Hostage to Pleasure

CHAPTER 23

Dorian relaxed as he recognized the approaching tread. “Kit’s coming.”

“Let go.” Ashaya tried to pull away the hands still fisted in her hair.

He liked the feel of her touching him, soft feminine heat and frustration. “Kit,” he called out, not releasing her, “we’ll be down in a sec.”

The juvenile stopped, his hearing good enough to have caught Dorian’s words despite the distance and the closed door. “Oooookay.”

Ashaya tugged at his wrists again. “I need to go check on Keenan.”

He freed her—the terror she’d felt for Keenan continued to echo in her eyes. “What did he do?” he asked as he got off the bed. “What freaked you out so badly?”

She stood up and began to twist her hair into a single braid. “Keenan is highly intelligent. His IQ has been tested in the genius range.” Finishing her braid, she turned back to the bedspread to search for the hair ties.

He leaned against the door and watched her. It was a nice view. “And?”

“And”—she found the hair ties and secured her braid before turning to face him—“it means he likes playing inside his mind. That’s fine, but because of his telepathic gifts, he possesses the ability to go so deep that his brain ‘forgets’ about his physical body. Things stop working—I’m afraid one day, he’ll compromise a critical organ.”

Dorian scowled. “No fail-safes?” Most living organisms had some natural fight reaction.

“No,” she said and glanced away. “No, he wasn’t born with those.”

He tasted the lie, but couldn’t figure out what she could possibly have to hide on the point. “His stay with the Council had to have exacerbated the tendency.” Violence stirred within him at the memory of how he’d found Keenan—the blindfold, the earplugs.

“Yes.” A flat statement that may as well have been a blade, it held such deadly intent. “But we practised building a manual fail-safe each time he came to visit—doing it until it was almost instinctive—and he kept his promise.”

Stubborn kid, Dorian thought, pleased. “Can we trust him to keep his word after this lapse?”

“I think so.” A pause. “I believe he only broke it today because he was scared of being in an unfamiliar environment.”

Dorian gave a short nod, and pulled open the door. Ashaya’s face was perfect in its expressionlessness as she walked through, but he wasn’t going to be fooled again. He could scent the confusion in her—and, hidden in that confusion—a distinct thread of feminine arousal. His leopard clawed at him, desperate to get to her. It felt like knives gouging at him from the inside out. “Let’s get downstairs,” he said, knowing his tone was on the wrong side of feral.

Ashaya began to follow him down. “You’re prone to mood swings.”

Mood swings? He stopped halfway down the steps. “Women have mood swings. Not men.” It was a growl.

“That’s untrue.” She kept walking, completely unaware of the danger of having a pissed-off leopard at her back. “But it’s a misapprehension many people share,” she threw back over her shoulder as she reached the ground floor. “Men are as prone to the chemical imbalances that cause shifts in mood.”

Dorian caught up to her in seconds, but didn’t have time to correct her own “misapprehension” before they reached the kitchen. Tammy and Kit were both sipping coffee inside, and he could hear the sound of cartoons from the living room off to the right. “Twins still at your folks’?”

“Yes.” Putting down her coffee, Tammy shot Ashaya a considering glance. “I apologize if this offends you but we weren’t sure about Keenan. I sent my children to stay with my parents until we could figure out if he was safe to have around the cubs.”

Ashaya didn’t look away from Tammy’s direct gaze. “He’s only dangerous to himself. His telepathy is strong, but nowhere near strong enough to break changeling shields.”

Tammy nodded. “Fine. But I’m going to wait for someone I trust to confirm that. Right now, he hasn’t interacted enough with Sascha for her to make the call.”

“Of course.” Ashaya sounded so cool and collected that if Dorian hadn’t seen her curled around Keenan today, he’d have believed she didn’t care a whit. And he wouldn’t have heard the fury buried beneath the politeness.

Ashaya did not like her son being treated as if he might be a danger to others. Dorian couldn’t blame her. Neither, he knew, would Tammy. Protectiveness in a mother was expected. They’d just never thought to see it in one of the Psy. Not after the way Sascha’s mother, Councilor Nikita Duncan, had cut her off.

“Kit”—Dorian jerked his head toward the lounge—“go make sure Keenan’s okay.”

“He’s fine.” Kit watched Ashaya with barely hidden fascination—he’d clearly picked up too much in that short visit upstairs. Dorian wasn’t surprised. Not only did Kit carry the scent of a future alpha, he was very close to having his rank shift officially from juvenile to adult. “I checked on him a minute ago.”

Dorian didn’t say a word.

