not quite right about her, then she might as well sign her death warrant. Internment at the Center was nothing less than a living death anyway.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

successfully fought the Council after being slated for rehabilitation.

How could he make the most businesslike of invitations sound like purest temptation? Maybe it was all in her mind—she was finally cracking. “Location?”

To her heightened senses, that sounded more like a threat than a promise.

CHAPTER 2

Lucas prowled to the edge of his office and stared down at the narrow streets that led into the sensory explosion that was Chinatown, his mind on Sascha Duncan’s night-sky eyes. His animal nature had sniffed something in her that didn’t quite fit, wasn’t quite… right. And yet, she didn’t have the sickly smell of insanity but a delectably enticing scent that was at odds with the metallic stink of most Psy.

He had no need to turn around to identify his visitor. “What is it, Dorian?” Dorian came to stand beside him. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he could’ve passed for a surfer hanging out, waiting for the right wave. Except for the feral edge in those eyes. Dorian was a latent leopard. Something had gone wrong in the womb and he’d been born changeling in all ways except one—he lacked the ability to shift forms. “How did it go?”

The Psy thought themselves the leaders of the planet, but it was the changelings who were attuned to the Earth’s heartbeat, the changelings who saw the intertwined streams of life. Changelings and the occasional human.

Lucas shrugged. “She’s like the rest of them. But I’m in. And she’s a cardinal.” Dorian rocked back on his heels. “If one of them knows about the killer, they all do. Their web keeps every single one of them in contact.”

cool kiss. “I’m not so sure that’s how it works.”

Democratic is the one thing they’re not.” The Psy world of cold, calm survival of the fittest was as cruel as anything he’d ever seen.

As the daughter of a Councilor and a powerful mind in her own right, it was almost certain that Sascha was a member of the inner circle. “Yes.” And he had every intention of finding out what she knew.

Lucas finally turned to glance at Dorian, amused. “You’re saying I should seduce the information out of her?” The idea should’ve revolted him but both man and beast were intrigued.

Dorian laughed. “Yeah right, your cock’d probably freeze off.” Something bright and angry glittered in those blue eyes. “I was going to say that they really don’t feel anything. I went to bed with one back when I was young and stupid. I was drunk and she invited me to her dorm room.”

Lucas looked back at the city. He hid it better but his anger was as deep as Dorian’s. He’d been with the other man when they’d discovered Dorian’s sister’s body six months ago. Kylie had been butchered.

Coldly. Clinically. Mercilessly. Her blood had been spilled with no thought to the beautiful, vibrant woman she’d been.

There had been no animal scent at the scene but Lucas had picked up the metallic stink of the Psy. The other changelings had seen the brutal efficiency of the kill and known exactly what type of monster had done this. But the Psy Council had claimed to know nothing, and the authorities in Enforcement had done so little, it was almost as if they didn’t want to find the murderer.

After DarkRiver had started digging, they’d discovered several other murders with the same signature.

All buried so deep that only one organization could’ve been behind it. The Psy Council was like a spider and every Enforcement station in the country was caught in its web.

The changelings had had enough. Enough of Psy arrogance. Enough of Psy politics. Enough of Psy manipulation. Decades of resentment and fury had built up into a powder keg that the Psy had unknowingly ignited with their latest atrocity.

Now it was war.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

And one very unusual Psy was about to be trapped in the middle.

When Sascha arrived at the DarkRiver building at seven thirty sharp, it was to find Lucas waiting for her by the entrance. Dressed in jeans, white T-shirt, and black leather-synth jacket, he looked nothing like the businessman she’d faced yesterday. “Good morning, Sascha.” His slow smile invited a similar response.

This time she was prepared for him. “Good morning. Shall we proceed to the meeting?” Nothing but the coldest practicality would serve to keep this male at a distance—she didn’t have to be a genius to understand that he was used to getting what he wanted.

She smelled deception. What she couldn’t figure out was whether it was because he was trying to charm her or because he was lying. “Why didn’t you call me?”

She didn’t protest. No real Psy would. He knew the way so it made sense for him to drive. But she wasn’t a normal Psy and she wanted to tell him to keep his autocratic commands to himself.

She’d been too nervous to eat. Something about Lucas Hunter was accelerating her descent into madness but she couldn’t stop the tumble, couldn’t stop herself from continuing to tangle with him. “Yes,” she lied, not quite sure why.

Yosemite National Park was one of the bigger wilderness areas. At one stage a couple of centuries in the past, it had been mooted that the park be limited to an area east of Mariposa. The changelings had won that war and Yosemite had been left to sprawl to the extent that it had merged into several other forested areas, including the El Dorado and Tahoe forests, though the lake city of Tahoe continued to thrive.

It now covered half of Sacramento and curved around the lucrative wine-growing region of Napa to hug Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Santa Rosa to the north. To the southeast of San Francisco, it had almost swallowed Modesto. Because of its ongoing sprawl, only part of Yosemite was now a national park. The rest was protected from general development but habitation was allowed under certain circumstances.

As far as she knew, no Psy had ever sought permission to live so close to the wild. It made her wonder what their green, wooded land would’ve looked like had the Psy had total control of it. Somehow, she doubted that most of California would’ve been a series of giant national parks and forests.

Suddenly aware of Lucas sending her a questioning glance, she realized she’d been silent for over forty minutes. Luckily for her, lack of small talk was a Psy trait. “If we agree to buy the site you’ve chosen, how long will it take to close the deal?”

He looked back at the road. “A day. The land is in DarkRiver territory but owned by the SnowDancers through an accident of history. They’re happy to sell for the right price.”

His lips curved. “It’s the best location for what you want. The thought of living in that area gives most changelings wet dreams.”

Sascha wondered if he was being crude in an effort to rattle her. Had this far too intelligent leopard figured out that she was flawed in the most basic way? Hoping to throw him off the scent, she made her next words completely toneless. “Very colorful, but I don’t care about their dreams. I simply want them to buy the properties.”

He slid open his door and stepped out, frustrated by his inability to penetrate the layer of ice Sascha had wrapped around herself like steel. He’d engineered this drive and site visit in order to start probing her for information. But getting a Psy to open up was like trying to get a SnowDancer to turn into a leopard.

The worst part was, he found himself fascinated by everything about his quarry. Like how the rich silk of her hair turned impossibly darker in the sun as she moved to stretch out her legs. Or how her skin gleamed a dark honey. “May I ask you a question?” The hunger came from the panther inside but the man saw the possibilities in this line of questioning.

Sascha glanced up. “By all means.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Lucas narrowed his eyes. He had the feeling she was teasing him but of course the Psy never teased.

To his surprise, she answered without hesitation. “Depending on the family structure, we take the names of either our maternal or paternal line. In our family, the last name has been maternal for the last three generations. However, my great-grandmother, Ai Kumamoto, took her husband’s name. He was Andrew Duncan.”

She nodded. “Their daughter was Reina Duncan, my grandmother. Reina had a child with Dmitri Kukovich and he chose the first name of their child—Nikita. My mother continued that naming tradition, as our psychologists believe a sense of history better enables a child to adapt to society.”

Something in her voice set off the protective instincts of his beast. “He’s not in your life any longer?”

This time she didn’t tease him about it not being a question. “My mother chose a scientific method of conception.”

Lucas stopped so suddenly, she almost betrayed surprise. “What? She went to a sperm bank and picked out a donor with good genes?” He appeared astounded.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Lucas shook his head and it was such a feline movement, her heart jumped. Sometimes he was so smooth, so charming, she forgot his animal nature. And then he looked at her with that naked heat in his eyes and she knew that what prowled behind the civilized facade was nothing tame.

She didn’t move. He might be an alpha used to obedience but she wasn’t one of his pack. “On the contrary. I was taught animal reproduction at an early age.” He chuckled and she felt the stroke of his laughter deep inside where no one should’ve been able to reach. “Animal reproduction? That’s one way to put it. Have you ever tried it?” She was having trouble concentrating on his words with him so near… so touchable. He smelled of danger and wildness and passion, all the things she could never allow herself to feel. It was the ultimate temptation. “No. Why would I?”

He leaned infinitesimally closer. “Because, darling, you might find that the animal in you likes it.”

Lucas’s eyes blazed with challenge. “Maybe I can change your mind.” Despite the teasing words, she knew he’d picked up her lapse and was even now considering what it meant. There was nothing she could do to retract the slip but she could bring the conversation back to purely business. “What did you want to show me?”

His wicked smile shot to pieces her hopes of getting this meeting under control. “Lots of things, darling.

Lots of things.”

Lucas watched Sascha move around the lot and savored the lingering taste of her, as warm and exotic as her history.

The panther prowling the cage of his mind was intrigued by her, intent on licking at her to see if she tasted as good as he imagined. Her golden skin enticed the tactile nature of his changeling soul, while the lushness of her lips made him want to bite… in the most erotic way. Everything about her invited the senses.

What had him fighting the urge was the knowledge that it had to be some kind of Psy trick. Had they finally figured out a way to exert psychic control over changelings? His people had always been safe because the Psy were too cold to figure out what made them tick. Life, hunger, sensation, touch, sex.

Not cold, ascetic sex like Dorian had described, but passionate, sweaty, low-down and dirty sex.

Lucas loved the scent of both human and changeling women, adored their soft skin and cries of pleasure, but never before had he been drawn to one of the enemy. He fought the attraction even as he traced the shape of Sascha’s body with his eyes.

She was tall but there was nothing willowy about her. The woman’s body had more dangerous curves than should be legal on one of her race. In spite of the black pantsuit and stiff white shirt she wore like Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

corporate armor, he could tell her breasts would overflow his hands. When she bent to examine something on the ground, he almost gave in to the urgings of his beast. The curve of her hip was sensually female, her bottom a heart-shaped enticement.

Her head turned as if in response to his intent gaze, and, despite the distance separating them, he could almost taste the earthy sensuality she tried to bury. Frowning at his own thoughts, he began to walk toward her. The Psy weren’t sensual. They were about as close to mechanical as you could get and still remain human. But there was something different about this one, something he wanted to sink his teeth into.

She jerked away. “What are you doing?”

No other Psy he’d ever met had asked that question. “It feels good. I like touching soft, silky things.”

Was that a tremor he heard in her response? “Try it.”

He bent a little in invitation. “Go on. Changelings don’t mind touch like the Psy.”

She lifted her hand and then paused. “There’s no reason to do this.” He wondered which one of them she was trying to convince. “Think of it as research. Ever touched a changeling before?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Shaking her head, she bridged the remaining distance and ran her fingers through his hair in a wave that made him want to purr. He’d expected her to back off after a single stroke but she surprised him by doing it again. And again.

He touched her plait. This time she didn’t react. “Can I undo it?”

The panther in him froze, sniffing a hint of panic in her tone. “Why?” CHAPTER 3

Chuckling, he let the plait ran through his hand. She stepped away the second it hit her back. Playtime was over. “I chose this land,” he said, answering her earlier question, “because of its closeness to nature.

Though most changelings live a civilized life, we’re as animal as we are human—the need to roam the wild is in our blood.”

A frown? On a Psy? It was gone a second later but he’d seen. “No. We’re one. I’m as panther as I am human.”

And a stalking panther was danger and fury combined.

Sascha watched Lucas return to the car to pick up his phone in order to call the SnowDancers.

Protected by his turned back, she allowed herself to appreciate his sheer male beauty. He was quite Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

simply… luscious. She’d never used that word before, had never found anyone or anything worth using it for. But Lucas Hunter definitely fit the definition.

Unlike the cold formality of Psy men, he was playful and approachable. That only made him all the more dangerous. She’d glimpsed the predator lurking beneath the surface—Lucas might play nice but when it was time to bite, he’d go for the throat. No one made alpha of a predatory pack at such a young age by being anything less than the top of the food chain.

That didn’t scare her. Maybe because she’d seen true terror in the labyrinth of the PsyNet, things so vicious and vile that Lucas’s openly predatorial nature was as welcome as a breath of fresh air. He might’ve tried to charm her, but he’d never pretended to be anything other than what he was—a hunter to the core, a predator inside and out, a sensual male well aware of the effect of his sexuality.

He made her hunger, made her feel raw and wild things that threatened to crack the ever more fragile mask of Psy coldness she wore to survive. She should be running as far from him as possible. Instead, she found herself walking toward him as he headed back, a sleek silver device held to his ear that was light-years advanced from Bell’s original invention.

Lucas held the phone to his ear and when he didn’t repeat her offer, she realized the SnowDancer on the other end had to have heard her. It was a reminder that despite her race’s egotistical view of themselves as the supreme leaders of the Earth, changelings had some remarkable powers.

They’ll happily sell it to your competitor.”

Sascha had done her homework. “They can’t. The Rika-Smythe family group has already sunk all available funds into a venture in San Diego.”

This time he did repeat her words into the phone. After listening for a moment, he said, “They’re not backing down. But they have a counter-offer for you.”

made her wary. Was he trying to provoke a reaction from her? “Give me a moment. This isn’t a decision I’m authorized to make.”

Walking a distance away, though it wasn’t strictly necessary, she connected to her mother through the PsyNet. Usually they used a simple telepathic link, but Sascha wasn’t strong enough to send over such a long distance. The blunt illustration of her weakness served to remind her to stay on guard. Unlike other cardinals, she was disposable.

Nikita answered at once. “What is it?” Part of her consciousness faced part of Sascha’s in a closed mental room in the vastness of the PsyNet.

Sascha repeated the offer and added, “It’s definitely a prime location in terms of changeling needs. With the SnowDancers putting up the land, our investment is halved so sharing profits isn’t going to cut into our bottom line. We might even do better in the end.”

Nikita paused before answering and Sascha knew she was doing a data search. “Those wolves have a bad habit of trying to take over anything they have a hand in.” Sascha had a feeling that most predatory changelings had a habit of doing that. Look at Lucas—he’d been trying to take her over since the moment he’d laid eyes on her. “They’re not known for property investments. I think this may be an emotional reaction against letting control of their land fall into Psy hands.”

Nikita’s presence winked out. When Sascha returned to Lucas, she found him rubbing the back of his neck as if something had irritated it. Her eyes followed the motion of his arm, fascinated by the sleek lines of muscle obvious even under the leather-synth jacket. Every move he made was fluid, graceful, like a big cat on the prowl.

It was only when he raised a brow that she realized she’d been staring. Fighting a blush, she said, “We’ll agree to their demands if they agree to be a silent party. And that means not a sound out of them.” He dropped his hand from the back of his neck and put the phone to his ear. “They agree—I’ll draft the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

contract.” He closed the small flat communicator.

* * *

Lucas was utterly frustrated. Not only was Sascha refusing to reveal anything useful, she kept picking up on small changeling traits no Psy should’ve been able to sense. Even worse, he was having to fight the urge to educate her rather than subtly interrogating her for answers. “How about this?” He showed her another line of the proposed contract. They were sitting in his office at the top of the DarkRiver building. He’d found her an office right next door. It was the perfect setup. If she’d talk.

She looked at the piece of paper and slid it back across the dark wood of the desk. “If you change the word ‘at’ to ‘in,’ it’s fine with me.”

He thought over the change. “All right. The SnowDancer aren’t going to fight you over that.”

There was a stillness to her that made him want to cover the space between them and stroke his hand over her body. Perhaps touch would achieve what words hadn’t. “Who punishes the ones who take it too far?”

Her eyes met his, unflinching and eerily beautiful. “They know everything that goes on in the PsyNet.

How could they be wrong?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Which meant, he deduced, that not everyone was privy to the secrets of the Net. “But if no one else has access to all the information, how can they be held accountable?”

He almost thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she said, “They are Council. They are above the law.” Lucas wondered if she understood what she’d just admitted. More than that, he wanted to know if she cared . That was truly madness, because the only thing the Psy cared about was the cold sterility of their lives. Except every instinct he had said that Sascha was different.

He had to uncover the truth about her before he did something he regretted. And the best way to crack that impenetrable Psy shell might be to yank her from the safety of the world she knew and throw her into the flames. “How about lunch?”

He stood, satisfaction thrumming in his veins—the trap had sprung. “Let’s go feed the hunger.” Those slightly uptilted eyes seemed to widen but then she blinked and it was gone. Was he fooling himself, imagining emotion on one of the merciless Psy because he found himself drawn to her? Sleeping with the enemy was not part of the plan. Unfortunately, his panther half had a way of destroying the best-laid plans once it began craving a taste of something… or someone.

Almost forty minutes later, Sascha got out of Lucas’s car in front of what he’d told her was a packmate’s home. Located in the wide zone where urban dwellings gradually started giving way to the trailing edges of the forests, the house was isolated at the end of a long drive and appeared to back on to a wooded reserve.

She felt uncertain and out of place. No one had ever taught her how to deal with the situation she was in… because Psy weren’t usually invited into changeling homes. “Are you sure your packmate won’t mind?”

Following him down the hallway, she found herself at the entrance to a large room that appeared to be a kitchen and dining area combined. A rectangular wooden table with six chairs sat to her right. It bore a number of scratches that she thought might’ve come from careless claws. The thick legs were similarly Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

scarred.

The table and chairs sat on a shiny wooden floor covered by a colorful rug that couldn’t disguise the number of scratches in the wood. For the most part, the scratches were thin and closely spaced, far too narrow to have come from leopard paws. They puzzled her analytical Psy mind.

Lucas met her in the middle of the room. “Tamsyn.” Leaning down, he brushed her lips with his. The woman held him for a second before stepping back.

Sascha was shocked at the sick feeling that invaded the pit of her stomach at witnessing the casual intimacy. Trained to recognize emotion so she could destroy it, she identified this one as jealousy. It was characterized by anger and possessiveness and made people extremely vulnerable. The aim of the training had been to teach her how to exploit changeling and human weaknesses, but she’d used the information to mask her own flaw.

Skin privileges.

Mates, lovers, and Pack.

Tamsyn laughed, startling Sascha. She’d forgotten that changelings had far better hearing than the Psy.

The other woman frowned. “What?”

It was Lucas who answered. “We kissed. We touched.”

Sascha wondered if they knew how lucky they were. They could show such extreme emotion without fear that they’d be locked away and rehabilitated. Part of her wanted to tell them that she, too, hungered Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

for touch, that her hunger was so great she was starving. But she knew that was the madness talking.

Changelings despised the Psy. Even if they somehow sympathized, what could they do? Nothing. No one had ever withstood the might of the PsyNet—the only way to leave it was death.

Chocolate. It was a sweet substance coveted by humans and changelings. The Psy meal plan didn’t include it as it had no nutritional value that couldn’t be provided by other, more efficient means.

Her hands itched to trace his markings, to find out if they were soft or hard, sensitive or not. “I haven’t.” She concentrated on the cookie instead of the heat coming off Lucas’s skin. Now that he’d taken off his jacket, she could see far too much sun-golden male flesh.

Tamsyn’s eyes went wide. “You poor thing. You’ve been deprived.”

She swallowed the flare of desire threatening to shatter her control. Lucas Hunter was potent. And a crazy part of her wanted to take a sip of him to see if he tasted as good as he sounded.

Sascha took a careful bite. Sensation flooded her. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying out.

No wonder the church had once termed chocolate an enticement of the devil. Pacing herself, when she wanted to gulp it down and snatch the whole plate for herself, she finished it off. “It has an unusual taste.”

Before she could answer, Lucas did. “The Psy don’t like or dislike, do they, Sascha?”

Sascha wasn’t strong enough to resist. “Since we haven’t yet had lunch, this’ll provide needed calories.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha was confused by the hierarchy in the room. “I thought Lucas was your alpha.” Lucas chuckled. “Yeah, but this is Tamsyn’s kitchen. We might as well sit before she throws a pot at us.” He headed over to the table. “Tammy, I confess. I came here so you’d feed me. Nobody cooks like you.”

Sascha tried to finish her cookie in sedate bites instead of inhaling it. She was going to have to smuggle some chocolate into her quarters. For the first time, she’d found something relatively safe with which to indulge her senses. One more sin would make no difference to a life she’d lived in secret since before she could remember.

They’d just taken their seats when two small leopard cubs barreled into the room. Eyes wide, Sascha watched the pair slide across the shiny wood of the floor before being caught on the rug. Several long, thin scratches marked their passage.

Sascha was riveted by the kittenish mewls coming from their throats.

Tamsyn laughed. “You two charmers. You know you’re not supposed to run in the house. I’ve already lost two vases this week.”

The cubs wiggled.

She almost jumped out of her chair when Lucas growled beside her, a low rumble that came from a human throat but sounded completely feral. The cubs sprang up and growled back. Lucas laughed.

She couldn’t resist. “Fierce.”

One of the cubs suddenly skidded to stand in front of her, so close they were almost nose to nose.

Sascha stared in fascination at those eyes. Then he opened his mouth and growled a baby growl at her.

Laughter bubbled in her throat. How could anyone remain unmoved around such mischief? But she was Psy and she wasn’t allowed to laugh. Yet there was no way she wasn’t going to indulge at least one more sense. She might never get this chance again.

Reaching out, she mimicked Tamsyn’s hold and lifted the cub up by the ruff of his neck. His fur was soft, his body warm. He wiggled and growled, batting at her hands with sheathed claws, and she realized he was playing with her. At that moment, the other cub jumped to land on her lap and began to climb up her body.

Lost, she turned to Lucas. His amusement was obvious. “Don’t look at me, darling.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She narrowed her eyes at her two little playmates. “I’m Psy. I can turn you into rats.” The cubs stopped wiggling. Picking up the one in her lap, she put them both on the table in front of her and leaned down to their level. “Be very careful of people like me.” It was a soft, sincere warning. “We don’t know how to play nice.”

Scooting forward on little baby paws, one of the cubs licked the tip of her nose in a quick movement.

She was so startled that she blurted out, “What does that mean?”

CHAPTER 4

The cubs scooted under the table, one of them curling himself up on Sascha’s leather-synth boots. The heavy warmth brought tears to her eyes. In an effort to hide her reaction, she looked down at the table and focused on the way Lucas continued to hold her plait.

He was sliding his fingers up and down, as though he liked the feel of the strands against his fingertips.

The smooth, repetitive motion was oddly arousing—would he stroke other body parts with such exquisite care?

Her thoughts could get her interned at the Center but she didn’t care. She’d experienced more sensations in the space of the last few hours than she had in the rest of her lifetime combined. It terrified her and yet she knew she’d be back tomorrow. She’d be back until someone found out.

And then she’d fight to the death. She would not be rehabilitated, would not allow her mind to be turned into a mockery of who she was.

he was, he’d probably ask for more.

Stubbornness had always been her Achilles’ heal. “I’ll survive. Thank you, Tamsyn.”

At the same moment, she became aware of baby leopard teeth nibbling at the toe of her boot.

Sascha knew she should reach down and dislodge the cub but she didn’t want to. Drowning in sensation was far preferable to being conditioned to numbness. A discreet chime interrupted her in midthought.

It took a second for her to realize it was her organizer. Reaching into the inner pocket of her jacket, she checked the caller ID and then linked to the other Psy, who was close enough for simple telepathic contact.

first place?”

Lucas touched her shoulder with the fingers of the hand he had across the back of her chair. “I thought the PsyNet meant you were all in constant contact.” The PsyNet wasn’t a secret but neither was it to be talked about in detail. She’d failed part of her conditioning but this had held. Her mouth opened and she said, “Perhaps we should be leaving for our meeting.”

She felt his entire body go so motionless, it was like he’d turned into the lethal beast he carried within.

Lucas Hunter wasn’t used to being told no. “Of course.” She should’ve feared this side of his nature, but found herself fascinated. “Thank you for lunch,” she said to Tamsyn, wriggling her foot so the cub would let go. She didn’t want to hurt him or get him in trouble.

