Visions of Heat (18 page)

“Don’t worry about offending me, Faith. I want to know what you’d do.”

“I’d give the masses an answer. A concrete answer. Nothing stops conjecture as quickly as an irrefutable truth.” But what she’d glimpsed in the Net had held murmurs of a deeper dissatisfaction. The Council had already lost ground, important ground. No matter what they said now, some people would remain unconvinced.

Shoshanna stopped and Faith realized they’d circled back to their original meeting spot. “Your view is one I happen to share. Perhaps we can further discuss the subject in the future.”

Recognizing the dismissal, Faith nodded. “I look forward to it, Councilor.” Then she turned her back on the woman who’d one day have her blood on her hands and returned to her home with unhurried steps. Good thing Shoshanna wasn’t a cat like Vaughn or the erratic beat of her heart might have given her away.

However, one good thing had come out of this encounter—she could lie to her father with a straight face and request privacy for “reasons previously discussed.” She did exactly that upon entering the house.

“Have you been contacted?” Anthony asked.

“In a sense,” she hedged, beginning to accept that her original lie had never been anything that simple. “I don’t believe it’s wise to talk of this on the general communications network.”

“Of course. Let’s meet.”

That was the last thing she wanted. “Not yet, Father. Arousing any suspicion at this stage could be detrimental.” To her health, certainly. She’d heard of the kinds of things aspirants did to get rid of the competition.

Anthony nodded. “Keep me updated. Next time, use the PsyNet.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

That night,
the darkness didn’t come. But neither did Vaughn. The rational part of Faith told her to use the respite from his constant assault on her Psy shields to tighten and bolster those lines of conditioning at risk of total failure. But that rational part stood no chance against her memories of the night before—bone-crushing terror and the dangerous safety of a jaguar’s touch.

The truth was, she’d expected him to be here after the intensity of the previous night, had come to rely on his physical presence—she, a woman used to no one else in her space. And now he wasn’t here. Not that it mattered. She was Psy, she told herself as she kicked off her blanket and punched her inexplicably uncomfortable pillow into better shape. She didn’t feel anything. Certainly not disappointment and anger.

Having used up
all his self-control the night before, Vaughn was waiting for Faith and he wasn’t doing it patiently. Though he was in human form, he’d taken to the trees, crouching above the fence to keep a lookout. Her feminine form should’ve appeared by now.

Five more minutes dragged by. He was considering going in after her when he finally spotted her in the pitch black of the cloud-heavy night. She climbed the fence as easily as she’d done that first time and was nearing his position mere seconds later. He decided to let her go in a little farther before jumping down, so she wouldn’t be startled into a scream.

Reaching him, she stopped and looked straight up into the branches. “Vaughn? I hope that’s you.”

The cat was annoyed she’d discovered him. The man wanted to know why. “Don’t make any woman sounds.”

Her eyes were cutting as he dropped down to face her, feet bare but everything else covered in jeans and a T-shirt. “I’m hardly likely to do that after taking so much trouble to get here without alerting anyone.” Pure, haughty female.

He wanted to bite her. Hard enough to mark. To claim. “How did you know I was up there?”

“I could sense you. It must indicate a previously dormant aspect of my abilities.”

“What about other changelings?”

“I don’t know. I can’t sense anyone else—is there anyone else here?”

He smiled, aware it would make her want to spit. “You know I can’t tell you that.” Matter of fact, Clay was very close, having come to take over this section of Vaughn’s watch. They’d traded off half an hour ago, but the leopard had stuck around to ensure Faith and Vaughn made it out safely. Something feral in Vaughn calmed at Faith’s inability to feel the other sentinel. “Never know what you might use the information for.”

“What do you want me to do?” she demanded, her tone cold enough to burn. “Write my loyalty in blood?”

“Temper, temper.”

“I don’t have a temper. Are you planning on standing there all night? I don’t have time to waste.” Turning, she started stomping her way through the forest.

Vaughn whistled under his breath to signal Clay that everything was okay. A low growl traveled back to him and, to his surprise, it held the faintest tinge of laughter. “Watch it, cat,” he muttered, too low for anyone but a changeling to hear. “I’m the only one allowed to be amused by Faith.”

