Hostage to Pleasure (25 page)

Dorian didn’t argue with her decision—kids were the most precious aspect of Pack. But that didn’t mean he was going to forget the teasing threat he’d made outside. The guilt, the anger, none of it was enough to stop him—Ashaya Aleine was going to be his. “I can pack up your stuff, bring it to you.” He could play very nice when he was in the mood.

She gave him a suspicious look. “No. It’s better if Keenan doesn’t come to expect me here all the time. Just in case—”

He kissed her without warning, taking his time with those full,
bitable
lips that drove him crazy. “You’d better start trusting me to keep you safe,” he said against her kiss-wet mouth, “or I don’t know what my bruised ego will make me do.” It came out not as a warning, but as a promise.

He intended to further her education in the care and feeding of the male ego at the apartment, but when they arrived, it was to find Faith waiting at the top of the stairs, fingers plucking at the ends of the green silk scarf she’d used to pull back her hair. Vaughn lounged by the doorway, back against the wall.

Dorian moved smoothly in front of Ashaya. “What are you two doing here?” While Vaughn was a good friend, Dorian’s relationship with Faith was a little more problematic.

“I wanted to talk to you,” the cardinal Psy said, biting her lower lip. “And Ashaya.”

Protectiveness gripped his throat. “This is meant to be a safe location. You could’ve led someone here.”

“Don’t insult me,” Vaughn said, not changing his relaxed stance despite the aggression Dorian knew he was giving off. “We weren’t followed. Even if I had gone senile and lost the ability to spot a tail, I have a mate who’s real good at seeing threats in our future.”

Dorian’s eyes flicked to Faith and he caught the gentle plea in her distinctive night-sky gaze. He and Faith had a silent understanding. F-Psy had stopped forecasting anything but money and economics over a hundred years ago. Perhaps if they hadn’t, Kylie would still be alive. But Faith was doing what her brethren wouldn’t, opening her mind to a future as filled with nightmares as happiness. For that, she’d earned his respect.

He moved up the steps, but continued to keep Ashaya behind him, very aware of her unusual quietness. Vaughn tended to have that effect on those who didn’t know him. The jaguar couldn’t pull off harmless, not like Dorian. Vaughn looked lethal even when he was playing with strands of Faith’s dark red hair, his lips curved in possessive satisfaction.

“I thought the flirting happened before the mating,” Dorian said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He nudged Ashaya through.

“Then I pity your mate,” Vaughn let Faith’s hair slide out of his hands, but tangled his fingers with hers. “I can give you lessons in romance if you’d like.”

Dorian snorted at the same time that Faith gave a disbelieving laugh. “And where have you been learning these lessons?” she asked in an arch tone at odds with her smile.

“From you, Red, who else?” Teasing grin slashing across his face, Vaughn followed Dorian and Faith into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind himself.

Ashaya was already in the kitchenette, heating water. “Coffee would probably be a good idea,” she said, looking not at him but at Faith.

The F-Psy let go of her mate’s hands, stared back. “You know.”

“No.” A quick shake of her head. “But when an F-Psy comes calling, it’s better to be prepared. You’re Faith NightStar, aren’t you?”

As Faith nodded and introduced Vaughn, Dorian wondered if the other couple heard what he did in Ashaya’s voice—a fine thread of suffocating panic. Closing the distance between them, he put a hand on her lower back. “Want some help?” Protective instincts clawed through his veins. It should’ve been an unwelcome shock. It wasn’t. It felt right.

“No.” A stubborn answer, but when she looked up, he saw the truth. She was terrified.

He caught Vaughn’s eye. There was no way to have a private conversation with the other sentinel in the room—his hearing was too acute.

“Mind if we go out onto the balcony?” Vaughn was already opening the French doors that led out to the tiny outdoor area.

Dorian threw him a grateful look, knowing that once the doors were shut, the noise from the streets below would drown out his and Ashaya’s voices. The instant the other couple stepped out, he forced Ashaya to look at him. “Now talk or I’ll have to get mean.”

“You’re always mean.” Despite the words, she came into his arms without any hesitation, displaying a trust that tamed the leopard.

“Hey.” He found he’d curved his body over hers, his lips brushing her temple. “Knowing the future means you can change it.”