He clung.

Lucas pushed back his chair and stood. “Tell Nate I dropped by.” Tamsyn began to stand. Aware that she couldn’t remain sitting, Sascha decided to take a risk. Sending out a narrow telepathic beam, she spoke to the cub. Let go, baby, or you’ll get in trouble . She’d expected to have difficulty contacting him but the link was made in an instant, as if she were talking to a child Psy. The find was something she should’ve immediately fed into the PsyNet but she didn’t. It felt like betrayal.

The cub—Julian—couldn’t answer, but he let go. He was pleased she hadn’t told on him because he wasn’t supposed to be chewing on shoes anymore. He was a big boy. Trying not to smile, she rose to her feet. It was difficult to keep her boot out of sight as she walked to the door but she maneuvered so that Lucas’s big frame was between her and Tamsyn.

Sascha had frozen the instant Tamsyn touched her, feeling such overwhelming kindness from the brunette that she could do nothing else. She’d always imagined she could read the emotions of others but her delusions had never been this bad—there was simply no raw material in the Psy world to feed the fantasies of her fractured mind.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The healer of DarkRiver was no fool. “Still nothing?”

Sascha was already in the vehicle when he took the driver’s seat. “Your first time with changeling children?”

She was silent for the next stretch of road, as if thinking over what he’d said. “What about clothing?

What happens to it when you change?”

Both sides of his nature liked the idea of disturbing this intriguing female on a sensual level, but as alpha, he had to consider the deeper ramifications of what he’d learned… and how it could be used against her.

He tried to keep his exhilaration under control. “We have no overall leadership. Each pack is autonomous.”

She stared at him for a second before saying, “Perhaps you should watch the road.” Cool, practical, and without feeling. Except for the fact that the toe of her boot had been chewed by baby leopard teeth.

He obeyed her this once. “To answer your question, no, it’s not a choice like marriage—at least not for the leopards. Once we find our mate, the only choice we have is whether or not to take the final step.

There’s no walking away after that’s done.”

She paused. “It is secret?”

He wondered if she’d be this inquisitive in all aspects of life. A curious lover was the ultimate lure to his panther soul. “I can’t answer that—I’m not mated.” He’d seen his father’s heart shredded by his mother’s death. Part of him didn’t want to be that vulnerable to anyone.

It was one of the reasons he’d never nurtured a long-term relationship with any female, human or changeling. Mating couldn’t be so easily influenced, but he’d done his damnedest to limit the chances of his mate finding him.

If she did hunt him down despite that, he’d accept her and then he’d never let her out of his sight. Forget Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

about freedom—his mate was going to be protected every moment of her life. Pulling to a stop in the parking lot of the DarkRiver building, he switched off the engine and slid up the door of the car.

The question had him turning to face those night-sky eyes. No Psy should’ve ever asked that. No Psy should’ve ever heard the ambivalence in his voice. “Do you ?”

He reached out and stroked a finger down her face, wanting to see what she’d do. “I’ll tell you the answer to that once you have skin privileges.”

She froze at his touch and then jerked away to exit the car. When he joined her on the other side, she kept at least a foot of distance between them. He wanted to close that distance badly enough to scare himself. The enemy was starting to look far too enticing. The feel of her skin had been a jolt to the senses, the dark honey like warm gold brushed with velvet, sensuous and luscious.

The panther in him craved more, while the man… the man was starting to think that Sascha Duncan was unique, a Psy unlike any other. Whether that made her less dangerous or more remained to be seen.

What was clear was that both panther and man were captivated by her.

Kit was waiting for them in the meeting room. “Hi, Lucas.” At a fraction under six feet, the boy was tall but hadn’t yet filled out. Not that it mattered at his age. With his rich auburn hair and dark blue eyes, he was never short of female company. But Lucas knew the juvenile was more than good looks—he had the scent of a future alpha.

Kit smiled in that way he’d already learned brought most women to their knees, all slow burn and promises of delight. “A pleasure.”

Sascha nodded. “Do you have the designs?”

Lucas wanted to laugh at the crestfallen look on the boy’s face. “Kit works part-time as a general assistant. Zara is the designer.” He shrugged out of his jacket.

As he spoke her name, a small female with mocha skin and cloud gray eyes walked in through the door behind them. Sascha immediately shifted to avoid contact but the move was so unobtrusive that neither Zara nor Kit noticed.

Sascha took a seat to his left, with Zara to her left and Kit beside the designer. Lucas had noticed Sascha glance at Zara several times since she’d entered the room and so, apparently, had Zara. “If you have a problem working with me, tell me now.” The petite woman wasn’t one to keep silent.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha didn’t react in any physical way but he was sure he smelled confusion. “Why would I have trouble working with you? Are you unable to do your job?”

Lucas felt Kit’s beast buck at the reins and couldn’t blame the boy for wanting to touch. Sascha’s skin was an invitation to the senses and now that he’d stroked it once, he found himself starving for more.

Zara laughed. “If you’re not bothered by color, then why are you staring at me?”

Zara didn’t answer until he gave her a subtle nod. “I’m not. I’m a distant cousin—wildcat.”

However, this tidbit was common knowledge. “Once I’d enticed her to join us, I had to ensure her safety.” To guarantee that, he’d “adopted” her into DarkRiver for the duration of her stay. She was marked by the scent of him and his sentinels so that enemies and friends alike knew who she belonged to.

If she hadn’t been… There was a reason predatory changelings were very careful about straying into areas controlled by other predators. Enforcement officers had no jurisdiction in intra-changeling disputes, and the changeling way of settling things could be savage.

It occasionally put them on the back foot in terms of business because the Psy could move much faster.

But it balanced out in the end—unlike the Psy, they had an open-and-shut friend-enemy line. There was no backstabbing. His race preferred to go straight for the throat.

He’d never before met one who seemed to respect their ways enough to want to learn them. Was she merely curious by nature or was she the advance guard of a subtle invasion, feeding everything she learned into the PsyNet?

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Zara rolled out one plan. “This is the design for the first home.”

Kit grinned. “Yum, yum. I love deer shish kebab.”

Sascha looked at him as if examining a bug. To his credit the juvenile didn’t fidget and even tried out his smile again. Sascha’s response was to shut her eyes for three seconds. When she opened them, she said,

Before Zara could speak, Sascha asked another question. “How likely are the wolves and the leopards to coexist peacefully? I don’t want to waste money building for the wolves if they’re not going to go near the leopards and vice versa.”

This was beyond unusual. Lucas knew he had to start looking very carefully at this slender Psy who thought disturbingly like a changeling. He said, “We’ve declared a truce that allows us to live together without major bloodshed. The bulk of the residents will be leopards but there’ll be enough wolves for it to be worth planning for them. There’s a shortage of homes for both species.” This was because the Psy owned a lot of building enterprises and they built the coffins Kit had mentioned—small, compact homes no self-respecting predator would go for. The Duncan family had been the first to grasp the need for changeling involvement in the initial phases of a development. In order to lure the hunters, the beasts of prey, you had to think like them.

Zara chose that moment to speak. “This is the design I like for the cats and this for the wolves.” She put

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

two fairly basic plans on the table. “I’m going to customize from there to take the land, the views, and the available runs into account. For a few homes, I’ll begin from scratch in order to match the client’s personality.”

Sascha studied the designs. “To do that you’d have to know who was going to be the purchaser.”

She looked away. “So you already knew you’d fulfill your part of the bargain when you negotiated the bonus.”

Good thing he’d never liked easy prey.

CHAPTER 5

Sascha returned to the Duncan building and made a quick visit to her apartment before heading up to her mother’s office. She’d begun repairing the fissures in her inner shields the moment she’d left DarkRiver and by the time she walked into the office, her heart was locked behind so many layers of power that she betrayed nothing, even when she found Santano Enrique ensconced with Nikita.

Belying his Latin name, the other cardinal was a tall blond with almost too-pale skin. Nothing about him said he was sixty years of age but Sascha was well aware of the time he’d had to hone his considerable powers.

Sascha wasn’t surprised that her mother had shared the information with the other Councilor. Enrique was an academic, not a business rival. That made him no less deadly. None of the Council were people you’d turn your back on. “Yes, sir.”

She’d always been uneasy around Enrique. Maybe it was because he was an off-the-scale Tk-Psy with Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

so much telekinetic power that he could crush her without blinking. Or maybe it was because he had a way of looking at her as if he could see inside her skull. She wanted nobody in the confines of her mind.

Sascha tried to understand the conversational undercurrents between them without success—the Psy were great at keeping secrets and she was talking to two masters of the art.

They are Council. They are above the law.

It had taken a changeling to make her see the truth. The Council were a law unto themselves. When they spoke, the PsyNet trembled. And when they sentenced an individual to rehabilitation, there was no Court of Appeal.

Looking into her mother’s cool brown eyes, Sascha accepted that if the moment came, Nikita would vote to put her own daughter in the Center rather than lose her position of power.

Those who felt emotion were the enemy… and enemies were to be shown no pity.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Then there was Lucas.

He was the first male she’d ever met who sent her hormones into complete overdrive. Her years of Psy training felt like nothing when she was with him. The worst thing was, she didn’t care.

After much thought, she’d decided that the only way to get rid of the voracious need pushing at her shields was to indulge it in a safe environment. The actual event couldn’t be that difficult—she’d done her research, memorized several books of positions and skills.

Her heartbeat staggered at the thought of what she was considering, throwing doubt on her certainties.

What if it didn’t work? What if a taste made her crave more?

Impossible, she told herself. She wasn’t that far gone, not yet completely lost. She was still Psy, still cardinal. It was all she knew how to be.

Lucas met with his sentinels late that night. Sprawled around his lair, Nate, Vaughn, Clay, Mercy, and Dorian were the toughest members of the pack. In a one-on-one fight, every one of them would lose to him. But together they were formidable. As he’d told Sascha, if he broke vital Pack laws they’d take him down. Until then, they were his absolutely.

Not all pack alphas commanded such pure loyalty, but he’d earned his, earned it in the bloodiest, most Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

terrible of ways. A fist squeezed his heart as memories of his parents awakened. It was always worse at this time of year, the ghosts of the past constant whispers in his mind.

They’d been cut down before they’d had a chance to live, and he’d been forced to watch. Like all children, he’d grown. Unlike most other young men, he’d grown into an alpha Hunter with the capacity to track down murderers and the brutal strength to demand justice. For some crimes forgiveness was impossible and vengeance the only cure.

Somehow, it didn’t fit with the image of the woman who’d let a baby leopard gnaw on her boot. Nothing about Sascha Duncan fit the Psy mold and that made her unique. A unique Psy was a contradiction in terms.

Lucas agreed. The Psy had the biggest drug problem on the planet. As long as they didn’t try to addict his people, he didn’t care how many of them killed themselves.

Adopted into DarkRiver over twenty years ago at barely ten years of age, he was Lucas’s closest friend and quite possibly the only male capable of holding the pack together if Lucas were killed, in spite of the fact that, to the leopards, he didn’t have the scent of an alpha.

The jaguar changelings had remained truer to their animal roots—they were solitary wanderers for the most part and didn’t need a hierarchy. But Vaughn had been raised as a leopard and Lucas thought of him as another alpha, one who’d given him his loyalty by choice. He was also one of the three sentinels who’d been there the night Lucas had turned the moon blood-red with vengeance. The jaguar had been Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

seventeen at the time.

Lucas raised a brow. “What did you find out?”

And if Nikita knew, then it was almost impossible that Sascha, her cardinal heir, didn’t. He was having trouble accepting her complicity in the cover-up—the panther in him was captivated by her, and he didn’t want to be captivated by cruelty. “Sascha is our way in.” Clay, who’d been sitting silently on a window ledge, finally spoke. “Can we break her?” Lucas knew what the sentinel was asking. Nobody on the changeling side was willing to play nice anymore, not after eight of their women had been butchered in the most brutal way.

Dorian laughed. “You don’t know the Psy, Clay. They’re about as vulnerable to sex as I am to mating Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

with a SnowDancer.”

Lucas let the idea wash over him. Seducing Sascha was a strangely compelling idea. His body recognized hers in a way that made not touching her an exercise in restraint. The panther wanted to lay her down and luxuriate in the essence of her femininity, while the man wanted to shatter the shell she lived inside and discover the real woman. What made him wary was the possibility of learning that she was rotten to the core, daughter to a woman who’d killed with cold brilliance.

Lucas shifted into panther form after the sentinels had disbanded, and went for a run. A second after he set out, he knew that one of them was following him. The sentinels existed to protect him but they weren’t his bodyguards—no leopard liked to be babysat. Clay was good enough to have hidden his scent if he’d wanted to. The fact that he hadn’t meant he was asking permission to join his alpha.

Circling back, Lucas came close to sneaking up on the sentinel, but he moved out of reach a bare instant before Lucas dropped down from the tree limb he’d been padding along. They greeted each other with throaty rumbles and then set off. It was something beyond price to run like this, to let the night air whisper along his fur, to blend into the darkness until he was only a shadow and Clay an orange-black blur.

Running with his sentinels was one of the things every alpha did to strengthen the bonds of loyalty. Lucas had no need to do that with Clay. Like Vaughn and Nate, the sentinel had been tied to him since the night they’d hunted down and savagely ripped every single male member of a roaming leopard clan into tiny little pieces. It had been changeling justice. An eye for an eye. Vengeance to lay his parents’ souls to rest.

Now he ran with the sentinels because they were tough, fast, and dangerous enough to test him to the limit. No alpha could afford to let his skills slip. Though they were more civilized than their wild brethren, an alpha’s rule would only be accepted as long as he was strong enough to lead the pack. And such strength wasn’t always of the body.

The Psy thought the changelings stupid because they sacrificed the wisdom of their elders in favor of young blood. The Psy didn’t know anything. The sentinels withdrew from frontline positions as they grew older because they had to be physically invulnerable—Nate was already on the lookout for his replacement. Upon retirement as a sentinel, he would become one of Lucas’s advisors, his rank undiminished.

If Lucas retained the incoming sentinels’ respect as he aged, they’d take over the physical role he played in the pack—meting out Pack justice and keeping Pack discipline. During such times, those who didn’t understand their ways often came to believe that the strongest of the sentinels had become the new alpha.

Changelings saw no need to educate them otherwise.

But that was in the unknown future. Right now he had to be the most lethal of them all, savage and brilliant. Because not only was the pack watching but so were the SnowDancers. One hint of weakness in DarkRiver and the wolves would come down on them in a hail of teeth and claws.

He couldn’t allow his inexplicable attraction to one of the Psy sway him from his goal. More depended on this than merely the sating of vengeance. After DarkRiver had realized the existence of a serial killer Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

preying on changeling women, they’d warned all other changeling groups in the killer’s hunting grounds.

Every single alpha had wanted to go for the jugular—none more so than the wolves.

Lucas had insisted on taking on the job of hunting the killer because in spite of losing Kylie, he was the lone alpha who could still think. It was as if the blood that had christened him had also given him the ability to see beyond the dark-red glimmer of fury and retribution.

The SnowDancers had reluctantly handed him the reins because his pack had lost a member while theirs hadn’t. But their patience was limited. The wolves knew that sooner or later, the killer would strike them too. The second that happened, all bets were off—the SnowDancers would begin to hunt down the Psy and the Psy would retaliate, leading to war on a catastrophic scale.

Lucas slept deeply after the exertion of a run that had left even Clay exhausted. He’d expected only darkness but the most exquisite pleasure welcomed him into his dreams.

Slender fingers traveled down his front as he lay sprawled on his back, exploring him so carefully that he felt owned. No woman had ever come close to owning Lucas Hunter, but in this dreamworld he allowed her to play. After endless moments, the fingers stopped their stroking and he felt the brush of wet heat against his nipple. His dream-lover was taking her time licking circles around it, arousing him to fever pitch. Opening his eyes, he tangled a hand in the silky curls cascading over his chest.

Her head rose and night-sky eyes met his.

He wasn’t surprised. The panther in him had found Sascha Duncan enticing from the start and in this dreamworld, it was okay to let that fascination free, to indulge his feline curiosity about this most unusual woman. Here there was no possibility of war and she was no longer an emissary of the enemy.

Those eyes widened in shock. “This is my dream.”

He chuckled. Even in his dreams, she was as willful as she was in life. He’d begun to suspect that not everything was efficiency with Sascha. No, sometimes she just liked sharpening her claws on him. “I’m at your mercy.”

She made an annoyed sound and sat up on her knees. “Why are you talking?” He folded his arms behind his head, delighted by the sight of her lush breasts displayed so beautifully for him. He liked this dream. Even the panther was pleased. “Don’t you want me to?” He made it a temptation.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He wanted to bite down on that sexy mouth she was teasing him with. “Every stroke.” The markings were highly sensitive and he was very, very choosy about who he let touch them.

She took a shaky breath and did as he’d asked. “Cats like to be petted.” It was a soft murmur.

She shivered. “Why would I dream of you touching me? I want to touch you.”

He tried not to grin. “Who do you let pet you?”

He would never say no to being petted by this exotic female who fascinated him. Not when she looked at him with fire not ice in her gaze. His hand clenched on her bottom as she nibbled, licked, and sucked at his nipple with the utmost attention to detail. She didn’t stop him when he ran his fingers down her thigh, luxuriating in that honeyed skin he wanted to lick all over.

Her mouth moved to his neglected nipple, one hand reaching down to scrape the nails up his thigh. He growled softly in the back of his throat. She looked up. “What does that mean?” Her hand had dropped to lay against his inner thigh, excruciatingly close to his rock-hard erection.

Her head tilted slightly to one side and he remembered her questions in the car. Odd that his subconscious would remember that small giveaway gesture, but then again, this whole dream was odd.

Not that he was complaining.

She gasped and pulled away. “Not yet.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He was used to taking control but there was something in her eyes that told him she’d disappear if he pushed any harder. He put his hands back under his head, telling her without words that he was hers to play with. For now. As if she’d heard the unspoken caveat, she moved down the bed and straddled his thighs midway up his legs.

He looked his fill of that lush female body and knew he was going to mark her when he took her.

Nothing hurtful. Just a bite or two, a playful nip here and there in places where no one could mistake their meaning. Sascha Duncan was going to be Lucas Hunter’s woman.

Night-sky eyes wide, she wrapped one slender hand around his jutting erection. He shuddered.

She squeezed and then began to move her hand up and down. “Why does this make me feel good?” Her voice was heavy with sexual heat, her breath coming out in soft pants. “There was nothing about this in the manuals.”

Moving his hands from behind his head, he reached down and pulled her forward by gripping her thighs.

She came only so far and not far enough. “What?”

Lucas was used to sex, used to sensual women who knew what they were doing, but this Psy with her questions and her strange innocence had him so desperately hungry, he was starting to lose the ability to think. “Suck me, kitten. Taste me.” The raw demand came from the animal heart of him.

She didn’t scare. And he was pleased. “Taste you? Yes… I have to taste you… have to satisfy the craving.” Scooting down his body, she knelt on all fours, knees between his legs, hands on his hip bones.

Then she dipped her head and began to taste him as he’d asked.

He clenched his hand in her hair, telling himself not to buck as his body demanded. The sweet suction of her mouth was the most intense pleasure he’d ever experienced. When he saw lights flicker behind his eyes, he knew they were shifting from human to cat, cat to human. Only the most extreme edge of arousal could make him lose that much control.

Using his other hand to push her hair back, he watched her as she moved her head up and down the hard length of his erection, the sight serving to arouse him almost to madness. The need to pound into the silky heat between her legs was a driving rhythm in his brain, but tonight, he was at her mercy… and she wanted him in her mouth. He came with a growl that reverberated around the room, the thick richness of her hair in his fists.

There was no answer.

With a frown, he opened his eyes. And found himself in his lair, spent, pleasured, and alone.

CHAPTER 6

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha was having trouble meeting Lucas’s gaze, scared he’d be able to see the erotic images flashing through her mind like a full-motion picture. What was happening to her? She’d spent last night lost in the most seductive dreams of her life, had woken gasping for release, her skin wet with perspiration.

And Lucas had been the star figure in her fantasies.

The plan had been to get him out of her system by programming her brain to dream about him. She’d intended to let her senses run wild in the safety of her mind and indulge until she was sated. It had backfired horribly. She’d had her taste and now found she wanted even more. Like an addict, she craved the sensations he’d shown her.

She couldn’t help but remember how those same eyes had looked as she’d used her mouth to suck him to orgasm. That word brought her to her senses. Her shields were cracking again and he was the catalyst.

Was there a subtle innuendo in that sentence? No, she told herself. How could there be? She was the one who’d had the dreams. Lucas surely had no need for release found in fantasy—she’d seen the way women looked at him. And why not? He was a man who made no bones about his sexuality and even she understood the kind of primal heat a male like that could produce.

Once again, her mind threatened to run away with her sanity. Shoving up shield after mental shield, she said, “My rest was disturbed but I’m perfectly capable of functioning.” As soon as she got control of her runaway thoughts.

pleasurable.”

Wet heat flared. She pressed her thighs tight, terrifyingly aware that her body had reacted in a way a changeling might detect. Panic had her shoving everything deep into the secret compartments of her mind.

The panther inside Lucas crouched low, tracking Sascha’s every movement. Man and beast were both puzzled—what was it about her that had triggered the sensual eroticism of that dream? In life she was as cold as ice, as touchable as a hunk of metal. Aside from the hint of fire in those cardinal eyes that he refused to believe was a figment of his imagination.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He froze as he picked up the faintest traces of female arousal. The panther lunged at the walls of his mind, telling him to take her, that she was ready. The man wasn’t so certain. What if it was a Psy trick—the ultimate back door into his mind? Until he knew for sure, he wouldn’t be stroking Sascha except in his dreams.

She nodded. “But Tatiana Rika-Smythe was younger at the time of her ascension. She’s only thirty-five now.”

He shrugged and gestured for her to enter the elevator ahead of him. “Never hurts to make sure.” In the closed atmosphere, the scent of her was intoxicating to his animal senses. She was pure woman, lush and barely awakened, and he was very interested, the panther in him arrogantly convinced that her reaction was without trickery. He had to force down the low growl that gathered at the back of his throat. Now was not the time to stalk this particular prey.

Sascha walked out beside him, graceful and eerily beautiful with those eyes that kept startling people who came up on them. Cardinals were not often seen outside the rarefied walls of the Psy headquarters.

It was critical he find out why he’d been honored with Sascha Duncan.

Sascha gave him a sharp glance. “You’re very interested in the Council.”

She walked through the doorway before speaking. “I may be a cardinal but I’m not as high up as you seem to believe. Simply because my mother is Council doesn’t mean I’m in the inner circle. I’m just another Psy.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Blood and death or something else?

She had to start remembering that Lucas’s last name wasn’t merely a name—it was a designation. “May I ask you a question?” she said before she could talk herself out of it. Notwithstanding her awareness of his nature, her interest in him continued to heighten. And each time she gave in to the need, it created another chip in the already fragile wall of her sanity. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

He paused in front of the door that likely led to the construction supervisor’s workspace. “Ask.”

Frustrated, she walked in and found herself standing a heartbeat away from a dark-skinned man with eyes a deeper shade of green than Lucas’s. Something about him made her want to take a step back…

and run.

Sascha knew the changeling in front of her was much more than that. “Mr. Bennett.” The man’s eyes were so calm that she should’ve felt at home with him. Instead he reminded her of a cobra lulling his prey into a false sense of security—the second she lowered her guard, he’d instigate a deadly strike.

he was mocking the simplistic Psy view of changelings, mocking her. The urge to give back as good as she got was a devil on her shoulder—a mad part of her thought it might almost be worth it simply to see the look on his face.