Another growl, this one closer, and then silence. Clay was doing his job now. Usually it was the soldiers who patrolled the edges of DarkRiver’s considerable home range, with the sentinels concentrating on the alpha pair’s defense grid. However, it had been decided that this area needed to be under closer surveillance. Even if Faith proved entirely trustworthy, she wasn’t a soldier or a sentinel and could unknowingly lead the enemy to their door.

Vaughn smiled again at the thought of his Psy, a Psy who was mad as hell but unwilling to admit it. It was clear that her conditioned responses had begun to collapse one by one. He was damn glad. Neither half of him particularly liked spending nights aroused with no relief in sight. He was impatient and more than willing to push her down the right path. The cat saw no reason to play fair when it was obvious she wanted a long, slow taste of him, too.

Catching up, he walked a little behind her, just far enough away to admire the sway of her hips. She was shaped exactly right—though short, she wasn’t too thin, her body having more than enough curves to satisfy and tempt. He wanted to watch that pert bottom moving on him. Given their height difference, the best position to enjoy that view would be with him seated and her taking him in, back to his chest. A groan threatened to erupt from his throat.

Faith looked over her shoulder. “Stop it.”

“What?” He wondered if her skin was that creamy gold all over, lusciously lickable. Bitable.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“The question is, how do you?”

“I’m Psy.”

“You’re an F-Psy, not a telepath.”

Her eyes narrowed and he knew she wasn’t aware of the giveaway gesture. And while he gloried in it, he’d have to warn her about it before she returned to that prison she called a home. “I’m a woman. We’re born with those sensors. So stop it.”

“Why?”

“Why?” She gave him an arrogant Psy look. “How would you like it if I thought of you as you’re thinking of me and my body?”

He grinned. “You know how I’d like it.” Something in her comment made him pause. “Are you saying you can actually see what I see?”

Her cheeks shaded to a dull red and he watched, delighted. The physical conditioning was starting to erode on a far deeper level than he could’ve hoped for—Psy did not blush. “Yes. I don’t know why when I can’t read anything else off you. None of my blocks seem to be working. So restrain yourself.”

He pondered that as he took the lead and brought her to the car. The new blindfold was sitting on the passenger seat—a strip of black silk he’d purchased specially for her. Spine stiff enough to snap, Faith put her things in the backseat before lifting it up. “Make it quick.”

He laid the strip against her eyes and moved until his chest pressed against the provocation of her breasts. “I like it slow.” He deliberately imagined what it would be like to sexually tease her while she was blindfolded. “At my mercy.”

“I told you, I’m not as powerless as you think.” They were fighting words, but her voice was husky. Despite her insistence that she was Psy, Faith was no longer fully bound by Silence. That was going to mean trouble. But right now, Vaughn was concerned about pleasure.

“Illusions don’t scare me, baby.” Taking his time to tie the knot, he let his mind fill with images of her blindfolded and naked, hands braced on the headboard of his bed and legs parted to keep her balance. And then he imagined how he’d stroke that creamy skin, how he’d run his tongue all over, how he’d sink his fingers in the lush flesh of her bottom and hold her in place as he took her.

Electricity zapped his fingers where they touched her skin. “Son of a bitch!” He jerked away with a snarl. “That hurt.” But the sharp shock of pain was even now receding from his fingertips.

“You should listen to me next time.” Faith slid inside the car without hesitation and pulled the door shut.

Vaughn wondered if he should tell her that what she’d done made her more, not less, attractive to him. Jaguars liked their women tough. Smiling, he rubbed his fingers against his jeans and walked around to take the driver’s seat.

Faith said nothing until he’d started up the car. “Did I really hurt you? I’ve never used the ability against a living being before.”

His Psy, the one who didn’t feel, was experiencing tinges of remorse. “If you did, I deserved it.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Doesn’t mean I’ll stop, but I’ll be a bit more careful about how I tie you up.”

“I should’ve shocked you harder.” She folded her arms across her chest.