“I’ve never feared emotion for its own sake,” she whispered, “only for what it would mean—Amara’s deviance being set completely free, perhaps leading to both our deaths. But today, I’m afraid and I wish I could erase that feeling from my mind.”

He thought of the carnage he’d seen in a small white house, the body he’d held in his arms. “I know.” Because he’d had those same thoughts. “After Kylie was murdered,” he said, tearing open a piece of his heart that he’d protected with feral viciousness, “I was so angry the rage ate me up from the inside out.” His recollection of those days was a foul pit filled with hatred and violence. “But I never wanted to be without emotion. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because if I wiped out emotion, I wiped out Kylie.” His arms clenched around her, the embers of his deep-seated anger stirring anew. He’d torn out Santano Enrique’s heart with his bare hands, but his leopard wasn’t satisfied. So long as even one of those who had allowed Enrique to roam free remained alive, he would hunt. “Our emotions color our memories. Without them, one day would be the same as another . . . and my sister would’ve faded long ago.”

Finally relaxing her hold, Ashaya backed up a little, those amazing eyes holding him in thrall. “You should hear your voice when you speak of her. It hurts my heart and I know that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is. You know love when you hear it.” He’d adored Kylie, had no problem admitting that. “And she lives right here.” He thumped a fist over the pulse of his heartbeat.

“Dorian.” Her hand lifted as if she’d touch him, but then she shook her head and turned. “I need to prepare the coffee.”

He should’ve kept his hands to himself. He wasn’t much good at doing what he should. And he needed a little joy to alleviate the chaos of emotion that always came with thoughts of his murdered sister—maybe someday he’d stop blaming himself for not saving her, but that day wasn’t today.

Putting his hands on Ashaya’s hips, he pulled her back against his chest.

“Dor—”

He kissed the curve of her neck. “Just want to give you a friendly warning.” She tasted so good, he licked at her with quick catlike flicks that made her pulse turn to thunder. When she couldn’t seem to gasp in enough breath to ask him about the warning, he smiled. “I wasn’t kidding about having you in my bed. Get ready to dance with me.” Pressing another kiss to the soft warmth of her, he drew back to his previous position.

It took her a minute to stop staring at his mouth after she turned to face him again. “You’re used to getting your own way.”

“So?”

“So now you look like you want to take a bite out of me.”

He let his eyes close to half-mast, his lips curving into a slow smile. “That’s because I do.” Delighted by the flush that brushed over her cheeks, he decided to indulge himself a little more. “I want to have you flat on your back in my bed. Then I want to spread your thighs, and—”

“Coffee!” She gripped the edge of the counter. “It’ll be ready soon.”

“Oh?” Disappointed, he leaned forward and nipped lightly at her ear. “I’ll tell you where I intend to take that bite out of some other time then.” Leaving her flustered but definitely not scared any longer, he walked to the balcony doors and gave Vaughn the signal to return. There was a momentary rush of noise from outside as the mated pair entered.

A few minutes later, Ashaya put the coffee on the low table in the center of the room and took a seat on the sofa that faced the balcony, while he leaned on its back. Faith took a seat on the opposite sofa, with Vaughn sprawled beside her.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” Faith asked when Ashaya didn’t pour herself any coffee.

Ashaya shook her head. “I’m not used to it and it tends to have a strong effect.”

“I understand.” Faith took two cups, passing one to her mate. “I’ve become addicted to the stuff but it’s far more potent than I initially realized.” Her words were friendly, but there was a jerkiness to her movements that gave away her unease.

“Whatever it is you’ve seen,” Ashaya said, her tone a fraction too calm, as if she was barely keeping herself together, “just tell me. I’d rather know than imagine.”

Faith’s hands shook as she put her near-full cup on the table. Vaughn, holding his in his left hand, curved his right arm around her waist. “I had a vision,” she began, “but it was one of those where it’s impossible to tell when the event might take place . . . or whether it might already have done so.”

“Backsight,” Ashaya said. “Someone in my extended family tree was born with a low-Gradient ability in that specialty.”

Dorian stared at the back of her neck, itching to touch her again, finish what he’d started in the kitchen. It went against every one of his instincts to fight the urge, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not when she was trying to present such an unruffled facade. She was so damn good at it, it annoyed the leopard. The trapped creature inside of him didn’t like being ignored.