Lucas went unnaturally still beside her. “You’ve done your research.”

A few minutes later, Sascha closed the door of the lavatory, put down the lid, and sat. Her whole body shuddered. What a joke. She was no Psy. She was a woman close to the edge of insanity, reduced to hiding in toilets in order to repair the fractured walls of her mind.

Her organizer chimed before she’d done more than gather together the ragged edges of her psyche. It was Santano Enrique, requesting a conference on the PsyNet. The inside of her mouth suddenly felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool.

Enrique was too powerful a Psy, had had too many years of experience at spotting mistakes. She didn’t want him connected to her in any way. None of the other Councilors had ever approached her telepathically or on the PsyNet—they preferred to talk face-to-face if necessary. She knew why, of course. They weren’t sure that she hadn’t inherited her mother’s deadly little ability.

Refusing Enrique’s call wasn’t an option. Hurriedly completing the repairs on her shields, she closed her eyes and took a step into darkness. The glittering plane of the PsyNet opened before her, filled with the endless stars, bright and faded, large and small, that represented the minds of the Psy. Enrique blazed and so did she. They were both cardinals. The crucial difference was, she had no real power, while he could pulverize her with a thought.

His consciousness was waiting for her. “Thank you for coming, Sascha.”

It wasn’t a question so she didn’t answer.

If they’d come from anyone but a Psy, she would’ve said that the words were meant to prick her pride and make her speak without thinking. Unless, of course, that was his plan. Was that why he was paying her so much attention suddenly—because he suspected she was flawed?

All these frantic thoughts buzzed in a small, secret part of her. It was the same place where she hid the core of her self—the shining rainbow of her mind. Layered in multiple shields she continually reinforced, it couldn’t be breached by anyone without using such brutal force that it would kill her.

Fear spiked in that small, secret heart. “What, sir?” This had to be a trap. Why would a Councilor, a cardinal with off-the-scale Tk powers, be asking her for a favor?

It was the last thing she’d expected. “I’d be happy to do so, sir, but—”

It was a bribe, pure and simple. Her hunger to finally be accepted and valued as a cardinal urged her to accept the offer and not look back. Conversely, that very hunger also made her aware that no matter how much she tried, she’d never be normal. Getting closer to the Council would only increase her chances of being exposed.

The ashes of lost dreams floated to her feet and in the deepest, most hidden core of her soul, she cried.

Only years of Psy training and a desperate desire to hide the truth of her broken mind had her answering logically. “They’re understandably cautious around me. I’m not sure I’ll discover anything.” It was a lie.

Already she knew so much no Psy had ever known, but she found herself unable to give up their secrets… Lucas’s secrets.

Sascha saw it as a gift. “I’d be happy to cooperate but first I have to—”

Sascha was beyond scared now. She didn’t want Enrique evaluating her daily. “I’m sorry, sir. That could interfere with my work and I’m sure Mother wouldn’t like that. I’ll contact you as soon as I have anything worth sharing.” It was a daring statement and if she’d allowed herself to feel, she would’ve been trembling.

Enrique’s presence on the PsyNet was a pure white star, so cold that she wanted to shiver. “Don’t wait Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

too long.”

Sascha dropped out of the PsyNet and immediately contacted the head of her household as any good Psy would do. She could telepath without problem at this range, which at least gave her relief from keeping constant vigilance over her consciousness. During telepathic communications, neither party could

As soon as Nikita answered, she outlined Enrique’s requests, hugging her arms so tight around her body that she almost bruised her own ribs. If her mother told her to keep those daily meetings…

Enrique has overstepped his bounds. Nikita’s mental voice was frigid. I gave him permission to solicit information, not tie you to a schedule .

Relief threatened to turn her limbs to jelly. Mother, I think it would be preferable if I gave you any pertinent information and you… shared it with Enrique . The pause was calculated. Nikita enjoyed being in a position of power. You’re the head of the household — I should be reporting to you first in any case.

Nikita was silent for a couple of seconds. I’d already considered that. Unfortunately, Enrique is too strong to defy without consequences. And he wants to talk to you .

Perhaps, Sascha said, thinking desperately, you could imply to him that I find dealing with his powerful presence too much on top of my first independent project .

Now you’re thinking like a Duncan. Nikita was clearly pleased. He can’t argue with me for trying to protect the deal .

The deal, Sascha thought, not her daughter. Even though she should’ve been used to the heartlessness of the Psy after a lifetime of living with them, she felt a sharp stab of hurt. Then I’m free to concentrate on the development and keep you up to speed ?

Yes.

With that, Nikita was gone. Sascha allowed herself a huge sigh of relief and dropped her head into her hands. Something was wrong. It wasn’t paranoia. Why was Enrique suddenly so concerned with a failed cardinal most of the Psy ignored? Doubly troubling was the extent of Nikita’s cooperation with the other Councilor.

Her gut twisted. She had a feeling she was being used as a pawn in a game for which she didn’t know the rules. What worried her even more was that she didn’t know the consequences of checkmate… or how to stop it.

Suddenly realizing she’d been sitting there staring into nothingness, she stood up and only then did the ridiculousness of her situation strike her. She’d just had conversations with two members of the Council while sitting on the closed lid of a toilet. The thought had her stifling giggles as she lifted the lid and opened the door.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

When she checked her appearance in the mirror above the basin, she was surprised to find that nothing betrayed her slight case of hysteria. Her physical masks were holding, even as the mental ones broke down piece by piece. Glancing at her timepiece, she saw that she’d been in here for almost thirty minutes.

The changelings would be full of questions and she’d better have answers for them.

Before heading out, she ensured that she looked exactly as she should—every hair on her head smoothed into a tight braid, the cuffs of her dark gray suit perfectly aligned, and her face so calm that she almost convinced herself her stomach wasn’t tied up in knots.

Nobody was in the corridor but heads turned the instant she walked back into the room used by Clay Bennett and the others. One particular pair of green eyes tracked her every move. “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said, before anyone could speak. “I was called into conference.” Lucas tapped at the side of his head with a finger. “That kind of conference?” His lips curved.

She wanted to tease him back so badly. “Yes.”

She couldn’t help herself. “In what way?”

Kit stopped looking through some papers on Clay’s desk and stared at her. When she calmly stared back, he started to turn red, looking as young and adorable as the two cubs she’d been allowed to touch. “Um, well… d-don’t you… I have to get these upstairs.” He grabbed what looked like a random pile of papers and almost ran from the room.

She fought not to let her lips twitch. “I was merely asking a question.” His eyes narrowed. “Sure you were.”

An odd tension seemed to infiltrate the room.

disregard his feelings.

As he’d suspected from the start, this Psy was different, very different. Different enough to be dangerous… unless her own people hadn’t picked up on her uniqueness. It wasn’t impossible—in some matters the Psy were quite blind, blinkered by their belief in their own superiority.

Lucas’s gut said that Sascha was the key to everything. If he solved the mystery of her, he might come close to shattering the closed walls of the most inhuman of races.

Lucas called Clay into his office after Sascha had returned to Duncan headquarters. “What did you think?”

To his surprise, Clay shook his head. “Some of them are so cerebral that they barely notice anything physical.”

The confirmation of his own instincts added impetus to his determination to solve the mystery that was Sascha. “What did the background check turn up?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

window.” The SnowDancers wanted to torture information out of those they blamed for condoning the killings, including Nikita Duncan. “The Psy will retaliate against all of us and they won’t spare the cubs.” Clay nodded. They’d been through this before and the same thing had swayed them back then.

DarkRiver was a powerful but young pack. They had a lot of cubs and juveniles under their protection. If the Psy struck back after a SnowDancer attack, the entire next generation could be wiped out in one bloody wave. Even Dorian’s thirst for vengeance had been overpowered by his deep-rooted need to keep their young safe.

CHAPTER 7

That night, when he finally went to bed after a lengthy meeting with his sentinels, his mind was full of images of death. His desire to find justice for their women warred with his unexpected need to protect Sascha from harm. It was baffling but he was beginning to feel as if she had a prior claim on his loyalty.

It only seemed fitting that his dreams should echo his very real hunger. When he “woke” inside the dreamworld, it was to find himself sprawled on his front as a feminine hand stroked the back of his thigh.

The touch was familiar and as acceptable to the panther who was his other half as it was to the human male. She had skin privileges. He looked over his shoulder. “You’re back.” Sascha jerked away. “You’re talking.”

In his dreams she was the woman he needed her to be—hot and needy and wild enough to tantalize.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, kitten. Was I too fast for you last time?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Tapping at her lower lip with a finger, she nodded. “That makes sense.” He reached out and pulled her down beside him without warning. Night-sky eyes went huge in surprise.

When he rose so that he was braced over her, she couldn’t hold back her gasp. His erection was hot and hard between them. Given that “she” had imagined him naked on a large bed, it was difficult to ignore, especially since it was nudging at her navel.

Before she could tell him that this was her dream and he shouldn’t be interfering, he leaned down and nuzzled at her neck, taking her scent into his bloodstream. “I’m never going to be an easily controllable lover, in your dreams or out of them.”

Her hands clenched on his biceps. “But—”

She took a ragged breath. “I don’t want to fantasize about anyone else.” The panther let out an almost subvocal growl. Running his hand down her side, he said, “I’m possessive and I’m territorial. Can you handle that?” Under his palm, the supple skin of her bottom felt beautifully bitable.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, then tunneled into his hair, her body moving restlessly against his. He let her feel more of his weight, bracing himself on one arm so he could move the other up and down her body. On the upward stroke, he cupped her breast, shaping and petting.

He froze at the sound of real distress. “Did I hurt you?” Looking up, he searched her face.

She shook her head. “I can’t feel so much so soon.” Panic shimmered in the dark skies he was getting used to seeing in his dreams.

A short pause and then she shook her head, the defiant nature of her personality asserting itself. “If I’m going to go down, at least I’ll know what I died for.” His hackles rose. “Who are you frightened of?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The sound she made fed the hunger but it also fed the protectiveness. He let her catch her breath before taking her lips in another kiss, but this time he gentled himself. This time, he used his tongue to tangle with hers. The surprised jerk of her body gave way to enthusiastic participation only seconds later.

Certain that she was ready to embrace the next step of their dance, he bit her lower lip as he broke the kiss and moved down the slender vulnerability of her neck. Half covered by the lace of her bra, the tender upper curves of her breasts teased at his every male instinct. She was more than a handful and he was delighted.

She shuddered. “I’m n-not a cat.”

Chuckling, he let his thumb and forefinger play with the taut bud of one nipple. Her fingers dug into his skull. He arched into the caress and she understood, raking her hands through his hair hard enough for him to feel the pressure against his scalp. Just like he’d taught her last time. “You remember, too.” He replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking the nipple hard and tight through the lace.

Releasing the suction, he returned to steal another kiss while her chest heaved up and down under him.

She tasted tarter than last time, as if the spice in her nature had risen to the top. “Did you like that?” he asked against her lips, not waiting for an answer before moving down to repeat the teasing caress on her neglected breast.

Her body almost bowed as sensation shot through her. The pressure of his weight kept her from arching all the way up but he couldn’t keep her completely immobile. Suddenly, his erection was cradled in the vee of her thighs, snug against the place it wanted to be. All he had to do was push aside the gusset of her panties and he could have her. Claim her. Brand her.

Claws pushed against the skin of his humanity.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to move away. Slender feminine limbs wrapped around his hips, holding him tight. “Let go.” He was so close to the edge that he was starting to see the world through the panther’s eyes.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Then he started moving again.

Her eyes fluttered shut and reopened as if by force of will, her exotic skin shimmering with a layer of perspiration. Rich and heady, the musky scent of her was a carnal invitation. She lasted a couple of minutes this time before he had to stop and bring her back down until she could handle it again.

Each time she lasted longer and his control grew more fragile. He wanted this female with a hunger he’d never before felt. He wanted to ravage her, adore her, mark her. But even the panther knew she had to come to him willingly. There could be no doubt between them, no boundaries and no hesitation, because when the panther shattered its bonds and animal hunger took over, she had to trust him absolutely.

Otherwise they’d both break.

Somewhere during the teasing, he got off her bra and feasted his eyes on the beauty of her breasts. She was too dazed by pleasure to protest the kisses he dropped on the upper slopes or the caresses he bestowed with one of his hands. He kept everything easy, getting her used to her own sensuality.

It threatened to drive him to madness.

He could be like this in bed but it was usually after he’d sated himself in his partner’s body and drunk deep of her screams of pleasure. The panther wasn’t selfish—it merely liked to quench the edge of its thirst before it started to play. But today Lucas was with a woman who needed the play before anything else.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “I don’t know if I can handle skin to skin.” It was his nature to push. “Then we finish it this way.” But it wasn’t his nature to force. He could show her pleasure without feeling the silky softness of the tight, wet heat between her legs. Pressing hard against her, he started grinding in slow circles.

She screamed out scant moments after he’d begun, her neck muscles standing out in sharp relief. He felt the pleasure ripple through her and it was enough to have him fighting his own release. Barely capable of rational thought, he slipped one hand under her nape to hold her in place for his kiss… and froze.

Her eyes were no longer night-sky. Sparks of color fountained where the white stars usually resided, spectacular fireworks on the most miniature of scales. Neither man nor panther had ever seen anything more beautiful.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Lucas woke up feeling supremely sated. He wondered what his efficient Psy would say if he told her she’d brought him to orgasm twice now. He grinned. She’d probably ask him the technical details and note them down on that slim computer she carried everywhere. Why did he find that image cute as hell?

Whistling as he exited the shower, he headed into the bedroom and glanced up at the wall calendar.

Suddenly there was no more music in his soul.

How could he have forgotten?

Never before in two decades had he failed to remember—never before had anything or anyone distracted him badly enough to wipe this day from his mind.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, he drove to the office, glad to find that Sascha hadn’t yet arrived. He couldn’t deal with his puzzling reaction to her today. On this day he needed every one of his faculties to patch up a scar that refused to stop bleeding.

Leaving the sentinel in charge, Lucas got in his car to make the same trip he made once every year. His first stop was a florist.

He watched Callie go to fetch his standing yearly order and wondered at the difference between them.

The florist was near his age but she was so innocent that he felt a thousand years older. He knew it wasn’t because she was human and he was changeling. No, it had been blood and death that had aged him.

A minute later, she emerged, a huge wildflower bouquet in her arms. “Special order for someone special.”

He’d never shared who the flowers were for, the wounds too deep to subject to casual scrutiny.

The second he got in his car he felt cold, chilled, alone. It was always this way on this one shadowed Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

day, as if his childhood desolation resonated through time to torment him.

It took him over three hours to head out of the city and deep into the forests. Leaving the car on a hidden track, he traversed the remaining distance on foot. Nothing marked the spot where his mother and father had been buried, but he found their graves as if they’d been flashing welcoming beacons. He’d chosen a hidden grove surrounded by trees for their last resting place.

His mother’s scream.

His own helpless, tortured shouts.

His father’s cry of black despair as his mate’s life was stolen right in front of him.

Something in Carlo had broken at that instant, but he’d stubbornly held on to life until his son was safe.

Only then had he taken the step that would reunite him with his slaughtered mate. A black panther like her son, Shayla had been the reason for Carlo’s heartbeat.

They’d been put to rest in each other’s arms. In his heart, he hoped that that meant they’d found each other again.

The tree branches whispered in the wind as he spoke and he liked to think it a sign that his parents were listening. They were the only ones. None of his sentinels ever followed him here. No one asked him where he was going. No one asked him where he’d been.

He stayed for hours, speaking to two extraordinary people who’d been deprived of their love and their lives in the most brutal fashion but hadn’t broken. Carlo and Shayla had fought to the end like the courageous changelings they’d been. They’d fought not for themselves but for the life of their son. For him.

That bloody day and the ones that followed had shaped him, scarred him, and strengthened him. No one hurt the people Lucas cared about. No one took those who were his. He’d proven that he’d kill anybody who tried. Anybody .

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha had been feeling odd since the moment she’d woken. Worried that the changelings would pick up on the strange sadness weighing her down, she’d canceled her meetings with DarkRiver and occupied herself at Duncan headquarters, trying to keep under the radar so that Enrique wouldn’t track her down.

It was a relief to come home and shut out the probing eyes of the other Psy. The heavy darkness in her had increased through the day until it was a sharp pain in her heart. Not sure if it was an effect of her rapidly deteriorating mental state or something physical, she considered going to Medical.

A second later, she ruled that out. She didn’t know what the M-Psy saw when they looked inside a body. What if her mental patterns were so aberrant that they showed up and the medics demanded further tests? Sleep seemed the best option. If she wasn’t feeling better by tomorrow, she’d try to find some way of getting treatment without exposing herself to deep scans.

Another wave of thudding pain rocked through her body. She winced and rubbed her temples. Her eyes went to the communication panel. Maybe Lucas would know a medical person who would be discreet.

Almost immediately, she shook her head. What was she thinking? Lucas clearly considered the Psy to be heartless automatons—why would he help her?

And why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Lucas met no one on his way home. Parking his vehicle in a distant spot, he ran the rest of the way on panther feet, feeling the pounding earth like an extra heartbeat. The climb up the tree to his lair was as easy as breathing.

What wasn’t easy was coming back from the animal. He wanted to retreat into the panther’s mind and wipe away the human’s pain. The temptation was dangerous, a lethal seduction that could turn him rogue, unable to remember his humanity but retaining enough human intelligence to do far more damage than a normal leopard. That was why rogues were hunted down—they were far too dangerous to be left to roam. Often it was their former packmates who became their targets, as if some broken part of them knew what they’d once been… and could never be again.

Driven by his instinctive need to keep his people safe from harm, he pushed past the enticing voice of decades-old despair and gave his body the command to change.

Ecstasy and agony.

Part pure pleasure and part ripping pain, the change took only seconds but seemed to last forever. He knew that from the outside it looked like his body was turning into a thousand particles of brilliant light and re-forming itself into another shape. It was quite beautiful.

But from the inside it felt as if his skin was being torn from him as a new form tried to emerge. Melting heat sizzled through every part of him from fingertips to toes. When he opened his eyes, he was human again, his beast caged behind the walls of his mind.

Naked, he padded to the shower and turned it to cold. The brutality of the sharp needles succeeded in removing the last vestiges of temptation from his mind. Usually, he had no trouble switching between the animal and human parts of his psyche but today wasn’t a good day.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Today, he could almost understand the Psy need to banish emotion. If he didn’t feel, he wouldn’t remember. If he didn’t feel, he wouldn’t mourn. And if he didn’t feel, he wouldn’t hurt with every beat of his very human heart.

CHAPTER 8

He was beginning to expect her in his dreams. When she touched his shoulder, he rolled away to look up at her. His intention had been to tell her that he had no heart to play with her tonight, but when he saw her, he stopped. Wearing what looked like old cotton pajamas, her hair in two simple braids, she appeared about sixteen.

That was when he realized that he was dressed in a pair of dark gray sweatpants identical to his favorite pair. “What’s the matter, kitten?”

A kind of confused vulnerability swirled in her eyes. “I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

Opening his own arms, he said, “Come here.”

After a small hesitation, she laid her head down on his chest and stretched her legs out along his side. “I feel so… heavy.” One fine-boned hand rested beside her head, palm-down on his skin.

Her hand stroked over his heartbeat. “Why are you sad?”

She didn’t try to tell him that he wasn’t God, that he couldn’t protect everyone. He knew that. But knowing and believing were two different things. What she did say succeeded in stopping his heart. “I wish you’d love me.”

She cuddled closer and he wrapped his arms tight. “Because I’m broken.” Her hand kept smoothing over his heart and he could feel a melting warmth invade his body. “And the Psy don’t allow broken creatures to live.”

No answer. Only that smoothing hand over his chest. With each stroke he felt more at peace. A different form of heaviness infiltrated his bones. It felt strangely as if he was going to sleep again. As darkness closed over him, her quiet statement circled his mind like an endless river.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Because I’m broken.

And the Psy don’t allow broken creatures to live.

Sascha was wafting for him when he arrived at the office the next day. Troubled by the disquieting intensity of the dream, he tried to draw her into conversation but hit a brick wall. It was as if she’d retreated deep within herself, so deep that she’d almost ceased to exist.

Frustrated by her intransigence, he fingered the sample. “This stuff is cheaper.”

Her hands tightened on her organizer before she got herself under control. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

Every instinct he had told him it was time to press hard. “Dreams keeping you awake?”

She was gone.

Ria, his administrative assistant, gave him the message. “Said she had to leave to take care of something but that she’d be back for the two o’clock with Zara.” Lucas took the message with an ill-hidden frown. “Thanks.” His tone said otherwise.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

What worried him was that rather than calculating how he could use her weakness to further his own goals, he was concerned for her. The unexpected development was enough to disturb both man and beast—how had one of the enemy gained a slice of his loyalty?

She didn’t turn up for the meeting until a minute before two. “Shall we go in?” were her first words to him. Her suit was black, her shirt white, and her tone as chilling as the most brittle of frost.

In spite of his concern at what she made him feel, he wanted to reach out and kiss her until she purred.

He’d seen beneath the shell and he was never going help her bury the woman he’d glimpsed. Sascha Duncan might be Psy, but he was a Hunter.

The second they walked into the meeting room, he knew there was going to be trouble. Dorian was standing with his back to the window, the lines around his mouth white with strain, his shoulders so taut that the muscles were almost vibrating.

Kit pulled at the cuffs of his brown cable-knit sweater and shoved a hand through his hair. “She got delayed.” His tone held a subtle appeal—he didn’t want to discuss Pack business with an outsider in the room.

Lucas spoke without looking away from the lethal fury that was Dorian. “Would you give us a moment, Sascha?”

The other man bared his teeth. “SnowDancer lost a female today.” Lucas felt rage arc through his bloodstream. “When?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The boy nodded. “I’ll get on it.” He ran from the room.

It was lucky for them that the healer had come into the city proper to take the cubs shopping. Her presence here was vital—Dorian was almost at breaking point. Until this moment, Lucas hadn’t known just how fragile the sentinel’s control was. He could almost see the rage clawing behind those surfer-blue eyes, ready to maim, torture, kill.

Suddenly Dorian’s head snapped up to focus on something behind Lucas. “She’s part of their damn hive mind! Get her to tell us where the SnowDancer is before it’s too fucking late!” His voice vibrated with anger but he wasn’t completely out of control. Yet.

Lucas didn’t have to turn to know that Sascha was in the doorway—he could smell her. “Leave, Sascha.” The panther wanted to grip her by the nape and haul her out of harm’s way.

Sascha took a step into the room and closed the door. “What’s he talking about?” There was steel in that icy tone, resolve in the way she walked around to stand less than a foot away. No fear clouded those night-sky eyes.

Lucas continued to keep himself between her and Dorian. “A serial killer has been preying on changeling women for several years.” The time for subterfuge was over—a life hung in the balance.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha’s expression didn’t change. “We don’t have serial killers in our population.”

He pushed her back with a single hand. “Don’t get too close. Right now, Dorian would settle for ripping out your throat in lieu of the murderer’s. His sister was one of the victims.” He made sure she saw truth in his expression.

After a short silence, she took a step back and allowed him to hold Dorian at bay. “How do you know it’s a Psy?” she repeated.

He thought he saw hurt shadow Sascha’s face but when she spoke, her voice was calm. “If this is a serial, why hasn’t it been reported? I haven’t heard a single thing about it on the Net or through the human-changeling media.”

