Hostage to Pleasure

CHAPTER 35

Is he infectious?

“I won’t let anyone touch him,” Dorian promised Ashaya, “and the pack will stand by you.” As he’d stood by their mates and children. “But we need to know.”

“To catch it from him,” Ashaya said, her voice thick, “you’d have to cut him open and ingest sections of his brain tissue. Amara got that idea from an obscure New Guinean prion disease called kuru. She tinkered with the protein until ingestion was the only method of transmission—she didn’t want anyone to be able to steal her research.”

Unable to put the car on automatic, he reached out and tangled the fingers of one hand with hers. “Is he terminal?”

“No.” To his amazement, her face lit up. “Keenan is absolutely, utterly healthy and he’ll stay that way. I don’t know what Amara did to him in the test tube, but Dorian, he’s a miracle… he has antibodies in his blood.”

He wasn’t a scientist. It took him a second. “He holds the answer to a cure for all prion diseases.” Hard on the heels of that joyful realization came another, darker one. “He’s also the key the Council needs to unleash Omega.” It was a truth they could never be allowed to discover.

Ashaya nodded. “Amara has no idea about the antibodies—I sabotaged her tests. But no matter what, I knew it would come down to her or him.” Her eyes met his and in them he saw a heartbreaking decision, the bloody protectiveness of a mother winning out over the ties of a bond formed before birth. “Age five was the point at which she planned to dissect his brain.”

Jesus. “You were racing a deadline from day one.”

“Yes, at first. Then two and a half years ago, when Ming began to pay her too much attention and she went underground, I thought he was safe.”

“But she didn’t forget him,” he guessed.

A jerky shake of the head. “She considers him the first step in her most important piece of work.”

Her fingers were clenching around his hard enough to bruise. She was, he realized, barely keeping it together. “You want to talk about something else for a while?” He wasn’t up to subtlety at the moment, but he needed to take care of her.

She grabbed on to the offered escape with desperate quickness. “Yes.”

“How about my abnormal DNA?” he teased, though the cat was still snarling in protective fury. “Have you fixed me?”

“I’m working on it.” Her fingers relaxed as she found her footing in science.

His leopard growled in pleased approval. Ashaya’s internal strength was a thing of beauty. Yet she’d let him soothe her. It was as much a caress to his predator’s soul as if she’d curled those long, talented fingers around him.

That was all it took.

Sexual heat was suddenly a talon inside him, his beast one step closer to animal savagery. “Tell me.” Letting her go, he squeezed both hands around the steering wheel in a vain effort to stop the primitive fury of his reaction. He’d waited too long, and now his cat was no longer giving him a choice. Either he coaxed Ashaya into melting for him in every way… or he got the hell away from her. And right now, there was no damn way he was going to leave her unprotected.

“It’s a puzzle,” she said, unknowingly stoking his hunger with the primness of her voice. Especially now that he knew how uninhibited she was in bed. He could still hear her gasping little cries from this afternoon, all hot and demanding.

If he didn’t have her naked and under him soon, he’d go fucking insane.

“Your DNA is identical to normal changeling DNA in every respect that I can see, but—”

“Where did you get the control sample?” A flash of dark heat raced through him and he knew himself well enough to identify it as a dose of pure jealousy.

“From Tamsyn.” A pause, as if she was debating whether to continue. “I knew you’d react negatively if I approached a male. You’re… possessive.”

“Sugar, I’m way past possessive.” His voice was no longer fully human.

“Dorian?”

The sound of her voice, thick velvet and honey, wrapped around him like a silken fist. “Be quiet.” He focused his attention on getting them where they needed to go.

“I won’t take being talked to in that tone.”

She was worried about his tone? If she didn’t stop inciting the beast, she’d be hot and tight around his cock before they even got off this bloody highway. He growled low in his throat, releasing the leopard the only way he could. “Be. Quiet.”

Ashaya seemed shocked into silence. It lasted about six minutes. “Predatory changeling men are meant to be protective toward women.”

He kept his eyes on the road.

“Their women, in any case,” she said after another pause.

Fifteen more minutes and he’d show her exactly how protective he was.

“I suppose technically I’m one of the enemy, so the protective element of your nature wouldn’t apply.”

Where the hell was the turnoff? There! He swept the vehicle into a narrow dirt track, taking Ashaya deep into an isolated section of the sprawling Yosemite forest. While most of it was a national park, habitation was allowed under certain restricted rules.

