Slave to Sensation (34 page)

“It is real. It's just not their hideout.” Circling around the house, he stopped the car. “Stay inside until I'm beside you.”

For once, she didn't argue. “This is your world, Lucas. I'm a novice.”

He cupped her cheek in a fleeting caress before exiting the car and walking around to her door. No wolf would take him in the back. In the same way, Dorian would never shoot at an unarmed wolf from his position in the canopy. They were animals but both packs had a kind of honor most of the Psy would never understand. If it came to a fight, it would be face-to-face, hands against hands, claws against claws, not a sniper's bullet.

Still, he wasn't going to take chances with his mate's life. He scented the air to ensure Vaughn and Clay were with him. As he'd expected, their scents had been joined by those of several wolves. None were venturing too close. Good. He pulled open Sascha's door and she stepped out.

He shut the door. “Stay behind me.” Already, he was placing his body in front of hers.

“I can feel five emotional signatures I don't know,” she whispered, real soft.

His brows raised. “I didn't know you could do that.”

“I've been practicing.” She sounded almost proud of herself, as though she was getting past the fear that she was “flawed.” “Vaughn and Clay are circling us, one in front, one behind.”

“Let's go.” He started to walk into the forest, which appeared to go on endlessly, the dark green firs so close together they blotted out the sun. They walked for five minutes before he found the rutted path half-hidden by carefully strewn forest debris.

“Usually,” he told Sascha, “if you got this far, there'd be a welcoming committee awaiting you. Nobody's ever found a single bone of the missing.” The predator in him appreciated the efficiency.

“Do you think they eat them?”

He grinned at her gory attempt at a joke. “Nah. Even wolves have higher standards than to feed on human carrion.”

Her hand rose to his shoulder. Something taut in him relaxed. His mate was starting to trust him on a level so deep she was completely unaware of it.

Thirty minutes later, they finally reached the end of the winding path, only to find themselves up against the craggy stone face of a mountain that seemed to reach for the sky. It looked like the path simply stopped, an illusion that had protected the SnowDancers for years.

“Open up, Hawke.” He allowed his voice to carry. Leopards and wolves were their solitary audience.

A few seconds later, the bottom of the mountain magically started to crack open. The “door” slid back just far enough to allow them to enter. Lucas could feel Sascha's fascination at the structure but waited until they were inside to speak. The door closed behind them without any hint that it had ever been open.

Sascha's gasp echoed off the stone walls as lights came on all around them, illuminating a long tunnel beautifully paved with river stones. Paintings graced every surface, the artist having used the rock of the tunnel as a canvas. The scenes were of the wild, of wolves running, of the different faces of the forest. There was something hypnotically beautiful about the images. Beautiful and dangerous.

“Welcome.” Hawke stepped out of the shadows and raised a brow. “Should I let your sentinels in?”

“No need.” Lucas smiled. Vaughn and Clay were already inside. Dorian was to remain on the outside.

Hawke's eyes betrayed nothing but Lucas knew the other alpha was pissed that his people had managed to get inside . . . again. “Care to share?”

“Everyone needs secrets. Don't tell me you can't get into our safe houses.”

Hawke scowled. “What about mutual trust?”

Sascha laughed and both men turned to look at her, their beasts fascinated by the purity of the sound. It was, Lucas realized, the first time he'd ever heard her laugh. The possessive need in him tightened to the most aching kind of tenderness. She meant more to him than she'd ever know. If she died, so would his heart.

“You're like two wild animals who aren't quite sure you believe the other's offer of peace. I wonder how long you'll circle around each other before you decide.” She shook her head, those eerie eyes sparkling with feminine amusement. At that moment she was everything the beast in him craved, woman and passion, laughter and play, sensuality and hunger.

Lucas felt Hawke take a deep breath. When he looked back at the wolf, he read a simple message on his face: If she weren't yours . . .

“But she is,” Lucas said, one predator to another, one alpha to another.