Dorian turned to bang his palms flat against the window. The glass cracked. “Your Council killed the reports like they killed the investigations. Changelings and a couple of humans have tried to get the cases marked as the work of a serial, but they’ve been blocked over and over.” Lucas met Sascha’s intent gaze and decided to take a step that could be a mistake. They had no more time to go softly, softly. Either his instincts about Sascha were right or he’d never had a chance.

The sentinel didn’t speak, his head bowed, palms pressed against the glass. Lucas knew that rather than striking out, he was withdrawing into himself and that couldn’t be allowed. He was Pack. He would never be left to suffer on his own.

He put one hand on Dorian’s shoulder. It was enough to hold him to the bonds of Pack until Tamsyn arrived. “SnowDancer lost a female two hours ago. If we don’t find her within seven days, she’ll be discovered mutilated in a way that would make even a Psy throw up.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

There was a flurry at the door and Tamsyn ran into the room alongside Kit and his older sister, Rina, a curvaceous, sensual female with the rank of soldier. Lucas turned to Sascha. “Wait for me outside.” This was Pack business. And no matter how much he craved her, she was an outsider. In spite of the chance he’d taken in telling her the truth, she might even be the enemy.

She looked at Dorian for a long time then silently turned and walked away. Rina closed the door behind her, shutting her out.

Sascha went down to the public lounge at the bottom floor of the building, Dorian’s anguish continuing to pound at her. She’d never felt such excruciating agony. It took everything she had not to scream in unison with him. It was almost as if the pain was drawn to her, as if she were sucking it inside, where it could mingle with her own unbearable hurt.

… you give off only coldness, a metallic stink that repels …

She couldn’t forget either Lucas’s words or the hatred she’d felt directed at her. Dorian, Kit, that beautiful blonde female, and even Tamsyn. They’d all looked at her as if she were the embodiment of evil. Perhaps she was. If they were right, she belonged to a race which would allow murder in order to protect their code of Silence.

A stab of pain slashed across her heart. She gasped and tried to stifle it but it only grew worse. She had to stop it, had to find some way of helping Dorian before he killed her. Locating the leopard was easy.

He pulsated with anger and rage, the air around him pure darkness churning with endless echoes of pain.

Psychically, she didn’t know what she was doing. No one had ever trained her in this. She didn’t even know what it was that she was trying to do. Reaching into the darkness enclosing him, she gathered up his pain into her arms. There was so much of it that it overflowed. Determined, she kept gathering until the shadows around him softened and the agony in her heart became easier to endure.

Her arms were full of sorrow and she could think of only one way to destroy it, an instinctive understanding that came from a buried part of her mind. But she couldn’t do it here. Barely able to see, she walked out of the building, still holding her incomprehensible harvest.

Getting into her vehicle, she programmed in the destination and set the car to automatic. The sorrow was getting heavier and heavier. She had to get to the safety of her apartment before her mind cracked wide open under the pressure. Already her flaw was obvious in the tremble in her fingertips, in the hollow beat of her heart.

With most of her remaining energy, she reinforced her mental shields against the PsyNet. The energy that kept her alive was tied into those shields. If they failed, it would be because she’d died and there was nothing left to sustain them. She only hoped she made it inside the walls of her apartment before the darkness became too much, before it destroyed her from the inside out.

Lucas felt the pain being drawn away out of Dorian. From his position cradling the other man’s body against his chest, he said, “Tamsyn, what did you do?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The healer ran her hands over Dorian’s face. “I’ve barely started. This wasn’t me. Dorian, what did you feel?”

Rina linked her fingers to Dorian’s. “You feel…” Lost for words, the soldier turned to Tamsyn.

Dorian frowned and pushed back his hair. “It was the damnedest thing. If felt like warmth spreading inside me, shoving out the rage. I can think again. For the first time since Kylie was taken, I can think.” He let Rina wrap her arms around him and lay her head against his chest.

Dorian ran his hand over Rina’s bare arm and Lucas knew he was grounding himself in the feel of her skin, in the way she smelled of Pack. This had nothing to do with male-female sharing and everything to do with Pack healing.

Dorian looked at Lucas. “It doesn’t matter. Not now. We have to find the SnowDancer female before the wolves go berserk. At this point they’re in shock but that’s going to turn into rage.”

Sascha was gone. According to the ground-floor receptionist, she hadn’t looked so good.

Rina, who’d come down with him, said, “Think she’s gone back to report to the Council?” It was a valid suspicion but something in Lucas rebelled against accepting it. Pulling out his phone, he pressed her code and waited. No answer. “I guess we’ll know soon enough. Tell the sentinels to alert the pack.” If the Council discovered that DarkRiver was working to bring them down, they’d launch a preemptive strike.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The Psy might not be able to manipulate the minds of changelings without a huge expenditure of power, but they could kill if they were determined enough. The most vulnerable were the cubs, who hadn’t yet finished developing the natural shields which made older changelings that much harder to hurt.

He watched Rina take off as he pushed in another code. Within ten minutes, every member of DarkRiver would be contacted. The weaker ones would head to the safe houses, where Pack soldiers could protect them. The one advantage changelings had was that the Psy had to come very close to attack them through psychic means. No Psy had ever killed a changeling from afar.

But today, someone had reached Dorian from afar.

CHAPTER 9

The call was answered. “Hawke.”

A pause that hummed with anger. “I won’t be able to control my people once the body is found.”

A short silence. The SnowDancers didn’t play well with others but Lucas hoped that Hawke would listen to the voice of reason, that he’d trust in the strength of their alliance. The alternative was carnage on a scale the world hadn’t seen in centuries.

betray him. “You know I’m right. Once the Psy realize we’re hunting them, she will die. They’ll do Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

anything to cover their trail.”

Hawke spit out a curse. “You’d better be right, cat. Seven days . Find my female alive and you’ll never have to worry about territorial threats again. If her body turns up, we go for blood.”

Sascha woke to the chime of the communication console. She was collapsed in the entry of her apartment, slumped against the closed door with her legs spread out in front of her. She had no memory of anything after exiting the elevator that had brought her to this floor.

Forcing herself to her feet, she clutched the door and walls for support as she somehow made her way to the console. Nikita’s name flashed up. Too exhausted to do anything but stand there, she let her mother leave a message and then glanced at her watch.

It was ten at night. That meant she’d lost in excess of seven hours to unconsciousness. Frantic, she checked her shields. They’d held. Her relief made her aware of something else—the pain of the grief and rage that had been crushing her was gone. She couldn’t remember how she’d defused it and she didn’t want to think about it either. Didn’t want to think about anything.

A long shower took her mind off matters for a few minutes. She followed that by sitting still and trying to meditate herself into a trancelike state, unwilling to face up to what she’d learned that day. It had been one straw too many. Her brain was in danger of overloading. She did mental callisthenic after mental callisthenic.

By the time she made herself return Nikita’s call, she’d achieved a measure of outward calm. Her mother’s face flashed up on the screen. “Sascha. You got my message.”

Nikita paused and then nodded as if she’d decided something. “Come up to my suite.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sascha found herself standing beside her mother, looking out at the glimmering darkness of a city going to sleep. “What does it remind you of?” Nikita asked.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she’d constructed the entire episode in an attempt to explain the fragmentation of her psyche. There was no other viable explanation. What she’d imagined doing was like no psychic power she’d ever heard of.

She forced herself to pay attention. “So are you. You’re both Council.” Just like Enrique, Nikita was dangerous, the poison of her mind as lethal as the deadliest biological virus.

Sascha read between the lines. If Enrique didn’t get what he wanted, Nikita’s life might well be forfeit.

We have months.”

But she didn’t. As today had demonstrated far too clearly, she was coming apart at the seams, breaking into a thousand pieces. She no longer understood her own actions. Right at that instant, she was standing there lying to her mother through her teeth, keeping everything she’d learned to herself. Why?

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha couldn’t sleep. She’d tried every trick she could think of to put herself under and failed. After the lush dreams of the past few days, it was a rude awakening to reality. Ever since she’d met Lucas, the physical symptoms of her accelerating mental disintegration had leveled off. She’d become used to a good night’s sleep, free of night terrors or muscle spasms.

She finally gave up and began to pace up and down the confines of her room, back wall to front wall, front wall to back wall, side to side, left to right. And back again.

A serial killer… changeling women… metallic stink… the Council… psychopath…

In the hours since she’d spoken to Nikita, she’d used every electronic means at her disposal to secretly surf the human-changeling Internet. The murders had been reported. However, instead of being front-page items in major newspapers and magazines, they’d only gotten serious attention on fringe sites nobody really took seriously. That didn’t change the fact that the killings had occurred and been noticed.

Before mysteriously disappearing.

The killer is Psy and your Council knows it.

Dorian’s angry words reverberated in her head.

Except that she was a living, breathing rebuttal to that statement.

They are Council. They are above the law.

Her own words returned to haunt her. Was it possible… ? “No.” She stared at the blank wall in front of her, unwilling to believe so quickly that her mother was guilty of aiding and abetting a murderer.

Nikita might not feel maternal emotions but Sascha felt a child’s. Her mother was the sole constant presence in her life. She’d never met her father, her grandmother had been distant, and she had no cousins or siblings. Not that it would’ve meant much if she had had them. They would’ve been as cold as the woman who’d borne her.

She had to find out more information.

Decision made, she began to code in a call from the communication console. Then she cut it off.

Enrique’s too-focused interest in her had made her wary of being monitored. Picking up a black leather-synth jacket to throw over her jeans and black shirt, she headed out to her car.

It was only when she’d almost reached the DarkRiver building that she started thinking.

It was two in the morning. No one would be there.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Certainly not the man she wanted to talk to. Her hands clenched on the wheel as she parked the car in the deserted lot and dropped her head back against the seat. She’d come here acting on instinct, seeking Lucas.

Lucas.

Sitting there staring at the darkness, she kept thinking about the way his eyes had gone cold as he’d told her that the Psy had a “metallic stink.” Tears rose perilously close to the surface. Why had she indulged herself with those dreams? They were impossible, even if she didn’t have the threat of rehabilitation hanging over her head. And they had been a conscious indulgence.

She’d given herself those moments hidden deep in her subconscious to explore her needs, her hunger, and had been fully aware of what was happening. Aware of the way Lucas felt under her fingertips, his skin so hot, so alive. Aware of every sound he’d made, every flash of those amazing eyes. Aware of his every demand, his every need.

Lies. All of them. She’d made up his reactions as she’d made up everything else. It had been her fantasies that had driven those dreams. How pathetic was it that she’d imagined him holding her, imagined him caring . She slammed her palm against the manual steering wheel and opened the door. It slid smoothly back, allowing her to swing her legs out and take a breath of night air.

Getting out, she leaned against the part of the hood closest to the driver’s side door and stared up at the sky. Diamonds on velvet, that’s what it looked like. She knew the clarity wasn’t thanks to the Psy. It was humans and changelings, particularly changelings, who’d fought pollution, fought to keep their world beautiful.

She owed them a portion of her sanity.

Even when she was forced to lock herself into the cage of the Psy world, the shimmering night sky gave her beauty that no one could take from her. No one could damn her for staring up at the sky.

Something moved to her left.

Sascha spun around but all was silent darkness, the hedge lining the side of the parking lot blocking her line of sight. Heart thudding so hard she could feel every vibration, she sent out a cautious psychic probe.

And brushed up against something so hot and alive that she felt burned.

She withdrew immediately. A few seconds later, a hand touched her shoulder. If she hadn’t felt his emotional shadow before he’d reached her, she would’ve jumped sky high and blown her cover to smithereens.

When she turned, it was to find herself face-to-face with the very male she’d been searching for.

Not much but it was clothing. A pair of low-slung jeans and a faded white T-shirt that defined every muscle on his impressive upper body. Her hormones flickered awake, her body aroused in spite of the terrible matters that lay heavy on her mind.

He chuckled. “I always have clothes accessible in places where I might often change.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

A slow smile spread over that savagely beautiful face. “I’d like to see that.”

It took every ounce of her concentration not to betray her reaction to his disturbing nearness. “That should make it easier for us to continue working together.”

She was intelligent enough to know that he was sexually flirting with her. She’d watched him with Tamsyn, with Zara. He didn’t touch either of those women the way he touched her. But what was his agenda? Did he suspect she wasn’t what she seemed, or was he merely amusing himself at her expense?

He was far too close for comfort but she couldn’t move way. “What’re you doing in my territory, Sascha?”

The words threatened to get stuck in her throat. “I wanted to talk to you about what you told me this afternoon.”

He ran a hand through his hair and her eyes followed the graceful movement. Something told her that he’d be just as graceful while stalking and taking down prey. “You picked an odd time for it.” She could hardly say that she’d been driven by emotions run amuck. “I wasn’t actually expecting anyone to be here, but decided to come on the off chance that someone was.”

thing. “Why come here?”

She nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Where?”

He held out his hand. “Keys.”

He directed her across the Bay Bridge and through Oakland. They hit the trailing edges of the wilderness that pressed against Stockton and kept going. The trees grew ever more dense, telling her that she’d entered some part of the massive Yosemite forests. Even with the considerable speed of her car, she’d been driving almost two hours when he told her to stop.

Having no other choice, she followed. “We’re going to talk here? We might as well sit in the car.”

His speed was frightening. He’d moved around the back of the car and to her in the space of a sentence.

That hand slid up until it lay against the curve of her waist. “Stop.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He moved away at once. “You sound just like a Psy.”

Looking into Sascha’s night-sky eyes, eerie in the darkness, Lucas found himself saying, “More. I expect you to be more.” Before she could respond, he began walking. “Follow me.” Already, he was debating the wisdom of his decision in bringing her to his lair. It was a stupid thing to do by any standard. Yet, he hadn’t been able to stop himself, driven by instincts far older than human thought. The panther wanted her in its territory.

When he’d found her in the lot, where he’d been drawn by impulses he barely understood, he’d thought that he was starting to see the real Sascha at last. Except that if he were to believe the way she was acting, the real Sascha existed nowhere but in his mind.

Had he been wrong about her right from the outset?

He took her through the hidden pathway that exited beneath his lair—most people never watched for danger from above. “How high can you jump?”

She glanced up. “An aerie.”

After a minute’s silence, he felt two tentative hands on his shoulders and almost laughed in relief. Her actions spoke far louder than her frosty tones—his poor kitten was scared and dealing with it the only way she knew how.

He’d been around her race a lot more than she knew, though, for the most part, they’d been low-level Psy the Council would never bother with. Still, they’d all had one thing in common—a complete and utter lack of reaction to most stimuli.

In contrast, he’d caught Sascha looking up at the night sky as if it held a thousand dreams. He’d watched her playing with cubs with what most would term affection. And he’d felt her touch him as if he disturbed her on the most intimate of levels.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

His instincts were going crazy. His personal Psy was definitely disconcerted by his body. Good. He smiled where she couldn’t see it. “I have food up there and I, for one, am starving. I ran to you, remember?”

He bit back a purr. His body was responding as if it knew hers, as if those dreams had been utterly real.

He touched the backs of her thighs with his fingertips. “Jump.” She moved like they were one, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lunged to begin the climb, his claws slicing out to grip the smooth surface.

Her legs tensed as he climbed higher, the heated core of her body cradled against the small of his back.

It made him remember what they’d done in that last erotic dream. Smiling, he took a deep breath as he gripped the final branch. Lord have mercy !

Desire filled his nostrils, unleashing the beast that lived within. The panther batted at the scent, rolled it in his mouth, hungered for more of it. He might not be able to read minds but he could read bodies and Sascha’s was screaming for his.

CHAPTER 10

He was fully erect by the time he landed on the leaf-strewn porch of his home. It was just as well that he hadn’t tucked in the T-shirt. Sascha was hardly likely to be comforted by the sight of him primed and ready. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with it himself. Perhaps she was unlike any other Psy he’d ever met but she was still Psy.

Still the enemy.

He’d promised his people that he’d allow no more of their women to be stolen, had taken an oath to see this through to the end, no matter what he had to do. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it, darling?” He retracted his claws as Sascha slid off.

Her body pulled away from his as if she’d been burned. In spite of what he’d just reminded himself, he had to fight the urge to preen. This woman wanted him. Whether she knew it or not. “Come inside.” Without turning to look at her, he opened the door and walked in.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha was having trouble breathing. She continued to feel Lucas against the sensitive inner faces of her thighs, her muscles quickening in remembered sensation. She bit back a whimper—her mental walls were crumbling. Insanity beckoned. Image after image of incarceration at the Center shot through her mind, nightmare memories from an event that should’ve never taken place.

The instant she walked into Lucas’s home, it shot through to inferno levels. She could see his silhouette behind a Japanese screen that looked to be separating the large room into living and sleeping areas. He was taking off his T-shirt and she couldn’t help but watch. Her fingernails bit into her palms.

She was almost certain that he was deliberately trying to torment her. “Where is the control?” Her statement was very precise, because she was having trouble thinking past single words, her eyes riveted to his shadowy form.

His setup was understandably old-fashioned. She guessed it was powered by hidden eco-friendly generators. No changeling would choose any other method this deep in the wilderness. Pushing the appropriate button, she called out, “It’s done.”

She heard him moving and a few seconds later, the sound of falling water, so the shower had to be located off the sleeping area. Relieved to have a few minutes to calm herself down, she placed her hands to her cheeks and took a deep breath. The scent of man and forest infiltrated her mind like the most forbidden of drugs. She remembered the sharp glint of his claws as he’d climbed, and felt not fear, but a kind of awestruck wonder.

The kitchen was small and compact, having a simple cooking/heating unit and very few other appliances.

She noted a coffeemaker on the counter and moved to switch it on. Coffee wasn’t something the Psy drank and though she’d tried it, it had never appealed to her. Since Lucas obviously liked it enough to have a high-tech machine, she started some before walking back to the living area.

It was wide and open, with several windows looking out into the forest. Given the fact that his lair had to be well protected, she guessed they were treated so as not to glimmer in the sun. Vines crawled along their surfaces, almost bringing the forest inside.

From the moistness in the air and the glimpse she’d had of a few water-loving plants she recognized, she guessed they were near a river, possibly close to one of the rare wetlands. Like most of his species, it appeared that the alpha of DarkRiver was adaptable to the extreme.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Looking away from the windows, she allowed herself to examine his living room. The light from the two motion-sensor lamps on the floor was soft, but then again, she thought, remembering those night-glow eyes, Lucas could see in the dark. The only other illumination came from a tiny red power light on the communication console set into the wall nearest the door. A closer look told her that it also functioned as a receiver for entertainment programs, though she had a feeling Lucas liked his entertainment far more physical… far more personal.

Flushing fever-hot, she moved away from the panel to look at the rest of the room. On the opposite side from the windows was a huge cushion, half of it propped against the wall, the other half on the floor, turning it into a de facto sofa. Lengthwise, it was more than enough for a leopard to stretch out on. Three smaller “sofas” were placed around the other walls.

A lot for one man but not for the alpha of DarkRiver. It was likely his packmates visited often. Only packmates? She shook her head. She wasn’t that naive. A man as sexual as Lucas would have more than his share of lovers. Lovers who were at home with their sexuality, open and wild enough to take him on. He had no need to seduce a Psy who’d never kissed a man in anything other than her dreams.

The shower shut off. Funnily enough, she was calmer. Throwing the cold water of reality over her fantasies had proven a far more effective counter to her hunger than any Psy trick. When she heard him moving into the sleeping area, she walked back to the kitchen. Another teasing shadow-play might undo everything.

The coffee wasn’t done. “What would you like to eat?” she asked without shouting, cognizant of his superb hearing. “I can start it.”

The thought of Lucas with another woman coated her with another icy layer of control. So much so that by the time the freshly washed scent of him invaded the air of the kitchen, she was back in the prison of her mind, back behind the walls she’d learned to put up before she could walk. “I’ll wait for you in the living room,” she told him, when she turned to find him facing her.

He let her pass with no trouble. “Thanks.”

Lucas watched Sascha walk away, his eyes narrowed. Something had changed. Her body was stiff and if she hadn’t been Psy, he’d have said she was angry. But her race were known to adopt stiff postures in their efforts to turn themselves into robots. The heating unit flicked off and he reached out to transfer the pizza onto a big plate.

Rina had brought too much. Even with two other soldiers there wolfing it down, they’d ended up with almost a whole pizza left over. The three had come over to talk to him about security for one of the safe houses but Rina had stayed behind to discuss Dorian. She was still young and seeing the sentinel almost lose it had shaken her.

Lucas picked up the plate and only then noticed that the coffee was ready. Sascha. She kept surprising him. Carrying the plate into the living room, he put it on a low table that sat in one corner of the room, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

before dragging the table to the cushion that Sascha had curled up against.

The cushions had been designed by Tara, a packmate. Meant to accommodate leopard bodies as well as human, there really was no way to sit stiffly in them.

Pleased by the liquid softness of her limbs, he smiled. “Grab a piece. I’ll get the coffee.”

As he poured the coffee, he thought back over that small hesitation. Had she been about to say that she didn’t like the taste of coffee? Or was he trying to convince himself of things that didn’t exist in order to justify this inappropriate attraction?

He was alpha, used to putting the pack above everything. This hunger for Sascha was a threat to that loyalty, a temptation that might lead to sleeping with the worst sort of enemy. But walking away wasn’t an option—he’d never been a quitter and he was determined to find out what lay beneath that hard Psy shell.

All their lives might depend upon it.

Sascha was sitting in the same position when he returned. Putting her water and his coffee beside the pizza, he took a slice and deliberately collapsed on the same sofa she’d chosen, letting his body lie loosely against the cushion a scant couple of inches from hers. “Give it a try.” He raised the slice to her mouth.

She hesitated and then took a small bite. “What flavor is this?” He shrugged. “Mexican, I think.” Taking a big bite, he watched her face as she analyzed the textures. Or was she savoring them? He raised it to her mouth again. “Bite.” Those eerie eyes seem to flash. “I’m not one of your pack to be given orders.” Temper, temper, he thought, the panther in him intrigued by that hint of fire. “Please.” After another small pause, she leaned forward and bit. This time she took more… and confirmed every one of his beliefs about her. Demolishing the rest of the piece, he picked up another one. She ate a good third.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Her body was alive. Her body felt. Her body knew sensation. The crucial question was, was her mind strong enough to overpower her animal instincts?

They sat quietly until Sascha put down her water and turned to him. “Tell me about the murders.” A chill cooled the heat of his body. Getting rid of his own empty mug, he dropped his head against the cushion back. “We’ve tracked down seven confirmed victims in the past three years. Kylie was number eight. And Brenna, the SnowDancer who was taken, will be the ninth if we don’t find her in time.”

He clenched his fists hard enough to hurt. “Yes.”

He sat upright, arms crossed over bent knees, one hand grasping the wrist of the other in a punishing grip. “The bastard takes them, tortures them, and then returns them to some place that should’ve been safe.”

Looking over, he met those night-sky eyes head-on. “He delivers the killing blows in a place familiar to the women. Kylie’s throat was slashed in her apartment.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Darkness crawled across Sascha’s eyes, destroying the stars and almost succeeding in shocking him out of his fury. He’d heard that Psy eyes did that when they were expending huge amounts of Psy power but he’d never seen it happen. It was like watching the wings of the night close out the sun. The strange thing was, the hairs on the back of his neck weren’t tingling in awareness. If Sascha wasn’t using her powers, why were her eyes going midnight?

Sascha wrapped her arms around her knees. The panther noticed the mirroring and filed it away. “Why didn’t the other changeling groups do anything?”