“Shit,” the tall, auburn-haired male said and walked out, mumbling “I never get to hear anything interesting” under his breath.

Tammy’s lips curved slightly after he was gone. “He’s turning into a wonderful young man, but sometimes the child shows through.”

“At least he has the excuse of being in his teens,” Ashaya said so primly that it took Dorian a few seconds to realize she was referring to him and his “mood swings.”

His eyes narrowed, but the cat was delighted at what it considered “play.” “Tammy needs to know what you told me about Keenan.”

For a moment, it looked as if she’d refuse. But then she nodded and complied. “If this ever happens again, and I’m out of contact, get one of the Psy in your pack to do a telepathic blast. It’s a very loud noise on the psychic plane. Or”—she paused, glanced at Dorian—“you could shake him awake via whatever network it is that he’s linked into.”

Dorian shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Keenan is no longer in the PsyNet,” she said. “Psy need biofeedback to survive. Which means—since he’s alive and well—that you’ve found an alternate way to feed his mind, just as your pack feeds Sascha’s and Faith’s minds.” Her words were staccato, perfectly enunciated. “You’re lying to me.”

Dorian stepped closer, until they were toe to toe. “So?”

She blinked, as if caught by surprise. “So don’t treat me like an imbecile.”

“Then don’t ask questions to which you haven’t earned an answer.” Ashaya might love her son, but too many questions remained. It was one thing for him to kiss her, quite another to trust her with information that could be used to hurt the pack. Especially when she kept her secrets. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming, Ms. Aleine.”

“Why would I want to share anything with a man who yells at me twenty-three hours of every day, then kisses me?”

A pointed cough had him snapping his head toward Tamsyn. The DarkRiver healer’s face held open interest. He felt his jaw set. “Leave it,” he said, turning on his heel and pulling out his cell phone at the same time. “I’ll call and reschedule Ashaya’s meeting.” He pushed through the back door, heading out into the yard.

Leave it, he’d said to Tammy. But he knew she wouldn’t. Pack was family. But it was also a pain in the ass sometimes. Hell, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening with him and Ashaya. He didn’t need anyone else pointing that out. Nor did he need their censure.

Not when Kylie’s ghost berated him with every breath he took.

I’ve protected a sociopath for most of my life.

Yeah, he knew exactly how big a mess this was.

Ashaya looked across the counter to the tall brunette who’d been taking care of her son. “Thank you for what you’ve done for Keenan.”

“He’s a child,” came the response. “There was no other choice.”

“Even when he might be a child who could hurt your own?”

The woman named Tamsyn walked to the eco-cooler and pulled out a gallon of milk. “I don’t think Keenan would do anything on purpose. Like my cubs would never seek to use their claws and teeth to maul a human playmate. That doesn’t change the fact that they do have those claws and teeth.” Putting the milk on the counter, she went to grab containers of cereal as well as a loaf of bread.

“He has control,” Ashaya argued. “My son has more control than any child his age should have.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” Tamsyn put several bowls and spoons on the counter. “Could you set the table?”

Ashaya did as asked.

“Does he need to have that control?” Tamsyn asked, betraying a knowledge of Silence that didn’t surprise Ashaya, not when DarkRiver was home to two incredibly powerful Psy. Sascha Duncan was rumored to possess an ability that wasn’t in any of the classification charts, while Faith NightStar saw the future itself.

“Not in the sense that his abilities are dangerous,” she said.

“But?” The other woman’s eyes were dark, intent.

“But he needs the control right now.” Ashaya decided to stick to the bare facts. “There are those who would track him.” If Amara got her hands on Keenan—She cut off that line of thought before it could attract the very person she wanted to avoid. “I’m working to ensure his safety, but until then, he has to be very careful how much of himself he reveals on a telepathic level.” Technically, Amara’s telepathy was as weak as Ashaya’s, but Ashaya had learned to never underestimate her twin.

Tamsyn folded her arms. “I accept that. But let me tell you something, Ashaya—I love kids. I won’t stand for his being in pain.”

“Good.”

“You know,” the other woman said, breaking into a sudden smile, “I think you and Tally will get on very, very well.”

Right then, Dorian walked back in. “I’ve rescheduled—had to move the meeting to a central location to accommodate your guest. We have to get going.”

“Give me a minute.” Making her way to the living room, she found Keenan seated quietly in front of Kit, absorbed by the fluid movement of Kit’s hands.

A coin trick, she saw a moment later.

Keenan’s fascination was no surprise—her baby had always been attracted to shiny things. A small flaw, negligible in a child. Only Ashaya had wondered if the predilection arose from the secret he carried within. The shiny things would reflect attention off him, making him invisible. Or perhaps, she thought as she knelt beside him, she was seeing too much into a child’s simple pleasures.

