Hostage to Pleasure

CHAPTER 24

“Human?” Dorian asked, recalling the Rats’ tip about humans asking after Ashaya.

“No. Like her.”

“They get anything?”

The boy looked insulted. “Hell, no.”

“Watch the language, Jimmy. I know your mother.”

The teenager rolled his eyes. “They asked about your sexy girlfriend”—a mischievous grin—“but it’s amazing how many people are shortsighted around here. Man, it’s like an epidemic or something.”

“Maybe we should hire an optometrist,” Dorian said dryly.

“If you do, tell the doc the shortsightedness comes on without warning, and seems to affect dozens of people at a time.” Grinning, Jimmy glanced down the street. “Some traffic coming up. Anyway, we’ll let you know if they come back.” He slipped away, merging expertly into the energetic bustle of Chinatown.

Dorian rolled up his window and continued through the intersection. “No surprise they’re hunting you.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. A betraying gesture if he hadn’t already known her Silence for a sham. “You didn’t pay the boy for his information,” she said. “Isn’t that how it works?”

“Not here.” He turned down a narrow street lined with tea merchants on either side. “We’re part of Chinatown. We take care of them, they take of us.”

“They can’t be bought?”

“The relationship’s had over a decade to mature—the people round here know they can count on us when the shit hits the fan. We’ve busted heads for them, tracked down missing children, dragged others back to face judgment.” He shrugged. “So no, they can’t be bought. We’re family.”

“But only Pack is family for you.”

He reached over and ran his knuckles down the curve of her neck. A fleeting touch, but it took the edge off the escalating depth of his need. “Pack is family,” he said, knowing it was no longer a question of if, but when he’d have Ashaya in his bed. “But we can widen the net if we choose. And we stand by those who stand by us.

“Plus, some of them are Pack.” Dorian had first met Ria on these streets. Fully human, the vivacious brunette was now Lucas’s personal assistant and mated to a DarkRiver leopard. But the night Dorian had first seen her, she’d been crawling backward on her hands and feet in a dark alleyway, face bloodied and shirt ripped.

Her parents had fallen foul of some would-be shakedown artist and he’d decided to use her to teach them a lesson. A few years older at the time than Kit was now, Dorian had taken one look, picked the creep up, and thrown him against the nearest wall. It happened to be old-fashioned brick. The bastard had had twenty broken bones when they peeled him off the ground. “Who do you stand by, Shaya?”

The answer was unexpected. “Keenan, Amara, and a handful of others.”

“Good answer,” he said, conscious of the leopard padding restlessly around the cage of his body. The hunger to shift, to release the other half of his soul, was a familiar ache—the leopard had never truly understood that it couldn’t get out.

Thankfully, Ashaya spoke then. “Was it a test?” The blue ice and wild honey of her voice wrapped around the cat, soothing it into settling down.

“Don’t worry. You passed.” He shot her a grim look. “The Council didn’t have to resort to medical torture to hold you—you would’ve done it for the love of Keenan.”

“Yes. But they don’t comprehend love.”

He turned the car into the wide-open goods entrance of an empty warehouse. Behind them, the door rolled down. He knew that within two minutes, the street outside would be covered with market stalls selling anything from fresh produce to touristy shtick.

One time Aaron had lost his mind and put up a stall selling those yapping dog robots that drove Dorian insane. The younger male hadn’t made that mistake again. And he’d become damn smooth at his job. No one saw a twenty-one-year-old DarkRiver soldier when they saw Aaron. They saw a slender Asian teenager with a bright smile who drove a hard bargain. That reminded Dorian—he needed to talk to Lucas about Aaron. It was time to move him up the security hierarchy.

“Zie Zen,” Ashaya said, staring through the windshield to the man who sat in a chair in the middle of the warehouse, his hand on a cane.

There were several DarkRiver men and women in the warehouse, but no one disturbed his solitude. Zie Zen’s face was sharp, lined with age but not fragile. Instead, there was a honed strength in it. Dorian found himself judging the other man and finding him a worthy opponent. But he was far too old. “You chose him as the father of your child? Why?”

Ashaya stopped with her hand on the door handle. “It’s not sexual in the way of changelings. Zie Zen had the best genes.”

“Wait,” he said when she would’ve exited. “According to our sources, he’s a powerful man—why did he let them take Keenan?”

Her hand tightened on the handle. “Zie Zen has other biological children—going up against a Council order mandating ‘specialized instruction’ for a single child, a child without any exceptional psychic abilities, and one for whom he isn’t the custodial parent, would’ve rung serious alarm bells.”