He needed touch. Contrary to what Sascha believed, not just any touch would do. Usually only packmates were able to give him the peace he craved. Usually. “We’re not weak,” he began, pulling off the tie that kept her braid together.

She blinked and her body tensed but all she said was, “No, you’re not.” Was she trying to be gentle with him? He looked into those infinite eyes and wished he could read her mind. “And we’re not going to stop searching because the Psy want us to. Brenna will be saved and the killer will be executed. If DarkRiver is taken down, the SnowDancers will continue the fight. When they fall… there are others.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The world was changing and sooner or later, the Psy were going to come face-to-face with their worst nightmare—the relegation of their emotionless race to nothing more than a footnote in the history of man.

Springy, silky curls began to overflow his hands as her braid started unraveling on its own. The panther was delighted by the texture and life in his hands. But it wasn’t enough to make him forget blood and death. “I was with Dorian when he got the feeling that something was wrong. We must’ve arrived at Kylie’s apartment on the killer’s heels.” What he’d seen there had been enough to make him believe in evil as a living, breathing entity. If Sascha wanted proof, he had it, seventy-nine precise pieces of it, all covered in blood and horror.

Those mysterious eyes looked at him with what he wanted to believe was sympathy. “That’s why Dorian is so damaged. He thinks if he’d only been that much faster…” No longer surprised at her understanding of the emotions that drove people, Lucas nodded. “When we got there, Kylie’s body was warm to the touch but she was gone and so was the killer. However, he’d left behind a scent, one that’s unmistakable to us.” He’d also left behind a faint psychic vibration in the air, something that Lucas alone had picked up. He knew the ability stemmed from the same sense that warned him when Psy power was being used. It wasn’t something he was ready to share with his Psy, though he was almost certain that she was far more akin to him than she was to the people she called her own—almost wasn’t good enough for an alpha.

He stopped playing with her curls. “He cut her. Precisely. Neatly. No mistakes. No hesitations. No cut deeper or shallower than the others. No cut shorter or longer. He cut her exactly seventy-nine times.”

Rage was powering him, making him push her in a way that he would’ve never pushed any other woman. He was used to protecting but Sascha’s calm evaluation of the violent deaths of eight women—women who’d mattered, who’d been loved—had turned him savage. “Oh, and the autopsies Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

showed that their minds were literally mush though their skulls hadn’t been damaged. Who can do that aside from the Psy, Sascha? Who?”

She made a quick rising movement. He was faster. He trapped her with his body around hers, his leg at her back and his arms around her torso. “Where are you going?”

He ran his thumb against the warm skin of her nape, anchoring himself in the softness of her. The beast understood why she was able to do that for him but the man wasn’t ready to face that truth. “The Psy are responsible.”

The panther growled but the man knew enough not to point out the slip and risk shocking her back inside her mask. “They’re the only body with the power to conceal something this bad. They have to know.”

He’d almost forgotten. “I’m sorry, Sascha. She has to know.” She shook her head, silky curls tumbling everywhere. “No. She’s powerful and ruthless, yes, but she’s not evil.”

CHAPTER 11

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Evil. An interesting word choice from a Psy. “Nikita likes power. If the Council goes down, so does that power.” He raised a hand and rubbed his knuckles along her cheek. “Think about it.”

Silence descended over them. Even the forest outside had stopped whispering. It felt as if the whole world was holding its breath. He continued to caress her nape, her cheek, her chin. Her skin was as tempting as warm silk.

Lucas didn’t like seeing her this way, hurt and bruised. Guilt squeezed his heart. It shouldn’t have torn him up that he’d done this to her. Everything he did was for Pack. It was part of the price of being alpha.

For the first time, he resented paying that price, resented having to hurt this woman.

He shifted an inch closer, deciding to let the panther’s sensuality out to play in order to make it up to her.

They’d discussed darkness and death, horror and evil. But that wasn’t all he was, all she was. If he wanted to pull her out of the Psy armor she wore like a second skin, he’d have to tempt her with the beautiful side of emotion, rather than burying her in ugliness. “Was Dorian right?” She finally turned her head to face him. “About what?”

appears messy and completely impractical.”

Letting go, he cupped her cheek with one hand and turned her face toward his. “How about it?”

She gave a slow nod. “Perhaps it’ll help me understand why changelings and humans place so much emphasis on marriage and bonding.”

He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. Bending his head, he ran his lips across hers in a quick, hot slide. Warm, soft, delicious, they invited him to return. When he did, he kept the kiss shallow—tugging at her lower lip, easing the hurt with his tongue, then suckling her upper lip. A soft, innately female moan silvered into the silence.

Heat seared him.

This was no block of concrete. He could feel the rise and fall of her breasts against his forearm, inviting his palm to go lower. For now, he satisfied himself with the pounding heartbeat he could feel in her neck, with the jagged breath she couldn’t hide. The Psy could shut off emotion, but it was far harder to shut off the body’s hunger for touch.

Sascha could see the edge of the cliff dropping away in front of her and she didn’t care. Never in her life had she felt this much sensation, this much pleasure. Her fantasies were nothing compared to the reality of Lucas. The lazy greed with which he was kissing her was the most dangerous of temptations. His movements were so languorous, so subtle, so sensually slow that she’d opened her mouth to him before she knew it. Shocked at how far she’d come, she pulled back.

He didn’t fight her withdrawal, watching her with those cat-green eyes tempered by arousal. “Enough experimenting, kitten?”

The endearment was straight out of her dreams. Terrified by her own reaction and by the realization she could see in his eyes, she said, “I’d like to return home.” She knew she hadn’t answered his question.

She also knew that she couldn’t say the words expected of a Psy without it being such a huge lie that she’d give herself away. The truth was, she hadn’t had enough. Not by a long shot.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Marking her.

Sascha was home by eighta.m . Exhausted, she took a shower and started preparing for the day ahead.

The first thing on the agenda was a meeting with her mother. Then she had to check on a couple of other family projects. After that she had to face Lucas again. Her face flushed as she tried to put her hair in order.

She couldn’t forget the feel of his hands in her hair, the pleasure he’d taken from touching her. Yet it hadn’t been the pleasure that had almost broken her. It had been the need she’d felt in him, the need for touch, for peace. It had captivated her that he’d found surcease in her, a Psy, one of the enemy.

Part of a race of killers.

Grim reality wiped away every trace of lingering pleasure. She couldn’t accept his accusation, couldn’t give up everything she believed in so easily. Perhaps she’d never fit in but the Psy were her people, all she had. Lucas had kissed her but he was a changeling and when push came to shove, he’d always choose his pack over her.

Wait for me outside.

The image of Lucas ordering her to leave, when Dorian had fragmented, merged with thoughts of him in bed with a woman called Rina. He’d never treated her as anything but an outsider, she thought, deliberately forgetting that visit to Tamsyn’s home because it didn’t fit, and she needed something to go right, something to make sense.

She needed to belong.

The second she turned against the Psy, she’d be saying good-bye not only to her life, but also to any hope she had of ever fitting in anywhere. Even if she somehow survived the anger of the Council, who’d take in a rogue Psy? Not DarkRiver. She could still remember the hatred she’d glimpsed in Dorian’s eyes as he’d accused her of being from a race of psychopaths.

Lucas had stood by Dorian while pushing her out—she’d been left on her own, once again an outsider.

The leopards had come together for their packmate, but who’d come together for her when she’d found herself unconscious on the floor of her apartment? No one.

Because she was nothing but a tool.

Lucas had never hidden his nature. She’d known from the start that he’d utilize every advantage he had to get his way… even if it involved something as distasteful as kissing one of the stinking, metallic Psy. He was using her to gather information and the second she delivered, he’d be done with her.

Sharp pains stabbed her stomach but she stood her ground and forced herself to face the truth. As she’d always feared, the changelings had picked up on her flawed nature and were exploiting it to get what they wanted.

Lucas was exploiting it. Exploiting her.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

It was time she stopped letting him blind her with emotion and the dangling threads of false hope and started thinking like a Psy. Maybe it wasn’t too late to salvage her position, at least within the family. The first thing she had to do to ensure that was to tell Nikita everything she’d learned—she might never be a perfect cardinal, but she could be a perfect daughter. This was her chance to make a place for herself as something other than a mistake.

Humiliation and hurt combined to make a dangerous mixture. She wanted to make Lucas pay, wanted to wound him as he’d wounded her, shatter his dreams as he’d shattered hers. He’d taught her so much about his people. He shouldn’t have. In the end, she was Psy.

And he was the enemy.

CHAPTER 12

Lucas knew something was wrong the instant Sascha walked onto the building site where he and his team were taking some initial measurements. They had to make sure everything looked normal on the surface—there was no need to tip off the Psy unnecessarily. To foster that impression, he was out here when he’d rather be hunting murderous human prey.

He watched Sascha park her car some distance from the others and walk to the eastern edge of the site, far from where they were working. Getting up from a crouch, he handed over his notepad to the woman next to him. “Hold the fort, Zara.”

Smiling despite the fact that his gut was tight in anticipation of trouble, he headed after Sascha. It was a shock to come face-to-face with her only to realize that no trace remained of the woman who’d let him kiss her. Every nerve in him went stiff in rejection. Not of her. Of the mask she’d donned once again. She was hiding herself and that was unacceptable to both sides of his nature. He wanted nothing more than to force her to remove it… although he didn’t understand why it made him so wildly furious.

The panther’s hackles rose. “What have you done?” he asked point-blank.

Her lips compressed to a fine white line. “I went to tell my mother everything.” The flames of betrayal spread like acid in his blood. “You bitch.” He let go of her arm, disgusted.

I’m Psy. My loyalty is theirs but I couldn’t speak.” Relief kicked him so hard it was almost pain. “What have they done to earn your loyalty?” Mixed in with the relief was anger. Anger that she should’ve even considered betraying him.

Before he could respond, Zara called out his name. Giving her a wave, he said, “Who said the Psy can’t be anything else?”

Sascha didn’t speak again until Lucas was on the other side of the site. “Nature.” The ragged whisper revealed the best-kept secret of their race. Like the rest of the Psy, she was dependent on the PsyNet for every breath she took. Cut off from it for much longer than a minute or two, she’d die a miserable death. And if her flaw were discovered, she’d be sentenced to living death through rehabilitation. Her only hope of survival was to become more Psy than the Psy, to become… unbreakable.

This morning she’d gone to Nikita with the full intention of giving her everything she had. Filled with confusion and a kind of blind anger at a fate that had shown her glory and then told her she couldn’t have it, she’d convinced herself that if she betrayed DarkRiver, she’d redeem herself in Nikita’s eyes, at last be the daughter her mother had always wanted.

Yet when she’d opened her mouth to speak, all that had come out had been a string of lies. Every single one of them had been told to protect the changelings, to protect Lucas. They’d come from a hidden part of her she’d never before seen, a bright, hard knot of fierce loyalty and utter determination. That part wouldn’t let her do anything to hurt the panther who’d kissed her and smashed the glass walls of her existence into a million slivers.

It was then she’d realized that, for the first time in her life, she wanted something else even more than she Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

wanted to belong. If only for a moment, if only for a second, she wanted to be loved.

What a futile, impossible dream for a Psy.

She would never have it, but she could at least help this race which knew how to love. Perhaps that would be enough to feed the need in her soul. Perhaps.

Lucas allowed Sascha to keep her distance as they finished the measurements, but he had no intention of letting her withdraw. He’d never been very good at following orders.

He couldn’t.

She was his. The idea of watching her walk away was simply not tolerable. He might’ve been blinkered to the facts before now, but the fire of his rage at the thought of her selling him out had ripped the blinkers from his eyes. The truth had hit him like a slap. As much as Sascha might react to him, he definitely reacted to her —physically, mentally, and sexually.

What she didn’t know, because he’d been very careful not to let her agile mind figure it out, was that he didn’t touch easily outside Pack. He hadn’t been joking about skin privileges. Yes, he was more tactile than the Psy, but he didn’t get affectionately intimate with those who were not his. Yet from the first, he’d found himself playing with her as he might play with a woman who’d aroused his most primitive instincts.

Never had he treated her as the enemy deserved to be treated.

Part of him continued to resist the idea of what Sascha meant to him, really meant to him. That part had been tortured, broken, almost destroyed. It didn’t want to open itself up, didn’t want to permit a vulnerability that could lead to a harsher pain. Paradoxically, it was that same part which understood what this Psy was to him, and it was that same part which couldn’t let her go.

Only one thing was certain—he was keeping her.

She continued heading to her car, parked several meters from the others. “I’m fine.”

He stopped her by the simple expedient of putting his hand on hers.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She didn’t answer but he saw a spark light those eyes. That temper of hers was flickering again, bringing her back to life. What he’d give to see her in full fury. “Come with me to Tammy’s. She was asking about you.” The healer had taken an unusually strong interest in Sascha.

Leaning close, he whispered, “Don’t worry—the cubs are off visiting family.” In truth, they’d been spirited away to safety with the rest of DarkRiver’s young. Something was going to break soon and the worst-case scenario equaled massive bloodshed. But for this one moment he allowed himself to play, aware that he was standing with the lone woman who might be able to stop the carnage. “Your boots are safe.”

Grinning at the bold-faced lie, he tapped her cheek. “Zara’s already taken my car back to the office.

Keys?” He held out his hand.

She crossed her arms. “You have a short memory.”

Sascha waited until they were on their way to bring up the subject preying on her mind. “Have you learned more?”

Lucas didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. His sudden fury was so pure and taut that she felt like she could reach out and touch it. What amazed her was that there was no confusion in that anger.

Lucas could think through his feelings, displaying a strength of will beyond anything she knew. She was barely skirting the edges of emotion and already it felt like a yawning abyss at her feet, ready to suck her in and spit her back out battered, bruised, and possibly dead.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Clenching her hands on the wheel, she shook her head. “She’s a changeling. That immediately doubles the difficulty, and even for a cardinal, forcing open a mind is already one of the most difficult of tasks. If you don’t care about killing the victim, it can be done with a massive burst of power, but he wanted her alive.” So he could torture her.

Sascha took a deep breath and forced herself to continue. “Plus to do that and teleport her would’ve taken enough power to lay him up for days. I haven’t heard of any strong Psy in that condition. That sort of thing, a Psy flaming out, tends to create a buzz in the Net.” She tapped the wheel. “He could’ve just planned it carefully and had a vehicle nearby. A lot of human serial killers function that way.”

bothering to pretend to carry on an investigation.” The conceit of whoever it was who was controlling Enforcement stuck a spear into the bubble of hope Sascha had been carrying around that her people were innocent. “Were you able to identify the owner of the vehicle?”

Lucas’s scowl sounded in his voice. “Why do you need to know that?”

She shot him a glance. “I didn’t expect you to have that information at your fingertips.”

She took it with a feeling of inexplicable dread. The woman was laughing in the picture, her brown eyes brilliant with amusement, her head thrown back. Sunlight glinted off the pure blond strands of her straight hair and highlighted the curves of her body. She was short, perhaps five-four, but there was such life in her that she seemed to dwarf the two men in the photo with her.

Silence in the car.

once before. “He must be driven by the most poisonous rage.” She hadn’t felt any such emotion in that odd, fleeting moment when she’d seemingly been sucked into Brenna’s world, but what else could drive one being to so savage another?

She turned to look at Lucas, not frightened by his open blood-hunger. There was something clean about it, something real. “No one who feels the dark things he must is going to be able to hide it forever. He’s going to break sooner or later.”

Lucas’s eyes were hard green crystals. “For all our sakes it better be sooner. The clock is ticking.” Tamsyn was edgy. “I miss the cubs,” she said to Lucas the second he walked in.

Hugging her, he tried to lend her some of his strength. Sascha stood quiet beside him but he felt the stirring at the base of his nape. It was, he realized, an almost constant feeling around her, so constant that he’d hardly been noticing. Something about Sascha gave off a low-level indication of Psy power in continual use.

Exactly what the heck was his Psy up to? Despite her unsuccessful attempt at betrayal, he wasn’t immediately suspicious. The panther said that she was safe and the panther’s instincts had never been wrong. Tamsyn took a deep bream and let go of him after several minutes.

She nodded. “I made Nate go to work. Stupid.” With that, she turned to head to her domain—the kitchen.

Sascha waited until Tammy was out of earshot. “If having the cubs away from her makes her this anxious, why did she let them go in the first place?”

It was the right decision for an alpha but maybe it was also made because he was still fuming over the betrayal she’d contemplated. “What smells so good?” he asked, walking into the kitchen.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Tammy finished setting the places. “Chicken pot pie with strawberry tarts to follow.”

To his surprise, so did Tamsyn. She touched Sascha’s hand in fleeting reassurance. “Cooking relaxes me—maybe it’s part of being a healer. If you don’t help eat my efforts, Nate’s going to start accusing me of trying to fatten him up.”

Lucas pulled out a chair. Instead of taking it, Sascha went to the other side and pulled out her own.

Stubborn woman. “You eating with us, Tammy?”

As they began eating, the healer started talking. “I can’t stop thinking about that poor girl—Brenna.” She put down her fork. “He’s probably hurting her right now. And we’re sitting here doing nothing.” It was Sascha who said the right thing. “If you think so negatively you’ll make it a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Look past the anger and pain and think. Perhaps you’ll discover a way to help her.” Tamsyn looked at her for a long moment. “You’re more than you appear, aren’t you, Sascha?”

Neither of them mentioned Dorian. After his wild breakdown, he’d been acting almost spookily normal.

Everyone was afraid that he was going to snap when they least expected it.

Lucas appreciated their position as only someone who’d once been in that very place could. The years of waiting for his body to grow strong so he could claim vengeance had been torture of the most excruciating kind, slow and seemingly endless.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha took long moments to answer. “There is no love in the Psy world, so logic would prevail.” Her words were crisp but her eyes gave her away.

Somehow, he’d learned to read those night-sky eyes, learned to interpret the haunting sadness that flickered over them for barely a millisecond before she asked, “Tamsyn, may I use your home for a few hours this afternoon?”

Lucas pushed away his plate, excitement churning in his gut. Sascha was going to surf the PsyNet.

The panther in him growled, smug. The man wasn’t so easily appeased. “I’m not going to leave you unprotected.”

Moving his head, he kissed her on the lips, running his hand up her arm in a soothing gesture. It was a small thing but it helped her. She let go and sat in the chair beside him. Lucas glanced at Sascha to see how she’d handled the contact. Her face was expressionless, so much so that he knew she had to be hiding something pretty intense.

He bought his attention back to Rina. “What’s wrong?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

CHAPTER 13

Normally the three kids’ absence wouldn’t be a cause for concern. Juveniles were notoriously wild, but Lucas suspected that Kit’s sudden trip had to do with witnessing Dorian’s collapse. He hero-worshipped the latent sentinel. “I’ll track him down.” The SnowDancer lieutenants who controlled those areas were usually reasonable, but these weren’t ordinary times.

Notwithstanding the bleak situation, it made him want to smile. “I’ll catch up with you if I return before six. If not, leave a message with Tammy.”

Sascha stood in the guest bedroom trying to concentrate but all she could see was Lucas with Rina.

Sensuality had poured from every molecule of the female, rich and heady and almost tangible. She’d felt as if she were drowning in it as she’d sat across from the two of them.

Then they’d kissed and she’d had another shock. Affection had whispered between them. Not passion, not hunger, not desire. Her mind was having trouble with the thought that Lucas’s kiss hadn’t caused Rina to burst into sexual flame.

A knock on the door startled her into a soundless gasp. “Yes?” Tamsyn’s smile appeared in the doorway. “I brought you a cup of hot chocolate. If you need anything else, let me know.” She put the mug down on a bedside table. “I’ll leave you in peace.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha thought she hid her surprise well. “Yes.”

Tamsyn cocked her head to the side and gave Sascha a probing look. “Inside the pack, it’s special because it tells us he cares for us, that he’ll die for us.” Sascha nodded, feeling worse and worse.

Sascha’s cheeks flamed. Lucas wanted her in his bed. In spite of her vows to not let him reach her, she was aroused to fever pitch. Concentration went out the window. Dreams intertwined with reality and she remembered his kiss in the forest as she remembered his far more intimate kiss in her dreams.

It was the prosaic sound of an engine getting closer that brought back the world and reminded her what she was meant to be doing. Taking a deep breath, she sat down cross-legged on the floor and started to recite a mental exercise so demanding, it succeeded in driving everything else from her mind. Ready, she took the first step out into the Net.

The world opened.

In front of her was an endless starry sky. Each star was a mind, some strong, some weak. Her star was at the center of this universe because she was the entry point. The PsyNet was spread across the world but if she wanted find a particular mind, all she had to do was think of it and it would appear in her field of vision, something like a link on the human-changeling Internet. However, similarly to a link, she had to have a starting point—knowledge of what the mind felt like, looked like.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

There was her mother’s blazing star—a cool, pure brilliance. Over there were some of the Psy who worked in the Duncan empire. But she didn’t want to speak to anyone today. What she was interested in were the dark spaces between minds, the spaces where information floated, controlled into order by the NetMind.

She allowed her consciousness to flow out, letting data filter through her as if she were doing nothing more than catching up on the news. The NetMind brushed past her and kept going, not alive, not dead, but sentient in a way the world had never known. Still young, it was the librarian of this vast archive.

It would’ve been easy to become sidetracked by the endless streams of data, but despite her free-floating appearance, she was being very choosy, her senses tuned to a fine point. This was about murder… and the greatest lie that had ever been perpetuated by a race upon its own kind.

* * *

Lucas returned a few minutes after five to find Sascha and Tamsyn standing in the yard. “The juveniles?” the healer asked the second he got within earshot.

Sascha looked up, face drawn. “Are they all right?”

Lucas saw Sascha frown as she realized that something was going on beneath the surface. It had been inevitable. She was too smart to miss much. “They were stopped by a SnowDancer patrol and told to haul ass back home.”

He shook his head. “They treated the kids as if they were wolf pups.” That was very unusual. When they’d first decided on a truce, Hawke had put out the word that the leopards were allies, but letting them pass without trouble and doing what the soldiers had done was something entirely different. Lucas had been alpha too long not to understand the implied message, but it was an offer he couldn’t accept without considerable thought. “They’ll be home by nightfall.” Tammy smiled. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

He waited for Sascha to ask what was going on but she shook her head. “Don’t trust me.” She rubbed at her eyes. “My mind is vulnerable as long as I’m uplinked to the Net.” He had far more faith in her skills than she had in herself, he thought. “What did you find?” They’d discuss her connection to the PsyNet another time.

He moved close enough to caress her cheek with his knuckles. “It exhausted you.” She didn’t pull away and when his hand dropped from her face to entangle with one of her hands, she Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

curled her fingers around his. He had to stifle the panther’s satisfied growl.

Ebony-dark eyes looked up at him before glancing away. “I felt the shadows of violence,” she whispered. “Like someone had left behind a mental print in certain places.”

She nodded. “I’m going to try a few other things tonight.” He smelled fear in the air. “Will it be dangerous?”

Some time later, Lucas sat in the huge kitchen of their largest safe house, talking to Tamsyn and two of the most dangerous males in his pack. Dorian had fought his inexplicable handicap by skilling himself in human martial arts to such an extent that he could take down a fully grown leopard with his bare hands.

Nate was perhaps even more lethal—he had cubs to protect. “How many here?” Lucas asked.

He turned to Dorian. “Is everyone accounted for?”

Lucas didn’t say anything about Dorian going into SnowDancer territory on his own. “Then we have a few days’ grace. Let’s get our people to safety and hope Sascha can find us the clue we need.” His worry for her vied with his need to protect his pack. But he knew the choice wasn’t his—she wasn’t a woman who’d ever take orders from him.