“Dorian?”

Ten more minutes, he told himself.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You consider me an ene—”

“Shaya,” he gritted out, “you’re babbling.”

That made her snap her mouth shut for several more minutes. “A nervous reaction. I should be able to handle it using the same tools I used when sitting face-to-face with Councilor Ming LeBon.”

The dirt track became nothing more than the most primitive of paths a hundred meters ahead. Switching to the hover-drive, he took them into the shadow of the majestic guardians of the forest—the giant sequoias.

“However, none of my tools seem to be working.”

He slammed the car into low gear, maneuvering them over a small outcropping of rock. Even using the hover-drive, he could cause damage, but he knew the forest well enough to avoid going near anything that wouldn’t regenerate quickly. Right now, he was more worried about his cock regenerating. It was going to end up cut in half if he didn’t lower the zipper soon.

“I can’t stop talking,” she said, her shock open. “Why? My stomach is full of butterflies, my heart is thundering, and my palms are damp.” A small pause, followed by a relieved sigh. “Must be fear. You’ve got a very threatening look on your face.”

That did it. He brought the car to a halt in front of a cabin so well hidden by greenery, not even cats would find it if they weren’t actively looking. He wondered what Ashaya would think of it. But first things first. “You,” he said, turning to glare at her, “are never to be threatened by me. Understood?”

She blinked. “Actually, right now you’re—”

“Tell me you understand.” He leaned closer, eyes narrowed.

“But—”

“No buts, no nothing. You have the ability to piss me off without even trying, but I’ll fucking take a gun to my head before I lay a hand on you. You clear on that?”

She was crushed against the door now, his hand palm down beside her head. But her face was one of rebellion. “No. Not while you’re being so aggressive.”

“Go on, baby, push me a little more.” He smiled.

Ashaya had a very bad feeling about that smile—but it was the kind of bad that had her body melting from the inside out. “Dorian, maybe we should go inside the house… I assume there is a house close by?”

He smiled widened. “Sure.”

Wary of his agreement, she waited until he moved back and then quickly got out. He followed a few seconds later, stopping to get her pack out of the back. “This way.” He jerked his head toward a heavy mass of foliage.

Her eyes widened as he nudged aside a sweep of trailing vines dotted with tiny white flowers and put his hand on a high-tech scanner, unlocking the door. She entered to find that the entire place was—but for a corridor that she assumed led to the bathroom facilities—a single large room shaded with the green dark of the forest.

“Lights,” he said a second later, and cunningly placed fixtures bathed the cabin in what felt like sunshine.

“It’s all glass,” she breathed, taking in the way he’d brought the forest inside. The leaves and flowers felt so close, she was tempted to reach out and touch. While the greenery was all shadowed curves outside, clean lines dominated inside. The bed took up the left section, but with plenty of room to move around it. To her right was a comfortable seating area, and beyond it, a small kitchen.

Suddenly, and though she’d heard no voice command, the lights all dimmed, except for the one that lit up the sleeping area. Turning, she opened her mouth to ask him—“Oh.”

Dorian was unbuttoning his shirt.

Her throat dried up as inch after inch of golden male flesh was revealed. A strange heat washed through her body, a turbulent internal storm. This afternoon, she’d held on to him because she needed to forget. Tonight, she knew she’d remember every touch, every caress… every hard male demand.

He shrugged off the shirt, and she saw it glide to the floor in a motion that seemed ridiculously slow to her heightened senses. In front of her, he was all sleek muscle and heat, a leopard contained in a body blessed with quicksilver grace. Whenever Dorian moved, she felt compelled to watch, it was such a beautiful thing.

Now, with his shirt off and an intrinsically male look on his face, his grace turned into the stalking prowl of a big hunting cat. And she knew very well she was the prey. Still, she stayed in place as he circled around her without speaking before stopping at her back. Tugs on her braid, her hair being released into a wildly curly mass. Then strong male hands stroked over her, sliding her cardigan down her arms.

She should’ve resisted… except she could find no reason to do so. What he’d done to her on the sofa—it had been beyond pleasure. She wanted more—to touch him as he’d touched her, to explore, to taste. And, given that her PsyNet shields were miraculously solid, she had no cause to fear. As for the rest… she didn’t know how the chaos of what she felt for Dorian kept Amara at bay, but it did. For these stolen moments, she was free. To live. To touch. And be touched.