Sascha, who was staring at one of the paintings, didn't hear. “These are lovely, Hawke.” She turned to him. “Is the artist one of your pack?”

Hawke's face seemed to harden till it was as unfeeling as the rock upon which the paint had been laid. “She was.” He jerked his head behind him. “Let's go.”

Troubled eyes met Lucas's when he went to take Sascha's hand. He shook his head—he knew nothing of the artist.

“They live underground?” Sascha asked after they'd been walking for five minutes, going steadily deeper.

“Some of them. This functions as their Pack headquarters.” Before the SnowDancers had become as feared as they now were, group after group had tried to find the hideout in order to take them down. They'd all failed. Until DarkRiver. Lucas and his sentinels had not only found the den, they'd infiltrated it. Their sole purpose had been to leave behind a simple message.

A day later, a response had been found in Lucas's lair.

Sometimes it was good being an animal. In the world of the Psy and even in the human world, such negotiations could've taken months. In the years following that initial contact, they'd started to edge warily toward a more workable relationship. But that simple rule remained—don't hurt us and we won't hurt you.

Hawke turned right ahead of them.

“What's on the left?” Sascha asked, looking down that corridor.

“Homes.” When they'd first breached the tunnels, DarkRiver had ensured the SnowDancers knew that they'd been near the homes of their pups and had left without doing harm. There was no clearer indication of friendship.

A few minutes later, they came to another fork. The corridors went off in several different directions. Ahead, they could see rooms opening up and people walking about. Hawke took them through the rightmost corridor and stopped in front of a closed door.

Beside him, Lucas felt Sascha's whole body go quiet. “Hawke,” she said, an odd note in her voice. “What can I feel behind that door?”

Those icy eyes met theirs. “You'll see.” Pushing open the door, he walked in.

Lucas went in ahead of Sascha, every one of his senses primed for trouble. Vaughn and Clay were already nearby, having taken human form and put on stolen clothing to throw the wolves off their scent. It would be hard getting out if something happened. Hard, but not impossible. Otherwise Lucas would've never brought his mate here.

However, what awaited them in the room wasn't anything he could've prepared for. Five people of varying ages sat around a large circular table. They didn't smell like wolf. Then one of them raised her head and night-sky eyes met his. “Christ!” He let Sascha enter but left the door open.

Sascha knew who the five people were the instant she saw them—Nikita had told her the details of the case. “The Lauren family,” she whispered. She'd never known the ages of the five Psy who'd disappeared into SnowDancer territory, had never expected any of them to be children, because even after everything she'd learned, she hadn't been ready to admit that her own people would so callously turn their backs on the most innocent of the innocent.

The oldest two were males, one dark blond, the other with hair the color of rich chocolate. Both had human eyes. The fair-haired male looked to be around forty, but the other was nearer Sascha's age. Then there was a teenage girl with deep red hair and the eyes of a cardinal Psy. She sat protectively next to a young boy who had the same hair and the same eyes. Last, a girl of about ten sat between the two older males. She had strawberry blonde hair and the feel of a powerful Psy. Her eyes were a pale green.

“How?” How had they survived being cut off from the Net? How had they survived at all?

“We're not cold-blooded murderers, Sascha.” Hawke's voice was ice. “Not like the Psy.” He sat down and Sascha let Lucas nudge her into a seat, too.

The teenager's head shot up and Sascha swore she felt a spike of temper. “You're making generalizations again. That's the same as saying all wolves are vicious.”

Instead of getting angry, Hawke seemed to relax a fraction. “Sascha Duncan, meet Sienna Lauren. Next to her is her brother, Toby.” He gestured to the two older males.

The blond one stood, his bearing as erect as a soldier's. “I'm Walker Lauren. Sienna and Toby are the children of my deceased sister. This is my daughter, Marlee.” He nodded to the girl who sat beside him. A small hand slipped into his and his fingers curled around it.

“I'm Judd Lauren,” the dark-haired man said after Walker sat down. “Walker's brother.”