The sentinel stared at him and then put his hand on the table, palm up. “Then I’m with you. For Pack.” Tamsyn wrapped her arms around her mate’s neck, her eyes shining with agreement.

Dorian placed his hand on Nate’s, in the same position. “For Pack.” Lucas put his over theirs, palm down. As their hands closed over his, his closed over theirs. “For Pack.” Sascha’s fingers were trembling. She slipped her left hand unobtrusively into her pocket and met Enrique’s gaze across the desk that separated them. He’d been waiting for her. Stalking her. The computers had informed her that her presence was required in Nikita’s office the second she’d walked into the Duncan building.

Terrified that someone had picked up on the true purpose of her Net search, she’d entered to find Enrique sitting in her mother’s chair, with Nikita standing beside him. It was a testament to the strength of her shields that not an ounce of her fear had leaked through. However, the trembling in her fingers was refusing to abate.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Enrique leaned forward. “Anything is useful.”

She looked at Nikita. “Of course, sir. Mother.” As she headed out, her eye fell on her foot and she saw that in her confusion this morning, she’d put on the boot Julian had chewed. Fear clawed at her.

Turning, she tugged at the lapel of her jacket in an effort to hide the subtle trembling of her right hand.

Suddenly, Sascha wondered how much of what her mother had told her earlier was true. Was Enrique really an ally who had to be kept pacified, or were the two of them in league for a far darker purpose?

This time they let her leave without interruption. The second she was outside the office, she slid her other hand into a pants pocket too. She wanted to head for her apartment but knew she couldn’t—Enrique was unlikely to change his mind about seeking her out later. And if he saw her like this, she was as good as dead.

Her hands were trembling uncontrollably and she could no longer ignore the muscle spasms in her legs.

Something had gone very wrong in the time since she’d spoken to Lucas. Barely able to think through the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

panic riding her, she got on the elevator and somehow found her way to her car without running into anyone. Her vision was beginning to blur by that stage and she could feel her heartbeat stopping and starting in a ragged rhythm that scared her.

She almost stumbled as she tried to open the door to her car. It felt as if her body was shutting down, system by necessary system. Fear bloomed a metallic taste in her throat. Then, in a bizarre twist, the urge to laugh almost overwhelmed her. Bare seconds after she closed the door behind her and pushed the button to tint the windows, sadness crashed into her.

Crying uncontrollably, she knew she was on the verge of a major breakdown. The tears were gone as fast as they’d come and her body was suddenly melting in the throes of sensual pleasure. Then bang! She was hit with a load of guilt, of haunting loss. It gripped her throat and she thought she’d choke. A second later, it passed.

Nothing took its place.

Sascha forced herself to think in that fleeting moment of clarity. First, she reinforced her psychic shields.

They’d stay up until she died, hiding her from the PsyNet. From her own people. Sorrow mixed with fear and the combination sparked a connection between the splintered neurons of her brain.

Leaning forward, she programmed a destination into the computer, a destination where no Psy would ever go. Then she left a message for her mother explaining her absence. She couldn’t chance anyone instigating a search for her. Who knew what condition they’d find her in?

As she steered the car out of the garage, her vision narrowed to a mere pinprick in each eye. She was almost numb with terror but she managed to get the vehicle out onto the streets, where the automatic navigation systems could take over. The moment they did, she hugged her arms around herself and curled up on the seat.

Laughter bubbled out of her but she wasn’t happy. Neither was she sad. She was both and she was more. She was angry. Insane. Satisfied. Hungry. Hurt. Glad. Amused. Aroused. Her entire body started to shake, her heartbeat a jackhammer against her ribs.

Her body arched as she screamed within the insulated confines of the car. Her screams were still reverberating in the vehicle when she lost consciousness, the car skimming smoothly along the streets.

The safe house was tense. Only the cubs were sleeping. All the maternal females were hyperaware, the soldiers and sentinels pumped with adrenaline. Lucas hadn’t heard from Sascha since she’d left that afternoon and he was worried. His beast was prowling the corners of his mind, urging him to track her down. Something had to have gone wrong in her second attempt to surf the PsyNet.

He was standing outside the back door considering how to reach Sascha without tipping anyone off, when a huge white wolf prowled out from the woods behind the isolated property. Beside him, Rina’s entire body went tight. “Friend or foe?” she whispered.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He met the wolf’s icy blue gaze. “Go inside.”

Rina went but he felt both her frustration and her fear for him. After making sure she was safe, he trailed the wolf into the woods. It streaked off ahead of him and he let it go, following more slowly until the house was hidden from view. A few seconds later, a man dressed in a pair of faded jeans walked back toward him.

Hawke was muscular and he was lethal. A predator to the core. His eyes were the same icy blue whether he was in wolf or human form, his hair a thick silver-gold that had nothing to do with age. It echoed his pelt. Of all the changelings Lucas knew, it was Hawke who resembled his beast the most in humanity.

Hawke didn’t need to know that Sascha had been the possible leak Lucas had warned him about. “The one who might get us into the PsyNet.” His beast was shoving at the walls of his mind, desperate to get to her.

Hawke’s eyes watched Lucas without blinking. “If I find out you’ve lied to me, cat, all bets are off.” Lucas allowed a growl to roll up from his throat. “Don’t threaten me on my own lands, wolf.” He knew Hawke was dangerous but so was he and the other alpha couldn’t be allowed to forget that. “Where is she?”

Even from this far away Lucas could smell her. “You left her alone?”

Lucas saw Sascha’s slumped form on the seat and felt fury arc through him. “What did you do to her?” Reaching inside, he lifted her in his arms. Her body was limp but she was breathing. Relief almost broke him and it was then that the last pieces of understanding shoved through to his conscious mind. Of course Sascha smelled of him—she was his .

Lucas stepped back with Sascha in his arms, admitting to himself that his loyalty now belonged to her.

Hawke went still. “Mated to a Psy, panther?”

Lucas had only now realized the truth—he wasn’t about to share it with a wolf. “Don’t move against the Psy without talking to us.”

Hawke stared at him for a long, icy moment. “Don’t let me down. Brenna’s been gone over thirty-six hours already. The single reason I’m letting you run this is because you have a head start. If DarkRiver fails, we take over.”

The second he walked into the house with Sascha in his arms, things went to hell in a handbasket. Rina hissed and her claws popped out. Nate moved protectively to cover Tamsyn, who clearly didn’t want to be protected. Even a recently returned Kit jumped to his feet.

Strangely enough, it was Dorian who came forward.

His loyalty had always been to Pack. Only ever to Pack. Until now.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

CHAPTER 14

Since the beds in the house were taken, it was decided to leave Sascha on the table where Tamsyn and the sentinels could keep an eye on her throughout the night. They found some blankets and placed them under her, along with a pillow for her head. Lucas covered her with a soft throw after removing her boots.

Even after all this time, he couldn’t remember his mother’s laughter without remembering her screams.

Young and weak, he’d watched her fall in a fury of claws and teeth, watched the brilliant light of her life splutter out. Vengeance had cooled the blazing anger inside him but Lucas knew the scars were for always, markers to the lost lives of his healer mother and sentinel father. Those scars had hardened him, but today he’d discovered that they couldn’t protect against everything.

Sascha had somehow become firmly lodged inside him, a vibrant presence in the heart of hearts where only a mate could go. Now her light, too, was flickering in a storm he couldn’t block, danger he couldn’t Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

even see. His helplessness devastated him. He was furious at fate for giving him a mate he couldn’t keep safe. Perhaps that was why he’d been willfully blind to a truth the panther had known from the start—he hadn’t wanted to suffer as he’d done once before, hadn’t wanted to bleed his heart’s blood.

Hours passed. They watched. They waited. Birds began to wake but no Psy swooped down on them. It appeared the SnowDancers had kept their word and that whatever had happened to Sascha, it hadn’t been because the Council had learned she was helping them.

Nervous mothers started to relax but the soldiers remained on high alert. Just as the sky began to lighten, Sascha stirred. Lucas ordered everyone but Nate and Tamsyn out of the kitchen.

Her eyes opened and she stared up at the ceiling for several seconds before sitting up. “How did I get here?”

She looked bewildered and it was the first time he’d ever seen any Psy look that way. “May I have some water?”

Tamsyn was already holding out a glass. Taking it from her, Sascha drank it down. “Thank you.”

Nate frowned but heard the message. A minute later, Lucas was alone in the kitchen with Sascha.

Leaning forward, he did something he’d been aching to do since she’d woken. He lifted her up into his arms and sat down in a chair with her cradled in his embrace.

She froze. “What are you doing?”

As if she understood the anguish he’d gone through, she placed a slender hand hesitantly against his chest and tucked her head under his chin. “I think I was in a deep sleep state. My body is now functioning normally.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Her hand slapped over his mouth. “Don’t ever say that out loud. Ever. If you have any… care for me, don’t even think it.” Fear vibrated in her voice. “If anyone overhears, it’ll mean my death.” He kissed the palm of her hand and watched the night sky of her eyes darken in confusion. She jerked the hand away. “You’ll have to talk about it soon.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha walked into the living room after her shower and came face-to-face with a leopard male she had every reason to fear. “Hello, Dorian.”

He stared at her with those eyes of such pure blue it was impossible to believe the darkness that lurked within. “You did something to me.” It wasn’t an accusation but a statement of fact. The anger she’d expected was there, but it was a simmering shadow deep inside, not directed at her.

Dorian touched her cheek with his fingertips. Not used to touch from anyone but Lucas, she flinched.

His eyes narrowed and he dropped the hand. “No touching?”

To her surprise, he reached out to cup her face between his palms as he looked down into her eyes. “I want to see inside you,” he said. “I want to see if you have a heart, a soul.”

He was alpha and she was starting to understand what that really meant.

She felt his need, his anguish, his guilt. Taking a step forward, she put a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

His lashes swept down and when his eyes opened again, he let her see the bloody edge of the fury that drove him. “Not until he’s dead. Then we’ll talk about it.” Sascha let go of his shoulder and turned to look at Lucas, a silent plea in her eyes. He shook his head.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

No one could help Dorian until he was willing.

She smoothed a hand over her suit, which Tamsyn had ironed for her, and nodded. “Yes.” Fear crawled in from the corners of her mind. Enrique had likely left his spies around. He’d find her the second she walked back in. “I need to have something to give them since I was supposedly with you overnight.

They’ll expect me to have learned at least one fact.” Lucas walked closer and though he wasn’t touching her, she felt the pressure of his presence. It was as if her body knew his, as if it was reaching out to embrace him though they’d only ever kissed once.

Looking into that savage face with its slashing marker, she wondered whether he could see into the torment of her heart.

Dorian moved to stand in front of them. “What are you talking about?”

Sascha met Rina’s hostile gaze. “You don’t. You have no way of tracking the PsyNet.” The blonde came to a standstill, beside Dorian. “No lies, Psy?” Her eyes flicked nervously to Lucas even as she spoke.

Lucas’s fingers tightened on Sascha’s hand. “Are you questioning my judgment, Rina?”

The other woman clenched her fists. “What? I’m not allowed to ask questions anymore?” Lucas let go of Sascha’s hand. “There’s a fine line between asking questions and going too far.”

Your rank is so low you shouldn’t even be part of this conversation.” Sascha was stunned by the flatness of that declaration. She’d never heard Lucas sound so autocratic, almost cruel. He’d clearly hit Rina where it hurt—her pride. As she watched, Dorian moved to flank his alpha. Rina was left alone on the other side.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Mute, Rina shook her head. Sascha could feel waves of humiliation and shock coming off the girl. That alone told her neither of the men had ever before spoken to her like this. Unable to remain silent any longer, she said, “I think that’s enough.”

Rina shook her head. “No.” It was a whisper.

Don’t sleep with her like Barker did. It’s obviously affected his ability to treat her like a soldier.”

Without a word, the other two leopards left. Sascha waited until the door was closed to speak her mind.

dangerous territory without a single question. They’ve earned the right to say what they think about me.” Anger flickered in the green of his eyes. “Vaughn, Clay, Mercy, Tammy, Dorian, Nate, Desiree, Cian, Jamie, and even that idiot Barker are some of the ones who have the right to question my decisions. Rina doesn’t.”

Some of the anger in his voice lessened. “Yes. Today, she walked off her watch. That could’ve meant death for some of us if anyone unfriendly was out there.” He dropped his chin on her hair. “The newly mature males and females who are strong and independent enough to make good soldiers are also the hardest to control. If I let them have their way, they’d cause chaos.”

For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to worry about revealing herself. Lucas knew . The wonderful thing was, he didn’t think her flaw a flaw at all.

The simple practicality shook her. “I guess you’re not so different from the Psy—only the strong survive.”

Sascha hadn’t known that. “Sentinels?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

And that was the one thing the Psy would never do.

CHAPTER 15

Lucas watched Sascha walk out to the yard. She was creating her mask of Psy uniformity even as she moved. And though it enraged his beast to see her shutting him out, he knew he had to let her protect herself her way. It rubbed him raw that he couldn’t keep her safe, yet he was also proud of the strength in the fragile body of his mate.

Lucas dropped Sascha off around the corner from her apartment. “How are you going to explain the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

absence of your car?”

For a second the mists fell from her eyes and he saw the real woman. “I wish I’d been born in another time, another place. Then maybe I could’ve escaped fate… maybe I could’ve been your darling.” She was gone before he could speak. He watched her walk down the street and turn the corner. She never looked back.

Enrique hadn’t left Sascha a message the night before. He hadn’t needed to. Once again he was waiting for her in her mother’s office.

Careful, Sascha told herself. She couldn’t let them get suspicious about just what she knew and wasn’t telling. “I’m not sure the praise is warranted, Councilor. I’m merely using well-known Psy techniques for dealing with their species. As I said, they’re extremely wary about sharing any information with me.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha’s suspicions about Nikita and Enrique being a team grew stronger. “It’s difficult. The leopards use emotions as their social glue.” They could hardly fault her for being what they’d made her.

Enrique stared at her, cardinal eyes unblinking. “Unfortunately that’s true.” He looked at Nikita.

So they were in it together, whatever it was. Instead of defending her skills, she let them make up their minds without interruption, as if the sly insult mattered nothing. Of course the insult was only in her mind.

To Enrique it had probably been nothing more than a summation of her ability.

Sascha said her good-byes and left the office, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Throughout everything, she’d been trying to ignore the fact that her mother might be assisting a killer escape justice, inventing fairy tales where Nikita somehow remained free from the rest of the Council. Seeing her with Enrique had slapped her awake. The Council was divided in some matters but when it came to the outside world, they were a solid wall.

If one knew, they all knew.

It was equally obvious that Sascha had been meant to be a mole from the start. Nikita had been the one to pursue a deal other Psy avoided and she’d been the one who’d suggested Sascha’s ongoing involvement. Her earlier acquiescence to Sascha’s reporting to her, rather than to Enrique, had likely been nothing more than a power play. What Sascha didn’t know was what they’d hoped to learn.

She tried not to let her turbulent emotions filter through to the surface as she waited for the elevator.

Nikita was her mother, the only mother she had. Her heart didn’t want to accept that she was involved in something as dirty as covering a murderer’s tracks.

A whisper of sound reached her ears the second before a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. If she hadn’t been warned, she might’ve jumped and given away the game. Sliding smoothly out from under that hand like any normal Psy, she turned to face Enrique. “Was there something further, sir?”

At the word “unusual,” Sascha’s heart jumped into her throat. “I’m extremely ordinary, sir. As you know, my cardinal powers never developed.” She confessed the truth she hated because it might be the one thing that would get him uninterested in her.

Sascha felt a hole opening up beneath her feet. “I’ve been tested many times.” The elevator doors parted in a smooth swish at her back. Enrique glanced over her shoulder and took a small step back, his smile fading. “Latham.”

She fought the urge to collapse as the doors closed, paranoid that every public space was monitored.

The Councilor had detected something about her, something that had set him on her trail. He’d be relentless until he’d discovered exactly what it was that had set off his senses and then he’d show her no mercy. She’d seen his star on the PsyNet. There was no emotion there, no feeling, no flaw. Nothing but the coldest intelligence she’d ever glimpsed. He was the most perfect product of Silence.

Lucas didn’t head back to the safe house after dropping off Sascha. He had to give the appearance of normality. No one could suspect that the changelings were quietly preparing for possible war.

Leaving his car in the parking lot outside the DarkRiver building, he headed inside to see Zara. She had some things she wanted to talk to him about and he spent a good hour with her. Since she wasn’t leopard, she’d been kept out of the loop. They’d protect her if it came to that, but there was no reason to pull her into the mess. Not yet.

Because of that, she was continuing on with her designs, unaware the buildings might never be erected.

On the other hand, if they averted disaster by finding Brenna alive, this deal could become vitally important.

Despite those thoughts, his mind was almost fully focused on Sascha. Just what was she planning?

There’d been something very determined in her gaze as she’d stepped out of his car, and he wasn’t sure he’d liked the look of it. She was a stubborn female.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t breakable.

He knew she was going to put herself in danger and it infuriated him that he had no right to stop her. The beast in him growled, wanting those rights. The human half didn’t disagree. He’d had it with trying to be civilized. Sascha Duncan was about to be marked.

He looked up to find Clay at the door. Excusing himself from Zara, he walked with the sentinel until they were out of earshot. “What is it?”

attention to her might get her killed. “Did he catch anything else?” Clay shook his head.

Lucas looked at the piece of paper again. “If we combine the residents and the day staff, that building handles close to five hundred people daily. Add in the visitors and narrowing things down is going to be almost impossible.” To be so close without being close enough had to be killing the wolves. It was gnawing at him, and Brenna wasn’t part of his pack. “What did Hawke say?”

Staring at the computer panel built into a desk they were standing near, Lucas made a decision. “I’ll work the computers, too.” It’d give him something to do instead of standing by helplessly while Sascha put her life on the line. “Tell Hawke I’ll let him know if I get anything.” Clay left without questioning Lucas’s plan. Both of them believed in knowing the enemy. In the case of the Psy, that meant knowing computer systems inside out. The psychic race depended upon computers for everything. It was one of their only physical weaknesses.

But before doing anything else, both man and beast needed to make sure Sascha was safe. He pulled out his phone and punched in her code.

Her cool tones came on the line at once. “Mr. Hunter. What can I do for you?”

He swore as the phone clicked off. Attempting to hack into the Duncan mainframe didn’t make him forget what Sascha was doing, but it helped keep his mind busy. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that that was precisely what this was—busywork.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The answers to their questions weren’t in any normal computer but in the inaccessible vaults of the PsyNet.

* * *

Sascha wondered if she’d understood Lucas correctly. Had he been warning her to back off because the killer might be in the Duncan building? It should’ve scared her but it didn’t. Where she was going, physical distance mattered little and death could come far more swiftly than a murderer’s slicing blade. For the first time in her life, she was going to try to hack the PsyNet, quite possibly the biggest information archive in the world. Every Psy automatically linked into the PsyNet at the moment of birth.

There was no way to escape it. However, because the Psy were viciously practical businesspeople, they were all taught how to put up firewalls to hold off unwanted intrusions.

The firewalls kept the gigantic PsyNet at bay by isolating the Psy’s mind. However, all Psy fed data into the Net and some chose to live with complete openness to it. These individuals were considered extreme.

It wasn’t practical or efficient to live with information constantly filtering into your mind.

By the same token, tough firewalls were considered a sign of Psy strength. No one had raised a brow when, as a child, Sascha had begun building the strongest firewalls anyone had ever seen. As she’d grown, her firewalls had become ever more sophisticated.

It was the one thing she’d always excelled at, as if shielding skills had been imprinted upon her before birth. Other Psy had even come to her for training. She’d taught them many things but had kept back a few secrets, which, if discovered, might get her hauled before the Psy Council.

Though privacy was allowed and even encouraged, the NetMind was always aware of each and every individual in the Net. If a mind dropped out, the Psy was physically located and, in 100 percent of cases, was found to have either died or been damaged so badly that their mind had withdrawn as a prelude to death. Those were the only acceptable ways to leave.

Sascha hadn’t figured out any other way. But she had discovered how to mask her presence, how to move within the Net without alerting the NetMind. As a child she’d played the mental game instinctively—perhaps she’d already known that one day she’d need to hide or lose her life. Back then she’d gone nowhere a child wouldn’t go, so even if she’d been caught, no one would’ve thought to punish her. They would’ve simply put it down to a developing cardinal’s somewhat erratic powers.

The older she’d grown, the better she’d become at “ghosting.” The trick involved shadowing another mind, thereby gaining entrance to the mental rooms of information the shadowed mind had clearance for.

No hacking of the shadowed mind was required.

Ever since she’d realized she was close to the edge, she’d been shadowing people who might have access to the sealed records of the Center. It had been an attempt to fight the nightmare she’d glimpsed in her childhood. She’d wanted to prove to herself that her child’s mind had exaggerated the awfulness of the place. What she’d discovered had so horrified her, she’d started to look for minds who might know how to escape the Net and survive.

And had found nothing.

Tonight she was going to try to ghost a Council member. If she was found out, it would mean an automatic death sentence. The trick wasn’t going to be easy, notwithstanding the fact that not all of the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Councilors were cardinals.

Cardinals were often so cerebral, they cared nothing for politics. Conversely, some non-cardinal Psy had extraordinary defensive and attacking qualities that made them as dangerous as the most highly trained cardinals. Every one of the Councillors fell into the lethal category.

Taking a deep breath, she put her communication console on mute and sat down cross-legged on her bed. Loneliness enclosed her in silence. After spending so much time with changelings, she felt lost at the absence of touch, of laughter, of contact.

She missed Lucas Hunter most of all.

Something flickered in her mind and she felt the brush of fur against her cheek, the whisper of trees in her mind, the scent of the wind in her nostrils. A second later, the moment was gone. Had it been a sensory memory or… ?

She shook her head. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Her panther was relying on her. They all were. A woman’s life hung in the balance… and she was no longer so sure about the innate goodness of her people.

Closing her eyes, she went into her mind. The first thing she did was slip around her own firewall, leaving a vague ghost of her presence inside to fool the NetMind as to the current location of her consciousness.

It was a simple ruse that had taken years to perfect.

She stood hidden in the shadow of her own mind. Lights stretched endlessly in every direction that she could see. Some were barely visible, marking the presence of lesser Psy, while others blazed so brightly they were miniature suns. The cardinals. She looked at her own light and wondered at its difference.

The variation had developed around puberty and she’d been good enough at multilayered shielding by then to hide it under a false shell. To the PsyNet, her star blazed the same as the other cardinals’. She alone knew what it really looked like—a rainbow of sparks that shot joyfully in every direction and then coalesced back into her mind. If she’d allowed it to spark without barriers, it would’ve infected the entire Net by now.

Turning away from the hidden beauty of her mind, she looked for her targets.

Nikita’s star was easy to find, bound as she was to Sascha by lines of energy that told the story of their familial ties. Sascha had no intention of ghosting her mother. Not only was Nikita’s mind too attuned to hers, she didn’t think she could handle finding out that her mother was in league with those protecting a killer.

It was something no child should have to bear.

There were six other Councilors. An odd number to ensure that there would never be a hung vote.

Marshall Hyde was the most cold-blooded man she’d ever met, his PsyNet star a pinwheel of cutting blades. He was a cardinal and had had over sixty years to refine his talent.

Tatiana Rika-Smythe’s star was the softest light. She tested at 8.7 on the Gradient but that was deceptive. No one took a seat on the Council at such a young age without being ruthless in the way the Psy had patented.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Then there was Enrique. Deep in her soul, she shivered. There had been a personal touch to his recent interactions with her that couldn’t be explained away by what she suspected him of being engaged in with Nikita. She wouldn’t put it past him to lay a trap for her. His was one mind she wasn’t going near.