That was when Ashaya turned to meet his gaze. “Did you say something?”

Well, now, that was interesting.
“No.”

Giving him a skeptical look, she returned her attention to Faith. “What did you see in this vision, or flash of backsight?”

“Ashaya, I’m going to be honest with you,” Faith said, and there was a steel to her tone that Dorian knew often surprised people. “From what you’ve done, what you’ve said, you appear to be a rebel. But people lie.”

“True.” Ashaya nodded. “I’m also still linked to the PsyNet. You shouldn’t tell me anything you wouldn’t want the Council to know.”

“Pretty certain they’ll get you.” Vaughn took a sip of coffee.

Ashaya shifted the tiniest fraction of an inch toward Dorian. “I’m an M-Psy,” she said. “No matter my classification on the Gradient, it’s primarily a nonaggressive ability.”

“Yes,” Faith agreed, then paused for several seconds. “As for secrets, someone on the Council most probably already knows, so even if anything leaks out . . .” An eloquent shrug. “How much do you know about the NetMind?”

“It keeps order in the Net,” Ashaya answered. “Makes it less chaotic, organizes things. Some people say it spies for the Council, while others think that’s anthropomorphizing. Everyone agrees it’s neosentient at best, and its age is a complete mystery.”

“It’s not alone,” Faith told Ashaya. “When Silence took root, it split the NetMind into two. One part is good, able to act with sentience. The other part, the entity I call the DarkMind, is made up of all the emotions the Silent have rejected, particularly the violent ones.”

“Because,” Ashaya murmured, “the violent, angry emotions are ones we’re conditioned most strongly against.”

Faith nodded. “When I defected, I was hunting a killer. He was tainted with a malignant darkness. That darkness is a marker of the DarkMind’s psychic control—it uses these already mentally unstable individuals to give itself a voice. It’s not only feeding off their evil, it’s effectively nurturing the worst serial killers on the planet.”

Ashaya didn’t seem shocked by Faith’s revelation. “Silence cuts us off from a fundamental aspect of our psyche. It makes complete sense that that would be echoed on the psychic plane.” Her back suddenly went ramrod straight. “My twin,” she said to Faith. “You saw the darkness wrapped around my twin.”

“I don’t know how I knew it wasn’t you,” Faith said, “but it’s like that sometimes in a vision—I just know things. And this time, I knew that the woman I was watching wasn’t Ashaya Aleine.” A pause. “She was doing terrible things . . . killing, torture, blood.”

Vaughn put down his coffee and moved to press a kiss to Faith’s temple. The F-Psy leaned into his hold but her eyes stayed on Ashaya. “Was it backsight?”

Ashaya didn’t hesitate. “No. She’s never murdered, never spilled blood.”

“Are you certain?” Vaughn’s question was a challenge.

Dorian didn’t tell the other sentinel to back off. He didn’t need to. The cat growled in silent pride as Ashaya met Vaughn’s eyes. “Yes,” she said, “I’m sure. I’m connected to my twin on a level beyond the PsyNet. The second, the
instant
, Amara became a killer, the knowledge would bleed into my mind. She hasn’t crossed that line.”

“I believe you,” Faith said softly. “But she will if you don’t change the future.”

“Perhaps my defection is the thing that pushes her over the edge.” Ashaya’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve always known that the more unstable my own emotional state, the worse her episodes.”

Dorian wanted to haul her to him and order her to stop hurting. Gritting his teeth, he glanced at Vaughn. “That it?”

“Yeah.” The other sentinel put down his coffee and stood, tugging Faith up with him.

“Wait,” Faith said, eyes locked with Ashaya’s. “Was I right about your sister? Is she . . . ?”

“Disturbed?” Ashaya supplied. “Yes. Smarter than most people on the planet, but broken in some fundamental way.”

“I understand.” Faith’s eyes held the knowledge that, in the PsyNet, all F-Psy eventually ended up clinically insane. “There was something else—there’s no way to prove this, but maybe your twinship is the
reason
you and your sister are so different.”

Dorian understood before Ashaya. “A direct reflection of the twinning in the PsyNet, one good, one bad?”