“I don't understand.” Sascha could barely think through the riot of questions in her mind. “You're listed as dead on the Net.” And the NetMind did not make mistakes.

“As far as the Net is concerned, we are,” Walker answered.

In spite of the way he'd accepted Marlee's touch, she could feel nothing from him. Nothing. The same with Judd Lauren. The youngest two, Marlee and Toby, were definitely giving off emotion but Sienna was harder to read. “Are you all E-Psy?”

Sienna shook her head. “What's an E-Psy?”

Walker threw her a sharp look. “Sienna.”

The teenager sat back, her mouth shut. Sascha knew that the two males had to be worried that Sascha would betray them, linked as she was to the Net.

“Why did you come into SnowDancer territory? You had to know it was courting death.”

Walker and Judd glanced at each other and when Walker spoke, she knew he spoke for all of them. “We defected.”

Her shock had her reaching for Lucas's hand, clasping it tight as it sat on the table. “What?”

“The entire family was slated for rehabilitation after our sister committed suicide.” Walker's calm tone gave away nothing but Sascha could feel pain and anguish coming off Marlee and Toby.

Instinctively, she did what she could to soothe them. Sienna's eyes widened. “What are you doing, Sascha?”

Walker and Judd froze, looking at Sascha as one would eye a poisonous snake. Judd turned to Hawke. “You promised us she was safe.” The words were razor sharp.

“She is.” The pale eyes of a wolf met Sascha's. “Tell them what you were doing, sweetheart.”

Lucas bristled. “Watch it, wolf.”

Hawke's smile was slow and very satisfied. Next to him, Sienna sat up absolutely straight in her chair, looking from the two alphas back to Sascha.

“I'm sorry,” Sascha apologized, ignoring the byplay between the males. “My control over my powers is still a little erratic. I'm an E-Psy, an empath.”

Walker leaned forward. “There's no such thing as an E designation.”

“There used to be before Silence,” she told him. “E-Psy are healers of the mind. We're supposed to help people who are drowning under the weight of emotion, but I guess our existence was a roadblock to the implementation of the Protocol.” So they'd been quietly destroyed. Despite everything she knew about her race, that admission of ultimate betrayal felt like a knife cut to the soul.

“I think we need to talk,” Walker said.

“Yes.” She felt Lucas's beast awaken, his possessive instincts disliking the idea of her alone with the other male. “I think we
all
need to talk more.”

Walker took the hint. “Of course.”

She thought back to what they'd been speaking about. “Why was the whole family sentenced to the Center?” She looked at the innocent faces of the children and wondered what kind of a cruel mind could deprive them of their personalities before they'd even had a chance to develop. She wasn't naïve enough to think that the Lauren children had been the first to be so condemned, but nothing she'd seen thus far had prepared her for this new horror.

“My mother took her life in a most unusual fashion for a Psy—a cardinal Psy,” Sienna said, ignoring Walker's look. “She stripped herself naked and teleported off Golden Gate Bridge, screaming that she was finally free.”

Sascha looked into
the young cardinal's eyes and wanted to tell her to let the anger and pain out. Damming it up behind a wall of silence would only equal a slow death. She'd learned that the hard way.

“We'd also had several . . . incidents in the past. The Council decided they needed to ‘purge' our family tree of undesirable traits.” Judd's eyes went to Marlee. “Nonbiological members of the family were given the choice to renounce any relationship or undergo rehabilitation.”

Sascha read between the lines and what she heard was so heartbreaking she couldn't speak. Marlee's biological mother had forsaken her child, handed her over for torture. The staggering nature of the betrayal was something no one with a human or changeling heart would ever understand. And Sascha's heart was no longer Psy, if it had ever been.

“How can you be alive?” Lucas raised her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. She knew it wasn't a territorial marking—it was simply a changeling gesture of affection for a mate, something he hadn't even thought about. But all the Psy in the room noticed. And wondered. “According to Sascha, once you're cut off from the Net, you lose the feedback needed to function.”