Ming LeBon was another cardinal. Though less experienced than Marshall, he, too, had had almost thirty years over Sascha to hone his skills. It was rumored that Ming’s particular specialty was mental combat.

Shoshanna and Henry Scott were both around 9.5 on the Gradient. The elegant and graceful Shoshanna was the public face of the Council, the one who appeared on broadcasts to the media and in newspaper articles. She looked fragile and harmless but could be as lethal as a viper.

Henry was her husband. They’d decided on a human-style marriage rather than a Psy reproduction contract in order to make themselves seem more sympathetic to the non-Psy news media. This wasn’t common knowledge.

Nikita had told Sascha back when she’d still been grooming her child for a position in the Council networks, before they’d both accepted that Sascha’s flaw was never going to fix itself.

Henry was her target. Though extremely powerful in his own right, he was clearly the beta member of the Shoshanna-Henry pairing. As such, he was the only Councilor who showed any submissive qualities.

He was also easy to find on the Net, even if you’d never come into contact with him and had no idea of his mental signature.

It was part of the Councilors’ jobs to be accessible to the populace they represented. In truth, the path to them was a minefield of assistants and guards. This would take work. Sascha began step-shadowing.

CHAPTER 16

She wailed for a mind heading in the right direction to pass by—she couldn’t move out herself or the NetMind would detect the anomaly of her presence in two places at once. When someone came close enough, she quickly took care of their simple alarms and merged into the edges of their consciousness, a shadow so fine, no one had ever detected her. She broke no moral law, exerted no mental influence. Her host was merely a vehicle to get her where she needed to go. From there, it was a game of luck and logic.

She shadowed one mind until it reached another that had permission to go further. It took her almost two hours to make it to Henry. Sticking to the consciousness of the assistant who’d brought her into the office, she began to gently circle around the edges of Henry’s firewall, looking for traps and alarms.

Within two minutes she’d found three, all of which she could neutralize while ghosting. A double check confirmed her initial findings. Henry was one of the oldest members of the Council and his firewall reflected his complacency.

Sliding from the assistant when the man’s consciousness passed close to Henry’s, she merged into the Councilor’s light, a speck of dirt so minute, it was impossible to see. It was fortunate for her that unlike most Psy, a portion of a Councilor’s consciousness was always active on the Net, because of their need to keep up with the massive inflow of data.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

From now on, she would go everywhere Henry ventured. If she was unlucky, he wouldn’t leave his mental office. But he could just as well lead her into the sealed records of the Council chambers. The chambers existed solely on the PsyNet because the Council was scattered around the world. Enrique, Nikita, and Tatiana being in such close proximity had been sheer chance.

Henry suddenly moved. The acrid taste of fear bloomed on her tongue but it passed when he spent the next two hours sweeping through the part of the PsyNet that stored their race’s history. She had no idea what he was looking for. This should’ve been a job for his assistants. Just as she was getting completely frustrated, she found him at the entrance to a vault she’d never known existed.

Inside were millions of memories and thoughts. Henry headed for his family’s section of the vault.

Temptation beckoned. Sascha knew it was a risk but this was a chance she couldn’t miss—she’d always been told that her family’s history had been corrupted by a rogue energy surge.

What if that, too, had been a lie?

Thankful that Henry had allowed his consciousness to spread in the vault, she drifted along the waves of his mind, riding swells until she reached the part that screamed with the Psy signature of her family.

Since she didn’t know how long she’d be in here, she simply streamed through, siphoning data into her shadow-mind. She’d release and examine it once she was back behind the privacy of her own firewalls.

Unexpected movement.

Henry was leaving. She’d taken advantage of his absorption in his task to venture to the furthest edge of his consciousness. Now it was snapping back into a tight coil and if she didn’t keep up, she’d be trapped here. Cut off from her mind for too long, her body would go into a coma from which she’d never recover.

Fear gnawed at the stomach of the woman on the bed but in the PsyNet, there was only a mind as calm as a pond. She barely managed to make it back before Henry went through the doors. After exiting, he charted a clear path to the darkest section of the Net, access to which was highly restricted. What she’d never expected as they cleared that section was the even darker core that lay within.

The Council chambers.

This was where it got tricky. If the other members were there, they might pick up what Henry hadn’t.

Nikita was the most dangerous. In the same manner that Sascha had recognized her family’s signature in the vault, her mother would recognize hers if even the faintest hint of her mind emerged from the shadow of Henry’s psyche.

However, Nikita had mentioned nothing about a meeting when they’d spoken. Sascha would’ve never instigated a ghosting otherwise. She told herself not to panic. Then they were through the final checkpoint and in the innermost core. Six other minds flared bright around them.

The Council was in session.

Taking desperate measures, Sascha forced herself to go under further than she’d ever before done, merging her consciousness with the outer layer of Henry’s on a molecular level. Prolonging such a merge could mean the destruction of her psyche but there was no other option.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Though she was outside Henry’s firewall and couldn’t hear what he was thinking, she could hear what he heard—the others’ thoughts all had to pass through his firewall and, by extension, through her, to reach his mind. That was the genius of ghosting.

Buried so deep that she was no longer a person, Sascha recorded the conversation without processing it. Reaction was her enemy here.

If Sascha had allowed herself to think, she might’ve been startled, having been unaware that Nikita had such a clear grasp of a truth most Psy ignored.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Too many of them have proven vulnerable to this particular side effect.”

The meeting concluded without further discussion. Henry made his way back through the door and the outer core, Shoshanna by his side. They didn’t speak until they were inside the walled rooms of their private vault.

you?”

Henry checked his calendar and began the return journey to the archives.

The part of him that was Sascha rose sluggishly to the surface, prodded awake by the recall of her earlier near-trapping in the vault. It took her precious seconds to realize her own consciousness. She’d come perilously close to losing herself in Henry. Detaching from him before he reached the vault was imperative but she had to separate as softly as she’d merged.

So she waited. They were almost to the vault when they passed a guard with a sloppy alarm system. She flowed from Henry to the guard’s shadow. When the man completed his circular route and reached the outer level of the restricted zone, she flowed onto another guard. Step-shadowing her way back to her own mind took over three hours in real time because she was tired, exhausted by the extended immersion in another’s consciousness.

At long last, she slipped back around her firewall and released the gathered information into her mind. It was like letting go of a data bomb loaded with shrapnel. Her eyes opened with a snap and she collapsed backward on the bed, her heart racing at a thousand beats per second. There was too much new information in her mind. She let it process while she lay there staring at the ceiling and thinking she was starving.

A look at her watch confirmed it was well past dinnertime. Groaning, she went to the console and checked for messages. There was one from Lucas. He looked very much like the predator he was, the lines on his face vivid against the golden heat of his skin. “Ms. Duncan. If you could spare some time this evening I’d like to discuss a matter to do with the design change. I’ll be at our earlier meeting place.” The message ended.

No one eavesdropping would’ve given it a second thought. Businesspeople left vague messages like that all the time. Only she saw the worry in those cat-green eyes, only she knew he’d called after she hadn’t gotten back in touch within a reasonable amount of time, only she ached to go to him.

A glance in the mirror showed her appearance to be completely acceptable. No one looking at her would’ve guessed at the turmoil inside. Decision made, she went to the console to return the call but changed her mind. No use alerting anyone who was watching her as to her whereabouts. Her heart twisted at the thought of Lucas worrying but she knew he’d have told her to do exactly what she was doing.

She changed out of the relaxed clothing she’d been wearing and into a severe black pantsuit and white shirt. It was the uniform of the Psy and she couldn’t afford to stand out. So armed, she walked out. And almost ran face-first into Enrique. If she hadn’t spent a lifetime keeping secrets, the shock might’ve made her shell crack.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

His dark eyes ran over her clothing. “A late meeting?”

The white stars in his eyes flickered in a way she found disturbing. “Don’t be too quick to turn down an offer of advancement.”

She’d thought he’d given up holding out that lure to her. How stupid did he think she was? “What are you offering?” she asked instead of laughing in his face.

Death was exactly what she was afraid he was offering. “Sir.” She kept her tone formal but the single word was a good-bye. She could feel his eyes on her back the entire length of the corridor. He knew something; he could obviously smell the flaw in her and was determined to expose it.

What she couldn’t understand was why he was giving her so much attention at a time when the Council was concentrating on finding out the serial’s identity. Was it possible he suspected her of being in league with the changelings?

As she entered the elevator and turned to face the closing doors, she saw him staring back at her across the distance. Belatedly, she remembered that Enrique was considered the best territorial strategician in the PsyNet.

He was a master at setting traps.

Lucas had almost scored grooves in the floor with his prowling. It was past ten at night—where was Sascha? If anyone had dared to harm her, he’d gut them with his bare claws. Someone moved behind him. “What is it, Nate?”

the pack?”

Lucas turned and looked into the other man’s face. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” At that moment, every instinct he had flared bright red. “She’s here.” Pushing past Nate, he ran out the back door just as Sascha’s car came to a smooth stop behind the house.

She exited, looking as cold as a statue. Except he’d seen inside that stone mask. Aware that this area was safe from prying eyes, he went to her and hauled her into his arms. She stiffened and then hesitantly returned the hug. “I was very careful. No one followed me here.”

Dorian and Kit had run into the room as he’d exited and now they stood there with Tamsyn and Nate.

Despite having seen Sascha before, all the males seemed shocked at the embrace they’d witnessed.

Ignoring them for now, Lucas sat Sascha down in a chair, able to feel her tiredness.

To his surprise, she looked around for Tamsyn. “I’m sorry but I’m very hungry.” The healer grinned. “Then you’ve come to the right place. Let me get you something.”

He’d taken a chair to her left and moved it so it faced her. “Dorian. Kit.” The command was apparent.

Following Nate’s lead, they took sentinel positions around the room. “Who’s on the outside?”

The juvenile looked like he wanted to argue but he must’ve seen the implacability in Lucas’s eyes.

Without a word, he left. A minute later, Mercy entered and took his position. This was a matter for adults, not children, and no matter how grown up he looked, Kit was still considered a cub. He’d been allowed to stay behind but would never be asked to fight except as a last resort.

Taking Sascha’s hand in his, he met her eyes. “Eat first.” Tamsyn put a plate of sandwiches in front of her. She refused to let go of his hand as she picked them up one by one and demolished them. The chocolate cookies went the same way, as did the glass of milk.

There was such bliss on her face after each bite that he wondered what she’d do when he lavished real pleasure on her, something he had every intention of doing.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha looked like she wanted to smile but didn’t quite know how to pull it off. “I hacked the PsyNet.” Everyone went silent.

She met his eyes. “I would’ve been executed.”

CHAPTER 17

They’d discuss it privately. And he’d teach his Psy that when it came to Pack, one member’s life was very much relevant.

Dorian made a sound of anguish. A flare of Psy energy lit up Lucas’s senses and when it flared back down, Dorian was calmer but no less frustrated.

He narrowed his eyes. “How long?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She flinched. “I’m strong enough. I’m a cardinal.”

There was something broken about her statement but he knew this wasn’t the place to pursue it. He’d gentle the truth out of her in private.

Lucas knew the answer. “You’re going to be the bait, aren’t you? The trap is going to be on the PsyNet.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Dorian spit out a curse. “When they gave up their emotions, they gave up their humanity.” Sascha looked at the angry leopard. “I agree. I’m sorry your sister was stolen from you. If I could reverse your pain, I would. But I can’t. All I can do is try to save another life.” Dorian’s response surprised everyone in the room. “You’re different, Sascha. I’m not so angry that I can’t see the truth. You feel. ”

Sascha’s laugh was so bittersweet, it ruffled Lucas’s fur the wrong way. “My entire life, I’ve been terrified of those words. I always believed it would be one of the Council who discovered me. I never thought of it as a good thing… until I met you.” She was looking at Lucas with eyes of ebony night, not a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

star in sight.

Nate, Dorian, Mercy, and Tamsyn voiced their agreement. Sascha had just earned the respect of some of the toughest leopards in DarkRiver. Once she was Pack, the others would follow their lead. And Lucas had no doubt that Sascha was going to become part of his pack.

Her face looked incredibly sad for a second. “No one escapes from the PsyNet.” She glanced at the leopards around the room. “Thank you for showing me more life in a few days than I ever expected to experience. I won’t go down easy—I want to live .” Lucas refused to let her say good-bye. “Who says no one ever escapes from the PsyNet? Has anybody ever tried?”

Her eyes widened. “No.”

He shook his head. “Not as far as you know. If they’re keeping quiet about serial killers, don’t you think they’d bury the loss of any Psy out of the Net?”

Kylie’s death had never been forgotten and until vengeance was taken, it would remain a burning pain in his soul.

And his woman? If anyone so much as bruised her, he’d destroy them. He reached out to rub at the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re exhausted. Even if we let you run this insane plan, you can’t do it now.”

Sascha stood and he felt the sharp rush of her disappointment. The vain cat in him preened, but the protective, possessive panther silently promised he’d make it up to her.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He smiled. Sascha Duncan was no longer Psy, even if she refused to see that. Poor baby. He was going to enjoy educating her about living life as his mate.

Tamsyn closed the bedroom door before giving Sascha the cup of hot chocolate she’d whipped up.

There was such an intense look on the woman’s face that even without her strange ability to sense emotion, Sascha knew that whatever the healer had to tell her, it wouldn’t be easy.

She heard the unspoken words as clearly as if Tamsyn had opened her mouth and shaped them into sound. “Why tell me at all?”

Tamsyn sat down on the bed beside her and took a shaky breath. “When Lucas was barely thirteen, a small band of roaming leopards tried to infiltrate our territory. We weren’t as strong back then and the ShadowWalkers thought they could destroy our power structure and install themselves as alpha.” She sighed. “It’s been done before—we might be more humane than the Psy but we’re not perfect.” Sascha didn’t interrupt, caught by the jagged shards of pain she could hear in Tamsyn’s normally even tones.

Sascha had barely begun to give in to her hunger for touch, barely begun to understand that it was as essential to her as food, but she could feel Tamsyn’s need like a second heartbeat. She put her hand over the other woman’s. Tamsyn’s fingers curled over hers.

Afterward, we realized the original plan must’ve been to break Carlo by making him witness the rape and torture of his mate.” Tamsyn’s fingers threatened to crush Sascha’s weaker bones.

She took another trembling breath. “But the ShadowWalkers underestimated Shayla. She was a healer but she was also a mother and she fought for the life of her child. The other leopards couldn’t afford to lose Carlo but in the fighting, Shayla was killed.”

a promise, which Sascha gladly gave. “Lucas was so young, much weaker than the adult males who attacked them. He was easily contained when he tried to save his parents.” Sascha’s heart hurt for the panther who was so possessive and protective. Now she understood his need to mark her, to hold her safe. “Was his father captured?”

Sascha felt a sob catch in her throat. “They tortured him to break Carlo?” Tamsyn nodded. “They wanted what Carlo knew—the locations of our safe houses, the routes we run, our alpha pair’s lair and defense grid.”

Tamsyn nodded. “We were strong enough to drive them off but not to track and take them down without leaving our young vulnerable. As a result, we lived under a kind of martial law for five years, never leaving the group, never making ourselves targets.” Her eyes met Sascha’s. “When Lucas was only eighteen and still a juvenile by our standards, he went out one night with a pack of sentinels and some others. The sentinels had given him their loyalty the day they learned that despite the torture, he hadn’t broken.” Sascha couldn’t begin to imagine the strength of will it must’ve taken for Lucas to honor his loyalty to Pack. But he had.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sascha wasn’t repulsed by the violence. It was far more palatable to her than the hypocrisy of the Psy, who let killers roam free while championing their peaceful image. At least the changelings were honest. At least they loved enough to hunger for vengeance. All the Psy hungered for was power.

The healer wasn’t convinced. “The ShadowWalkers kept him tied up. They made him watch his father being tortured before turning on him. The things they did… Don’t ask him to be the one who anchors you.”

Don’t ask him to watch you die while he stands helpless.

Sascha nodded but they both knew that turning Lucas from his chosen path was an almost impossible task.

In spite of her mental exhaustion, she was lying awake in bed when she felt his presence nearby. A minute later, he pushed open the bedroom door and closed it behind him, treating her room as his territory.

She knew that to let him have his way would only reinforce his already autocratic tendencies, but she also knew that her chance of surviving her impending mental collapse, trap or no trap, was close to nil.

Either she’d flame out or the Council’s mercenaries would hunt her down after her shields failed.

Time was rushing out from between her desperately cupped hands—she didn’t want to pretend not to adore him tonight. Quite simply, he was everything she’d ever dreamed of and never dared to touch.

In the soft darkness he was all masculine prowl as he got into bed beside her, lying atop the blankets while she lay below, barely dressed in an old T-shirt that Tamsyn had found. She’d given it to Sascha with an odd comment: “No other scent will pacify him.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He put one arm over her body. “I want to be naked under those sheets with you.” She felt herself blush and gloried in finally being able to just “be.” Death was certain. She might as well enjoy the life she had left. “Is that how you usually woo prospective lovers?” She was teasing; this felt right , as if she’d been loving him forever.

He nuzzled at her neck, one hand moving up the sheet to clasp hers as it lay open beside her head.

Her heart threatened to stop beating. “What are you talking about?”

For an instant, she was completely fascinated. “Do your eyes always do that in the dark?”

She pulled it back up. “I’m not responsible for your dreams.” He spoke against her lips. “Do you know my favorite part?” Not waiting for her response, he said, “It was where you tasted me. I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life. I was mad as hell to wake up and find myself alone.”

Sascha couldn’t breathe. It was suddenly far too hot. Pushing at the confining blanket, she shoved it down, helped along by Lucas. Too late she realized that her legs were now bare to her upper thighs. It didn’t matter. Only the dreams mattered.

Without stopping to think, she scraped her nails down the hot steel of his abdomen. Hard. He purred and she froze. “I don’t know how I did it—it wasn’t intentional.” She’d never have had the courage to taste him if she’d thought him real.

Which was exactly what he was.

Then he did something utterly unexpected and mind-blowingly sensual. Giving her no warning, he moved his head and bit her nipple gently through the T-shirt. Her back arched. A scream threatened to rip from her throat. Instead of letting go, he sucked hard, making her mindless with lust. By the time he released

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

her, his knees were on the inside of her thighs and he was slowly spreading her open.

He pushed himself up above her and used the fingers of one hand to tug at the nipple he hadn’t sucked.

She had to fight herself not to reach out and pull down the zipper of his jeans, knowing precisely what he’d feel like in her palms. Hot, hard, silky smooth, and perfect.

CHAPTER 18

Her entire body was a heartbeat pounding in time to the pulse between her legs. “Why did Tamsyn give it to me?”

His eyes glowed in the darkness and he was at once intensely beautiful and intensely wild. “In the dreams you wore lace panties.”

He thrust her over the edge with rough tenderness that tore a scream from her throat, her Psy mind no longer caring who was in the house, who was listening. She let the almost violent pleasure rip through her until she was damp, limp, and sated against his palm. When she opened her eyes, it was to find that he hadn’t changed position.

Meeting her gaze, he removed his hand from between her legs, brought his palm to his mouth, and licked his fingers clean. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. Her body quivered with aftershocks but something deeper was already awakening within.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

If she hadn’t had those dreams, if she hadn’t learned that he gave far more pleasure than he ever asked for, if she hadn’t already tangled with his male demands and hunger, she might’ve balked.

Biting down on her lower lip, she ran a finger down the length of him.

She couldn’t break away, couldn’t stop herself from grabbing onto his waist and digging her fingers into his flesh. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she responded instinctively, tangling hers with his. His body was pure heat and sensation under her hands, the body of a male who’d never say no to touch.

He thought about it for a while, his fingers playing with her wet nipple through the soft cotton fabric. “I don’t want to.”

Her stomach clenched each time he plucked at the bud he’d sensitized to the extreme. “How can I…

take you in my mouth if you don’t?” In the glimmering darkness, the question was an erotic invitation she hadn’t known she had the capacity to make.

He moved and it was so fast she barely caught it. Watching him stand beside the bed stripping off the rest of his clothing was a pleasure all on its own. There was no need for light, not when his skin seemed to shimmer with a fine layer of savage energy to her Psy senses. She was stunned by the dangerous beauty of him. When she sat up, his head whipped to pin her to the spot. “I don’t want you to move.” Alpha to the core, his order was arrogantly assured.

He pounced with that stunning speed and she found herself flat on her back with his length pressed along her front. He’d clasped her wrists together and had them pinned above her head before she could gasp in Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

a breath. “Now you’re all mine.” The comment held a hunting cat’s pleasure at cornering his prey.

But this prey had claws. Reaching out with her mind, she wrapped mental hands around the erection that was nudging at her entrance. His body arched as a shout was torn from him. “What are you doing, kitten?”

He leaned down and lapped at her nipple through the T-shirt, the gesture so feline that she was shocked into a moan. “I’m not feeling playful.”

He bit the side of her neck hard enough to mark but not hurt. “Stop that.”

He braced himself on his hands above her, setting her free to grasp the hard length of his erection. He thrust into her hold, head thrown back, the tendons on his neck standing out in sharp relief. Not quite knowing how she knew what to do, she pushed up until she could slide her legs between the vee created by his kneeling thighs.

As he watched to see what she’d do next, she slithered her body down the bed until the hard evidence of his hunger was right above her. Holding onto his hips, she raised her head off the bed and took him inside her mouth.

His growl made every nerve in her body flicker with warning. But she didn’t stop. She had skin privileges and she was going to take every advantage. He tasted better than her dreams, as rich and delectable as the most exquisite chocolate, as exotic as the panther he was.

Her neck was getting tired but she didn’t want to let go. Pulling at his hips, she moved down but he refused to follow, sliding slowly out of her mouth and driving her to the edge of insanity.

Lucas, please. It was a wild plea from her mind to his.

You can do anything you like! she agreed without thought, so drunk on the overload of sensory pleasure that she was his slave.

He purred and did as she’d asked, moving his hips just enough to tease, to tempt. Craving him so badly that she could no longer function on any level but the physical, she sucked hard, squeezing her hands over the taut muscles of his buttocks. He groaned as she used her tongue to stroke the underside of his erection. She knew what he liked, had learned from the dreams that weren’t dreams. Given free rein over his body, she used every skill she had to drive her wild lover to distraction.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She complied, digging her nails into his flesh. The tiny pleasure-pain made his muscles lock around her.

Moaning deep in her throat, she poured everything she had into the loving, licking, sucking, giving .

He came for her in shuddering waves, a wordless growl emanating from his throat.

Maybe ten minutes later, Sascha realized she was still wearing the T-shirt. She tried to extricate herself from Lucas, who had her completely pinned to the bed, but he refused to move. He’d buried his face against her and now he licked out at her pulse, lazily tasting the salt on her.

She bit the side of his neck. “Lucas.”

A low purr vibrated against her breasts, shocking sensation down her aroused body. Every nerve ending quivered in need so deep it hurt.

He rolled off her. His slitted eyes glowed a soft green in the darkness. They didn’t leave her for an instant and the second she was naked, he pounced. Once again she found herself at his mercy. This time she was lying on her stomach, his hard length buried in the crease of her buttocks. “But you…” He ran his fingernails up her side, making her entire body shiver. “I’m not human, Sascha. It takes more than a single round to leave me unable to perform.” He nibbled at the shell of her ear.