“You’re going,” he guessed, lips trembling for an instant before he bit down, reining in his emotions.

Her heart hurt. One day, she promised silently, one day, he wouldn’t have to hide anything. “But I’ll be back.” It was out before she could censor herself. So she didn’t even try. Raising her hand, she cupped his cheek as she hadn’t dared to do for so many years. “Be good, little man. I return tonight.”

Thin arms wrapped around her neck with surprising strength. “I’ll wait for you… Mommy.”

They were in the car before Ashaya allowed the impact of those words to filter through her. How would it affect Keenan if she didn’t return as she’d promised—tonight or any other night? “Will you look after my son if I don’t make it?”

Dorian’s jaw firmed to a tight line. “The fact you need to ask that tells me how little you know about DarkRiver. And no one’s touching you while I’m around.”

She didn’t know where her next words came from. “You’re the only one allowed to execute me if I prove a traitor?”

His lips twitched. “Yes. So you be good, too.”

Feeling the quicksand shifting under her feet, she took a step back. “You didn’t tell me who this meeting was with.”

He made a sound of disappointment at her retreat. “Kiss me and I’ll talk.”

She knew he was trying to annoy her on purpose. “Do cats take pleasure in being inscrutable?”

“Maybe. How’s the DNA voodoo going?” Amusement, not mockery.

She didn’t blame him for his disbelief—to him, her avowed ability had to stretch the bounds of impossibility. But to her, it made perfect sense, being the extreme end of the M-Psy spectrum. “It’s a slow process. Do you think I could get a control sample from one of your packmates for comparison?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “It’s not like the Psy haven’t got our DNA already.”

“I was never in that field of research.”

“Field?”

“Biological weapons designed specifically to target your populations.”

Dorian’s hands clenched on the manual controls. “We guessed, but no one’s ever been able to confirm.”

“That outbreak of virulent flu in Nova Scotia three years ago? It was meant to be limited to the changelings in the area.” She finally felt as if she was giving DarkRiver something of value in return for the priceless gift they’d given her in protecting Keenan.

Dorian whistled. “It spread—to humans and then the Psy. Damn, I was right.”

“About what?”

“You first.”

Curious, she decided to cooperate. “What the scientists working on these projects don’t seem to accept—and I don’t know if it’s willful blindness, or an inability to see the obvious because of bias—is that despite our racial differences, we are one species. It’s why we can interbreed. Our genes are simply expressed in different forms.”

“You can’t engineer a virus to affect one without affecting the others?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought about Omega,” Dorian said. “It was never about controlling the Psy, but the world.” He glanced at her, smiling in a way that made her stomach feel all tight and hot. “Bet you didn’t think us nonscientist types could figure that out.”

Again, the words came out without thought, born in that cluster of neurons that sparked for him alone. “Bet you didn’t know anything about Omega before my broadcast.”

“You win… this time.” He smiled, but his next question was serious. “Is there any chance that you’re wrong and a completed virus exists?”

Ashaya lied without a pause. “No.” On this one subject, he’d have to earn her utter, unflinching loyalty before she trusted him. And it wasn’t exactly a lie. Because there was no Omega virus. There was something worse.

Dorian didn’t say anything for several minutes. “You’re lying, Shaya.”

Her palms dampened. “Excuse me?”

“Stop freaking out.” Reaching over, he slid his hand behind her nape, tugged her to him, and nipped at her lower lip, startling her into a gasp. “I’ve decided not to kill you, whatever happens.” He released her. “I’ll just keep you in my personal dungeon instead.”

Ashaya swallowed, her wires completely scrambled by the raw hunger of that kiss—and the teasing amusement in his voice.

“Whatever it is you’re hiding,” he said, turning into a busy street in Chinatown, “I’ll figure it out.”

The warning was enough to snap her brain back into action. “There’s nothing to figure out.” People crossed in front of them, paying no heed to the traffic signals. “This area of the city is notoriously chaotic. Why here for the meeting?”

“Because”—he beeped the horn and the wave of humanity parted—“Psy don’t like chaos.” He rolled down the window as they passed and called out a greeting in what she thought might be Cantonese.

It felt like several thousand people responded. But only one lanky boy ran up to them. “Hey, Dorian.” The youngster’s face was bright with mischief, his eyes sparkling obsidian in a face that spoke of eastern shores and California sun all in one fine-boned package. “We had some folk”—his eyes flicked to Ashaya—“come around asking about her. They showed her picture around.”