“Let me guess—a true Psy would simply write that child off as a bad investment?”

A nod. “However, his position meant the Councilors treaded softly—they didn’t want to make an enemy out of him when they could keep things trouble-free by allowing him his rights under the co-parenting agreement, and acceding to his request that I continue to train Keenan.”

“But if he’d pushed for much more,” Dorian said, seeing the tightrope they’d walked, “the Council might’ve become suspicious enough to investigate, and discovered his rebel activities.” Leaving Keenan utterly vulnerable.

“Yes.” With that Ashaya got out and began to walk toward the man who, in changeling society, would have been her mate.

Dorian didn’t like it. Gritting his teeth, he slid his own door up and reached her just as she got to the rigid figure of Zie Zen.

“What are you doing here?” Ashaya asked, not touching him, not making any contact at all.

Zie Zen put weight on his cane and stood. “I have information for you.” He glanced at Dorian. “Confidential information.”

“Wait.” Dorian called out to the others, clearing the warehouse. When he turned back, Zie Zen looked at him questioningly. “I stay.”

The Psy male held his gaze for several long moments, then nodded. “Your shields are very strong.”

Dorian wondered if the old man was trying to make him angry by implying that he’d attempted some form of mental persuasion. Psy were more than adept at exploiting the “weakness” of emotion against the other races. Instead of getting angry, Dorian folded his arms and shrugged. “Lucky for me. Now talk. We don’t have much time. This place is clear for the moment, but that won’t last.” Chinatown was a safer meeting spot than pretty much any other part of town, but, as the SnowDancers had recently discovered, spies were everywhere, even where you least expected.

Ashaya shot him a quelling glance. “Treat Zie Zen with respect. He is as much a warrior for my people as you are for yours.”

It was a slap down—delivered in a very prissy ladylike voice—but a slap down nonetheless. Dorian’s cat liked the show of feminine strength. “Respect is earned.” But he toned down his aggressiveness.

The old man looked from him to Ashaya, appearing to see more than he should. But when he spoke, it was all business. “You’ve made yourself the number one priority for the Council. They’ll attempt to capture you first. If that fails, the death squads will be set loose.”

Dorian felt his leopard flex its claws. “How good’s your information?”

Zie Zen looked to him. “I was told we have a mutual acquaintance. He can’t risk contact with DarkRiver at present, even that which appears for business alone.”

Anthony Kyriakus.

“Then your information is good.” He was aware of Ashaya looking from him to Zie Zen, and, though her expression didn’t change, he could tell she was irritated. Ms. Aleine, he thought with an inward grin, didn’t like being left out of the loop.

“Ashaya.” Zie Zen’s attention shifted. “We had a plan in place to extract Keenan.”

“Not fast enough.” Ashaya’s jaw set. “Any more waiting and he would’ve been permanently damaged by the circumstances of his confinement. They were hurting him.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about Keenan’s welfare, but you took another step we weren’t prepared for.” Censure, delivered in cool Psy tones, but Dorian recognized an elder’s criticism when he heard it.

Funny, he was no longer thinking of Zie Zen as Ashaya’s husband of sorts. The relationship was clearly something quite different. He got more proof of that when Ashaya looked down at her feet.

Well, hell. Dorian’s eyes narrowed—he’d never been able to make her back down. But, he thought, even he—tough-shit sentinel that he was—bowed his head in front of his mother. He’d bet on Zie Zen not being Keenan’s father, even in the cold, scientific way of the Psy.

“It was the only way,” she said at last. “I had to make sure Omega would never be completed.”

“We both know that Omega is not, and has never been, an active project. You also know that we were working to remove even the idea of it from the arsenal.”

This time, Ashaya’s spine went stiff and she looked up. “Too slow.”

Zie Zen held her gaze. “You lied in order to gain publicity. What we can’t understand is why, not when you’ve never before shown any political aspirations.” When Ashaya remained mute, he said, “Amara has been co-opted by the Council.”

Ashaya’s defiance seemed to disappear. “No. She’s too smart to get caught.”

“Something tripped her up.” Zie Zen reached into his pocket.

Dorian didn’t make any aggressive moves—he worked with weapons almost every day; he knew the older man had plain paper in his pocket.

“Here.” The Psy male passed an envelope to Ashaya. “It’s a message from her.”

Ashaya stared at the envelope as if it was a live snake. “I don’t want it.”