She made a soft noise that was so full of need she startled herself. Lucas seemed to like it. Dipping lower, he rubbed at her, threatening to drive her to insanity.

Lucas. It was an intimate whisper.

Blushing, but unwilling to miss out on anything he wanted to show her, she bent her knees and pushed up. He moved the hand petting her curls to flatten over her stomach while his free hand stroked her bottom. She’d never felt more exposed, more vulnerable.

The hand on her bottom slipped down to the insides of her thighs and he pushed gently until she’d widened her stance. A throaty rumble sounded from behind her. Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation.

With another murmur that was more sound than words, he put one hand on her hip while the other Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

continued to lie against her stomach and then he tasted her. A scream tore at her throat at the first slow lick. She could feel herself trembling and it was only the start.

Unhurried and careful, he lapped at her like a cat with a bowl of cream, intent on tasting every drop. Her entire body turned into liquid flame. She could barely breathe through the sensations, her face burning with heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

He moved the hand on her hip down to the inside of her thigh again. She let him widen her stance even more, let him use his fingers to spread her for a deeper taste, let him savor her until she saw stars. She just… let him. He took full advantage and she learned what it was like to be loved by an alpha panther who thought she belonged to him.

There was nothing tentative about his intimate kiss. Every touch screamed possession. The fingers on her thigh were hot and strong, holding her where he wanted her as his mouth ravaged her with a kind of rough tenderness she had no defense against.

She was almost insane with need when he nipped at her bottom with his teeth. “I’m sorry, kitten. I’m moving too fast but I want to be inside you.”

Fast? He thought this was fast? What was Lucas’s definition of slow? I need you . She was speaking to him on the most private of levels, not even thinking about what she was doing so easily.

She sensed him rise behind her, nerves taut with expectation. A soft scream escaped when he started to push into her. It felt like he was invading more than her body—he was going deep into her mind. And she wanted him deeper.

He surged forward in response to her silent urging. A sharp note of unexpected pain infiltrated her pleasure. “Wh-what? Lucas?”

Reacting to instincts so old they had no name, she rotated her hips in a slow circle. His arm tightened against her stomach, enclosing her in pure muscle. The heat of his chest almost burned—it felt as if his body temperature was much higher than hers. One masculine hand rose to close over her breast, his fingers plucking at the nipple. Crying out, she moved again.

The hand on her breast slipped to clasp her hip. “Stop that.” She repeated the motion.

And felt the panther in Lucas take over. He pulled out almost all the way and then surged deep. Her body started to shake. Unable to remain still, she pushed back toward him.

His teeth closed over the curve of her neck, holding her in place as he drove them both to the edge. The hold wasn’t painful, just so proprietary that she felt utterly possessed. It was a reminder that her lover wasn’t human, wasn’t Psy, wasn’t controllable.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She adored him exactly as he was.

His hand slipped to the curls between her legs, finding the throbbing nub that she ached to have caressed. He knew perfectly how to rub, how to tease. Her scream came from deep inside her soul. In her passion, she reached back and scraped her nails down his biceps.

With a growl, he let go of her neck and began to move so hard and fast she could no longer meet him.

Instead, she melted, accepting his hunger, his need, his claim , even as her body shattered into a thousand pieces, brilliant sparks of primitive color flashing before her eyes.

To her shock, Lucas pulled out of her. Before she could complain, he’d turned her in his arms and pulled her to sit with her legs around his hips. He was so deep inside her barely a breath later that she couldn’t think.

She obeyed without thought. And met the glowing green of eyes gone utterly panther. “Why?”

This time, his movements were deep and fast and unstoppable. She rode the storm, let him push her over again and again, let her wildness out to play. It was the most intimate, most dangerous, most wonderful dance of her life. When his muscular body shuddered in her arms and he let out a rough shout, she felt every feminine instinct she had moan in pleasure.

They’d just finished breakfast when Lucas informed Sascha he was going to speak to Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha whom she’d never met, at least not while conscious. Vaughn and Mercy, who were also sitting at the table with them, looked up.

Ever. After the night she’d spent in Lucas’s arms, she could no longer keep up the pretence of being a normal Psy. Her shields were holding on the psychic plane but maintaining her mask in the real world had become impossible.

Then there was the fact that Lucas had marked her.

The second she’d walked into the kitchen, Tamsyn’s eyes had gone to the bite mark on her neck. She’d thought the healer would be angry given what she’d told Sascha the day before. Instead, the other woman had grinned and said, “I bet you’re starving.” So far no one had mentioned the screams. Or the long scratch marks on Lucas’s arms. She’d nearly died when she’d come down to find him sitting at the table wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt. It was one thing to come apart in his embrace, quite another to have others bear witness to her utter surrender. At least he was putting on his black leather-synth jacket for the meeting with Hawke.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Those cat-green eyes narrowed. “No one is going to contain you.” He walked around to her side of the table and bent down to kiss her right in front of his people. It was no peck on the cheek. She gripped onto his waist and held on as he kissed her in a way that was blatantly sexual and possessive without end.

A minute later he was gone, leaving her starving for him. When she glanced at the two sentinels, she saw no reaction on their faces. Vaughn scared her. He wasn’t cold and distant like Clay, but there was a prowling darkness behind his eyes that made her wonder just how close to the surface his beast was.

Mercy was a little more approachable but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the sentinels wanted her gone. She couldn’t blame them. She was part of a race guilty of helping the worst kind of scum. Who knew what she’d drag Lucas into?

They nodded.

The changelings didn’t know the extent of the PsyNet. It had eyes and ears in every corner of the world, shadows within shadows. It was impossible to escape it physically even if her mind could somehow survive the mental separation.

Wherever she went, whatever she did, they’d hunt her down. They would’ve done so for any renegade because dissent undermined the Silence Protocol. However, her case would garner an extreme reaction—she was Nikita’s daughter. Not only did she know too much, her defection would strike at the heart of the Council’s image of invincibility.

Vaughn leaned forward, those strange almost gold-colored eyes focused completely on her. “If I’d thought you were going to harm Lucas, I would’ve ensured you never had the chance.”

His lip quirked. “No.”

Mercy put down her coffee cup. “Stop playing with her mind, Vaughn. I think she’s been through enough.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She should never have heard those sounds or seen the nightmarish creatures who’d made them, but Nikita had taken her in one day when she’d been barely ten years old. She’d never forget her mother’s words—“Don’t ever be anything but perfect, Sascha. This is the result of failure.” Sascha had been a teenager before she’d understood why Nikita had gone that far. She had to have been aware of her child’s flaw, had to have seen inside her mind before she was old enough to protect herself.

The harsh gesture had worked—to the outside world, Sascha had never been anything less than perfect.

She’d even convinced Nikita that her flawed daughter had become a Psy to the absolute core. Until she’d started cracking apart.

Mercy’s words had Sascha’s throat closing up. “I need to ask you both a favor.” Vaughn raised a brow. He might have let her live but she knew he was withholding final judgment.

Vaughn stood and she thought he was rejecting her plea. But instead of leaving the room, he walked around to the back of her chair. Putting his hands on the wood, he leaned down until his lips touched her neck. She froze, feeling the power contained in that dangerous male body. He could snap her neck with one hand.

CHAPTER 19

It was the last thing she’d ever expected to hear.

Mercy closed her hand over Sascha’s clenched fist. “We don’t let Pack members die without a damn good fight.”

Sascha felt tears burn at her eyes. “You don’t understand!” Vaughn nuzzled his way up her neck and bit her lightly on the ear before standing to his full height, his hands on her shoulders. “We understand you think the PsyNet is omnipotent. That’s because it’s all you’ve ever been taught.” He moved around to lean against the table by her side. “But the rules have changed.”

Sascha looked up into the other woman’s face. “I’m only a broken Psy.”

A retort was on the tip of Sascha’s tongue when she frowned and remembered those secret family files she’d retrieved but never examined. “I need to think,” she muttered, already withdrawing into her mind.

Neither of the sentinels said a word. They simply ensured her protection while she sat there thumbing through pages and pages of mental data. Somewhere during that time, Tamsyn came into the kitchen and started baking cookies. With one corner of her mind, Sascha felt the healer’s sorrow at having had to send Julian and Roman away. Lucas had shared the truth of their absence last night, trusting her more than she trusted herself. Tamsyn couldn’t, wouldn’t, go with her children—she was the healer and if blood was spilled, they’d need her.

Barely even thinking about it, Sascha gathered in Tamsyn’s sharp sadness and took it inside her. As always, the emotions of others settled like rocks against her heart but she knew she could deal with it.

Somehow, she had the power to neutralize those negative feelings.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she was startled out of her trancelike state by a kiss on the back of her neck. Only one male had the power to shatter her so completely. She blinked and turned to find Lucas behind her. He pulled her to her feet, his face set in harsh lines.

His Hunter marks became vividly delineated. “I told you to stay put.”

His answer was a low growl that made every tiny hair on her body stand up.

Suddenly, she became aware of the others in the room. Vaughn, Mercy, and Tamsyn had now been joined by Dorian and Clay. Silent as the predators they were, the sentinels and the healer continued about their business, but she knew they were listening.

baking cookies while you were gone?” A twinge of amusement from somewhere in the room made her turn and say, “No offense intended, Tamsyn.”

He was very careful with his strength but the dominance of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. “Stop it.” He might be alpha but she was a cardinal.

He didn’t bother to answer, speaking to his sentinels instead. “Why the hell did you let her disobey my orders?”

She kicked out with her boot, catching Lucas on the shin. He didn’t wince. “You’ll pay for that.” It was a silky warning.

And it made her explode. She might have been a failure as a cardinal, but she had a little specialty not many people knew about. Reaching out with her mind, she pushed Lucas Hunter so hard, he was two feet from her before he could blink.

Everyone froze.

Sascha realized she’d just attacked the alpha of DarkRiver. Too bad. He’d been acting like a complete Neanderthal. Meeting those eyes, which had gone more panther than human, she put her hands on her hips and tried to pretend the telekinetic effort hadn’t worn her out.

She was ready. Using her remaining strength, she jumped backward onto the table, the action almost catlike. Her Psy mind had watched the way the leopards moved and now it mimicked the beautifully smooth motion. Lucas’s eyes widened as he found her halfway across the table. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He started to smile. “Come here.”

Her lips twitched. Feeling silly crouching on the table now that he was no longer chasing her, she jumped off to stand in front of him. His hand went to her neck again, holding her in a possessive grasp. Except this time, there was sensuality instead of anger in his touch. His kiss burned her through to her toes.

When he lifted his head, she took a few moments to catch her breath. “Have you heard of privacy?” she asked, aware of her skin turning scarlet. She could no longer curb the physical reactions of her body.

That shield had burned out last night.

Tamsyn laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing.” Sascha batted at Lucas’s hold until he let her go, content to prowl behind her as she walked to stand on the other side of the counter from Tamsyn. “What?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “DarkRiver males are damn possessive and complete exhibitionists during the mating dance.”

Sascha ran through her dictionary of changeling terminology and could find no fit. “Mating dance?” Mercy whistled. Dorian winced. Tamsyn suddenly got interested in her dough. Clay and Vaughn mysteriously disappeared. Behind her, Lucas’s body was a hard wall of heat. “I think we need to discuss this upstairs.”

He picked her up in his arms, shocking her into immobility. Before she could find the breath to complain, he was running up the stairs. A minute later, he dumped her on the bed and lay down beside her.

He threw a leg over hers. “Don’t try any more tricks, kitten.” Just for that, she found another spurt of power and pushed his leg off her. A second later it was back.

She narrowed her eyes. “I could turn your mind into mush if I wanted.”

Her entire body turned into a flame. “You can’t say things like that!”

Long fingers found her breast through her bra and plucked at her nipple.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Her eyes flicked open, cold fear dousing the fire he’d stoked. “What happens if one half of a mated pair dies?”

They were words she’d waited for her whole life but she couldn’t accept them. “Don’t I get a choice?”

Her fingers tunneled into the silky lushness of his hair. “Stop.” He murmured in pleasure and his other hand slipped down to cup her between her legs. Even through the material of her slacks, she felt the rough heat of his hold.

She tugged at his head and he lifted it only enough to give him room to move to her other breast. Instead of pushing down the cup, he licked her through it, one hand molding her stomach. It was impossible to think with this much sensation overloading her. But she had to speak, she had to make him understand.

He raised his head. “I know you inside out.”

Her entire body shuddered and for an instant she was nothing but a creature of the flesh.

She shook her head, shaken by the power of his words, the addiction of his touch. “I could kill you with one thought.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He rubbed his jaw across the skin of her upper breasts. “Could you, kitten?” That easily, he won their personal war. Lucas was more important to her than her own life. “Don’t,” she said. “Stop this before it’s too late.”

Looking into those cat eyes, she was certain he meant every word. She was as certain that she had to stop him before he tied himself to a woman who was so deeply broken, she wasn’t even sure she was Psy anymore.

A day later, Sascha sat in the living area of the safe house trying to think up arguments to convince Lucas of the soundness of her plan. The problem was, she hadn’t figured out how to create the diversion that would give the killer a head start to scenting her. She’d spent the whole day trying to think of something and all she’d come up with was a crude “bomb.”

If she couldn’t work out anything else by tomorrow, she’d have to use that—Brenna had suffered enough. At least neither Enrique nor Nikita had tried to contact her so far. She assumed that they were distracted by their own plan to catch the serial killer.

Lucas had been in and out throughout the day and she guessed that he’d been putting plans in place in case they weren’t able to save the lost SnowDancer. Right now, he was standing by the window, staring out into the night. His skin glowed a burnished gold in the soft light of the lamps around the room.

She remained curled up in the corner of the sofa, watching him as warily as a gazelle might watch a lion.

Lucas wasn’t human, wasn’t Psy. He was a predator and he’d decided she was his. It was going to take everything she had to get away from him before she destroyed them both.

Even if Lucas didn’t allow her to execute her plan, the Council’s mercenaries would hunt her down on the PsyNet the second her failing shields revealed her flaw. Her firewalls were already starting to show the finest of hairline fractures. She might not be able to save herself but she would save Lucas. She would not sentence him to a life without a mate, no matter how much she ached for him to belong to her. “My family’s history.”

Someone walked into the room from the kitchen. Tamsyn’s slender frame was followed by Nate’s larger body. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

Lucas shifted from his position by the window and headed over to the sofa. His eyes tracked Nate’s every move and Sascha felt a huge wave of almost dangerous possessiveness hit her. In a quiet moment while Lucas had been out, Tamsyn had shared that leopards were highly unstable at this stage of the mating dance and liable to attack anyone they saw as a threat.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She’d asked Sascha not to dispute Lucas’s claim, warned her that fighting an alpha male during mating was simply not done. Sascha understood why Tamsyn had cautioned her but knew she couldn’t follow the healer’s advice, not if it meant a lifetime of loneliness for this male she adored. But she let him sit beside her on the sofa, let him put her feet on his thighs, let him massage her calves.

Lucas’s hand tightened on her calf, a silent signal to pay attention to him. “Was it?”

Sascha was struck by the trust evident between the two. No Psy would ever leave herself that vulnerable to a bigger male. Yet Tamsyn had without hesitation. And so had Sascha when she’d let Lucas love her as he pleased. These men might have the potential for the negative emotions that had driven her race to cripple their own children, but they also had the ability to care on a level the Psy would never experience.

A tree limb waved across the uncurtained window, casting shadows against the wall. And she became aware she was sitting in Lucas’s lap, held to him by one arm while the other moved rhythmically over her outer thigh. She should’ve have been frightened at her need for him, a need so deep it was overriding the powerful mental blocks she’d created to force herself to keep her distance. Instead, she wanted to rub up against his masculinity until heat and sensation were all she was.

Sascha undid the top buttons of his shirt and slipped her hand inside to lie against the fury of his heartbeat. Almost immediately, she felt him pull his aggression back under control. It no longer startled her how she knew what to do to soothe her mate—it was part of the magic. “The terminology used back then was different. Ai was labeled an E-Psy. We no longer have that term in our lexicon.” Tamsyn frowned. “Was there any other information?”

Everyone under seven years of age was automatically enrolled into the Protocol.” She couldn’t imagine how that young girl must’ve felt at being taught to obliterate everything she’d learned to value.

Lucas’s fingers stroked through her hair, which he’d undone while she’d been speaking. “But Ai survived.”

non-specialized Psy.” More had been destroyed than simply Ai’s soul.

Sascha wept deep inside for the two women she’d never had the chance to know. What must it have done to Mika to watch the child she’d named Ai—which meant “love” in her language—be taught to devalue that very emotion?

Sascha dragged her mind back from the horrors of the past. “Psy are classified according to our psychic strength and specialization. For example, my mother is a Gradient 9.1 Tp-Psy, which means her major talent lies in the area of telepathy. Like most Psy, she has several other skills, but in terms of strength, they all fall below 2 on the Gradient—our measuring system.” She paused to ensure they understood.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

There are several other fields of talent. Telepaths are relatively common and tend to have other specialties within their telepathy.”

Like her mother with her viral poisons and Ming LeBon’s genius at mental combat. “Medical is midrange. Some rarer specialties include psychometry, the teleportation-capable telekinetics, and transmutation—the ability to force a physical object to change its shape. The most rare are the F-Psy.” Lucas’s hand slipped under her shirt to lie against the skin of her back, hot and burning, a brand she had no desire to escape. She was having to fight herself as much as him in this shatteringly important decision.

Not to mention the rest of the pack.

The leopards had closed ranks. No one would tell her what the final steps of the mating dance were so she could avoid taking them. She was their alpha’s chosen mate and they weren’t going to give her the chance to slip away. Even Vaughn had refused, though she’d tried to convince him it would save Lucas’s life. Not one of them understood the power of the PsyNet. It could not be fought.

CHAPTER 20

If they hadn’t succumbed to the lure of cold hard cash, forgetting the human emotions behind death and loss, perhaps Lucas’s parents would still be alive. How could he not hate her people? Hate her ?

She nodded and decided not to mention that she’d had to make a quick visit to the PsyNet to do so. “It wasn’t hidden. I guess they thought no one would ever care to look it up. Until Silence, E was an accepted designation. It disappeared soon after the Protocol went into effect and wasn’t replaced in the classification charts.” She made a frustrated sound. “But I don’t know what it means!”

It was the one question she didn’t want to answer, the one question that showed her how useless she was. “I’m non-specialized.”

Sascha smiled at the thought of Julian and Roman’s mischievous welcome. “Telepathy is a base skill necessary for survival.” Otherwise, the uplink to the Net couldn’t be created or maintained. “All Psy have it to at least 1.0 on the Gradient. However, I have telepathy to approximately 3.5 on the Gradient, telekinetic powers to around 2.2, and whispers of some of the other powers to no real level.”

She found him wearing that same smile. “Tell me.”

Leaning forward, he nipped her lower lip. “That was for the push.” She made a face. “Watch out or I’ll use some of my transmutation powers—I have enough to turn your hair green.” It was a bluff but she got to see Lucas’s eyes narrow in warning as he debated whether she was serious.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Lucas’s body was a study in silent danger. “Where are Vaughn and Clay?”

Lucas whipped her a blazing green look. “Actually it’s not. That’s the SnowDancers out there. Tammy

?”

The healer crossed the room and took Sascha’s arm. “Come on. Lucas won’t be able to concentrate if you’re nearby.” It was an almost inaudible whisper.

Sascha felt the protective fury in him and knew Tamsyn was right. Frustrated but unwilling to endanger him, she followed the other woman out of the living room and to one of the windowless upstairs bedrooms.

They encountered Dorian in the hallway, a sleek presence dressed head to toe in black. He put a finger to his lips and jerked his head for them to keep going. Sascha froze as she felt the lethal anger coming off him, so dangerous it threatened everything and everyone in its path.

Dorian scowled and motioned for her to go. Sascha forced herself to start moving again. The sentinel’s deep anger wasn’t something she could fix, not when he seemed determined to nurture it.

She turned to Tamsyn the second they were behind the solid wooden door of the bedroom. “How can you stand this? Being shut away safe while they might not be?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Tamsyn paused. “I’m not sure. They’re wolves, not cats. Their scent is very different from ours—they might assume you already belong to Lucas.”

For some reason, that made Sascha smile. “How can you talk about belonging to someone so easily? I thought predatory changelings were independent by nature.”

Sascha was caught by the passion in the healer’s voice.

more than an iron fist to rule, and he was starting to lose those other parts.”

Protecting his own was a compulsion with him. It was also something he couldn’t indulge in—it would smother the very people he was trying to shelter from harm.

Tamsyn nodded. “You allow him to think, to see past his emotions.”

Sascha twisted her fingers together. “You think E stands for Emotion, don’t you? I’ve already considered that but it makes no sense. Before Silence, all Psy felt emotion.” Tamsyn didn’t answer her. “The changeling healers around the country have a sort of informal alliance,” she said, in what seemed a complete change of topic. “We share our knowledge in spite of the fact that we might belong to enemy groups. The alphas don’t even try to stop us. They know we’re healers because we can’t be anything else—we refuse to withhold information that could save a life.”

Tamsyn shook her head. “You’re never going to be alone again. You belong to us, to Pack.” Her hand covered Sascha’s. “Don’t be afraid of letting go of the PsyNet. We’ll catch you when you fall.” Sascha desperately wanted to tell her the truth but couldn’t. If any of the leopards found out, they’d never allow her to set her plan in motion and it had to go ahead. If it didn’t, the SnowDancers would declare war. In a war between the most lethal wolf and leopard packs in the country and the Psy, thousands would die, innocents and guilty alike.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Nobody could know the ultimate secret of the PsyNet. It wasn’t only an information net, it was a life net.

No one knew when it had been created, but theories abounded that it had come into existence on its own because Psy minds needed the feedback of other Psy minds.

Deprived of that feedback, they shut down and died. Even comatose Psy retained the PsyNet link, their bodies well aware of the requirement for the connection to ensure survival. The instant Sascha dropped out of the Net, she’d begin to slip into the final darkness.

The woman squeezed her hand. “The reason I told you about the healers alliance is that we pass on a lot of things through word of mouth. One of our oral stories is very interesting—it tells of healers of the mind.

They disappeared from the stories almost a hundred years ago. Interesting timing, don’t you think?” Sascha stared. “Mind healers?”

They had the capacity to neutralize the burden, but it had to have hurt.” Sascha was so stunned, she was trembling. All those times she’d imagined taking away people’s pain, all those times she’d felt the heavy rock of others’ emotions sitting on her heart… none of it had been pretend. “They healed souls,” she whispered, knowing Tamsyn was right.

The explanation fit. No wonder she was fracturing. Her cardinal powers had been brutally contained for twenty-six years, growing endlessly with no release. The pressure point had been reached.

what had to be destroyed.

Hawke stood in the yard flanked by two wolves Lucas knew to be his lieutenants. Indigo was a stunningly beautiful female with the cold eyes of a snow wolf. Tall and slender, she was undoubtedly deadly. Riley was a solid-looking male who appeared to move slow. It was an illusion. He could take down a fully grown wolf in about three seconds flat. Without changing form.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Hawke walked forward, leaving his lieutenants behind. Lucas did the same. Two alphas meeting in neutral territory. Except it wasn’t. This was a DarkRiver safe house. The wolves shouldn’t have set foot near it without a damn good reason. He’d accepted Hawke’s previous intrusion because the alpha had come alone. Bringing others was a sign of aggression.

Lucas felt fury ripple through him. “No.”

Lucas wasn’t surprised Hawke had picked up Mercy’s scent—the man hadn’t become alpha of a lethal pack by being weak. Neither had Lucas. “Mercy’s not the one you should be worried about.”