He began driving. “Sascha never mentioned that kind of talent. Does it fall under a separate designation?”

“Why should I tell you? You don’t tell me your secrets.”

“You’re hooked up to the Net.” An absolute fact. “Anything I tell you could be leaked and you might not even know you were doing it.”

“You’re right.” Her voice had gone very soft. “I’m under constant surveillance and yesterday . . .”

“Yesterday? What happened yesterday?”

He almost heard her mouth snap shut. “I’m not your spy, Vaughn. Get someone else if you want a puppet.” The statement was devoid of any emotion that might have made him excuse it, an unwelcome reminder that the woman beside him was a cardinal Psy. One of the enemy.

“You came to us,” he grit out. “You came to us because you couldn’t trust anyone in your precious world—they would’ve hung you out to dry. DarkRiver is not a charity for lost Psy.” Fur ruffled the wrong way by her words, he accelerated down the road. “Asking you to give us something in return for our help is good business. You understand business, don’t you?”

The second the words were out, he knew he should’ve kept a lid on his temper. He rarely lost it, but when he did, he tended to be brutal. Faith’s hurt was all the more painful for being hidden under the brittle armor of Psy Silence, but he could feel it, feel it in the heart of his maleness. “I’m sorry, Red. That was uncalled for.”

“Why? You only stated the truth.” Her voice was so cold, Vaughn expected to see icicles forming in the air.

Something in him relaxed. He didn’t mind Faith’s anger—it was the emotionless mask he hated. “Yeah, but that’s not why I said it.”

“I don’t understand.” No hint of curiosity, pure Psy calm.

“I said it because you pissed me off.” He turned down a leafy lane and glanced over at her sitting so motionless beside him. “We’re not above collecting the information you give us—we’d be stupid not to gather as much as possible while you remain in the Net—but we aren’t doing it behind your back, so don’t accuse us of that.”

Faith didn’t know how to respond. For twenty-four years, she’d lived in a world that operated on a very different set of principles. Nothing was ever said so bluntly and without any hint of subterfuge. Shoshanna Scott’s visit was a vivid example—the Councilor had been all allusions and hints, never quite coming out and saying what it was that she wanted from Faith, though Faith had a very good idea. What she didn’t understand was why.

It was almost a compulsion for her to talk about it with Vaughn, but she couldn’t. Not yet. If she gave away the Council to the cats, notwithstanding her lack of any definitive knowledge, then she was in a sense giving away her loyalty to the Psy race. And they were
her
race. They understood what she was, what she could do, and the price that she paid. She was respected, more than respected. If Shoshanna’s visit was any indication, she might climb even higher, the highest of any in her PsyClan.

If she did as Vaughn wanted and successfully dropped out of the Net, what would she be? Nothing. A broken Psy without race or family. She’d done enough reading to know that her inborn talent wasn’t always respected in the human-changeling world. Many scoffed at the idea of foresight. There were some who went so far as to call her entire designation a fraud.

Of course, none of that would mean anything if her abilities continued to spiral into chaos. She had to find a way to exert control over the dark visions, even if she couldn’t block them. Vaughn’s fingers whispered over her cheek. She was unable to stop her reflexive movement. “Yes?”

“We’re here.”

As she removed the blindfold, the lingering sensation of his touch threatened to smudge the strength of her recent decision to regain mastery over her own body and mind. She knew it was hazardous to feel anything, that emotions could drive her over the edge, but that did nothing to diminish the temptation to engage with Vaughn on all levels—physical, mental, and emotional. Because she knew that if she succeeded in leashing the dark side of her ability and returned to her normal existence, she’d live the rest of her life without a jaguar who liked to tease in the most sensual of ways, who pushed her to face her fears, and who, quite simply, made her feel alive.

Leaving the blindfold on the dash, she stepped out and closed the door. Vaughn was already on the lighted porch, speaking to Sascha. Faith couldn’t see Lucas, but assumed he was nearby—the alpha had appeared extremely protective of his mate. It made her speculate whether the Council had done more than put a simple prohibition over Sascha Duncan.