The cardigan made a soft shush as it hit the floor.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Dorian said, his fingers resting on her hips, at the very edge of her waistband. “If you want to say no, do it now.” Taut strain in every syllable.

The practical question should’ve broken the sensual spell, but all it did was unlock her tongue. “You’re distracting me from my work on your DNA,” she said, trying to tease him. It came out wrong—she wasn’t used to this kind of play. And her mind wasn’t quite functioning, her body having taken complete control.

“I’m latent, not broken.”

Something stilled inside her, the primal heart of her—a heart that had come to screaming life entombed below the earth—understanding that his words weren’t a statement at all. “You’re a lethal, dangerously skilled sniper,” she said, speaking the absolute truth because she seemed unable to lie to him. “In many ways you’re tougher than those who know they can fall back on the strength of their beast.”

Clever fingers slid up and under her T-shirt, stroking skin that quivered at the first touch. “So why bother?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, put her hands on his wrists. “Slower.”

His fingers played over her ribs. “I told you the time for saying no was over.”

Despite the harsh words, she knew he’d never hurt her. She knew in a way that she’d never before known anything. As if the truth was carved deep inside her soul. “I’m not going to say no.” Against her skin, his fingertips were slightly rough, quintessentially male in a way she couldn’t define. She just knew that the feel of it was an erotic sensation she’d never have expected. “But sensuality is a drug I need to get used to in small doses.” She thought she might’ve surprised him when his fingers paused.

An instant later, they began moving again, stoking the fire within her with dark precision. “I’m patient.”

“I know.” He was also incredibly focused—he’d become a powerful and respected member of his pack despite being born with what many would’ve considered a handicap. But… “You hurt, Dorian.” A whisper that froze him. “I might be Psy, but I can feel your hurt at being unable to shift.” The knowing bewildered her, but that made it no less true.

Dorian felt as if she’d knocked him flat with that single quiet statement. He’d done such a damn good job of moving past his genetic flaw that he’d convinced everyone—even himself—that it didn’t matter. And on one level, it didn’t. He was proud of what he’d become, a changeling fully capable of defending his pack, his family. But… “I couldn’t save her.” A gut-wrenching confession.

Ashaya’s hands slid under the tee to clench on his. “From all I know, Santano Enrique was a monster in every way. Don’t allow the echo of his evil to taint your memories of your sister.”

“I swore to destroy the Psy Council.” Sascha’s empathic gift had saved him from becoming a beast ravaged by vengeance alone, but he was a predatory changeling male. He couldn’t forget. “They nurtured Enrique, protected him. I want their blood to flow in the streets.”

“Hate will destroy you,” she whispered. “It’ll destroy… us.”

He shuddered, burying his face in the curve of her neck. The electric curls of her hair cushioned him with a soft warmth that was so intrinsically female, he couldn’t hope to explain it. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he simply held her, allowed himself to hold her, to accept that she was his mate. And that she came from the very race he’d made the target of all his rage, all his pain… so that he wouldn’t have to face his own guilt.

A scientist’s practical hand rose to press against his cheek as Ashaya tilted her head in a sweet gesture of acceptance. “People always say it’s changelings who most crave touch, but that’s not the truth. A long time ago, long before Silence, Psy craved it more than any other.”

He let her words wash over him like affectionate rain. His mate, his mate, was trying to temper his grief, trying to tell him they weren’t so very different after all.

“We were becoming so mentally inclined, living so much on the psychic plane that it scared us. We sought out physical sensation to anchor us, to bring us back to reality.”

“Did it work?”

Her hand rubbed gently and he felt the cat in him shudder in surrender. “Yes,” she said. “It turned the course of our history so powerfully that even Silence couldn’t derail it. Not even the strongest among us retreat wholly from their physical bodies. Touch saved us.”

“Then save me, Shaya.” He laid his heart bare, invited her to savage it.

Dropping her hand, she turned in his arms. Then, rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his face in her palms and drew him down. Her kiss was innocent, vulnerable, a caress so gentle that it made him her slave between one breath and the next.

“Dorian,” she said and it was another caress. One hand fluttered to rest on his shoulder, the fingers of the other tracing a line across his cheekbone, along his jaw and down until she splayed her hand flat against his heartbeat.

Whether she understood or not, he knew he was being marked in a very feminine way. “More,” he demanded, greedy, starving, ready to take.