“That’s irrational behavior. She’s the only one capable of reinitiating the Implant Protocol and undoing everything you’ve achieved.”

When Ashaya still refused to accept the letter, Dorian reached out and took it from the other man. “I’ll make sure she reads it.”

Zie Zen gave a slow nod. “Make certain she also gets her shields back in place. She’s breaking.”

“No.” Dorian would not put Ashaya back behind that wall of ice. “She’s becoming who she was always meant to be.”

Zie Zen’s eyes flickered, before snapping to Ashaya. “You haven’t told him.”

Dorian felt a prickle at the back of his neck, the honed instincts of a hundred predators before him. “Ashaya?”

She gave him a look that could’ve cut glass. “This is not your business.”

And that was when Dorian crossed over a very defined line in his head. “Yes,” he said. “It is.”

Zie Zen glanced at his sleek silver timepiece. “I must go.”

“Your pickup about to arrive?”

Zie Zen nodded. A second later, a Psy male in a black uniform blinked into place. Ashaya glanced at the Tk-Psy but didn’t say anything as the man nodded once at Dorian, then teleported both himself and Zie Zen out of the warehouse.

“Don’t you care that they know about your pack’s part in this?”

“They have no real information to use against us.” Dorian shrugged. “And the Council knows we hate their guts.”

Ashaya refused to look at him as he moved ever closer. The heat of him seeped through her back and into her bones as he stopped behind her. She waited for him to speak but he said nothing. She’d noticed that about him. Dorian always waited. Knowing the tactic didn’t make it any less disconcerting.

A breath whispered past her ear and she knew he was bending down. His lips touched the sensitive skin of her nape. Light, so light, they could’ve been butterfly wings. But she felt them. They burned. And still she didn’t move.

“You lied about Omega being an active project.”

Relieved at the topic, she said, “So?”

The next question wasn’t so easy. “What was Zie Zen talking about? What haven’t you told me?”

She kept her silence even as she felt her body begin to burn from the inside out.

His fingers brushed over her. Gentle, teasing touches along her neck. Invitations to surrender… to sin. “Stop,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t break open. Not fully.” Every time her internal shields dropped, Amara whispered to her. Ashaya was in no doubt that her sister already had a lock on her physical position.

Heat, sweet, teasing heat against the lobe of her ear. The brush of lips that looked so hard when he was angry, but felt velvety soft. It made her shiver. “Dorian, you have to stop. I told you, I can’t simply forget Sile—”

“Why?”

He was so close, the lean hardness of him pressed against her like living fire.

She swallowed. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Insistent. Adamant.

“Because if I do,” she said, shattering a silence she’d kept for more years than she could count, “then Amara will find me.” She hoped he hadn’t noticed her minute hesitation. Because it wasn’t for herself that she feared—she would live if Amara found her.

Keenan wouldn’t.

And even that wasn’t the true horror of it.

Dorian pulled back. “Explain.”

Ashaya wondered where to start. She’d just opened her mouth when Dorian’s cell phone began beeping. He kept one hand on her hip as he checked the readout. “It’s Jimmy.” A pause, followed by a rapid-fire conversation. “Yeah? When? Okay, get the hell away from them. No, that’s all I need.” Hanging up, he filled her in. “More Psy on the streets—they obviously know you’re here but not where.”

“Amara.” She knew in her gut that the information had come from Amara, but her sister wouldn’t have given them the exact location. That wasn’t how the game was played. “She—”

Dorian cut her off. “You can explain later. Right now, we need to get you out of the hot zone.”

“Why can’t we stay here?”

He squeezed her hip and the sensation was an electric current crackling over her body. “Telepathic scans might be illegal, but these aren’t boy scouts we’re dealing with. All it’ll take is for them to scan one person who saw you in the car. Come on.” He grabbed her hand.

To her surprise, he didn’t lead her toward the parked car. They headed to the back of the structure instead. He pushed open a small door and pulled her through to the bright sunshine of the early summer’s day. She was still trying to acclimatize her eyes to the light when they went through the back door of another building and then downstairs.

“Where are we going?” she gasped as they jogged down the narrow corridor and to the door at the end.

“Wait and see.” Giving her a sharp grin, he twisted open the lock on the door and began to pull her through.

She had just enough time to see the exposed earth walls, the wooden beams holding up the ceiling, the darkness, before her mind revolted. “No! Dorian, no! Please!” She dragged her feet, but he was too strong and his momentum threatened to carry them through the door and into the pitch-black of the tunnel.