Slave to Sensation

CHAPTER 17

“Who is it?” He hadn’t forgotten her recklessness.

They’d discuss it privately. And he’d teach his Psy that when it came to Pack, one member’s life was very much relevant.

“They don’t know the identity of the killer.”

Dorian made a sound of anguish. A flare of Psy energy lit up Lucas’s senses and when it flared back down, Dorian was calmer but no less frustrated.

“They’ve set a trap.” She tightened her hand. “I could link into the PsyNet and shadow them until they know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How long?”

“Not very—the trap will spring the second he kills.”

“That could take days. Can you survive being buried that long?” He was starting to get a glimmer of how the Net worked. “You’re exhausted from what you did today and that was what—simply for a few hours?”

She flinched. “I’m strong enough. I’m a cardinal.”

There was something broken about her statement but he knew this wasn’t the place to pursue it. He’d gentle the truth out of her in private.

“If we don’t find her before she dies, the SnowDancers won’t accept only the killer’s blood in recompense.” Dorian was staring at the back of Sascha’s head as if he wanted to see through to her mind.

“I know.” Sascha nodded. “I have an idea to expedite the process.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“The killer is a predator with very fixed needs—his women are all of a certain type and, according to the Council’s research, he’s compulsive. I think if we give him a wide-open target, he won’t be able to resist going after it. And the trap will spring without Brenna’s death.”

“How do we set the trap when we don’t know where he is?” Nate asked.

Lucas knew the answer. “You’re going to be the bait, aren’t you? The trap is going to be on the PsyNet.”

“I’m not changeling but I’m flawed in a way that might negate that handicap. My mind appears to be able to… understand yours. We can use that to ensure the killer is attracted to me.” Her voice remained strong though her hand was trembling. “With your help, I’ll teach my mind to mimic changeling thought patterns. Once I’m in the Net, I’ll drop my shields enough that he picks up the altered patterns.”

“What happens next?”

“Because of his compulsive nature, I’m sure he’ll attack me on the psychic plane, try to incapacitate me mentally so as to get a free pass to my physical body. Once I know who it is, I’ll tell you.”

“Then you’ll fight for your life.” His jaw was tight, his hand crushing hers.

“That’s nonnegotiable,” she whispered. “It’s becoming almost impossible for me to hide myself in any case—you saw what the pressure did to me yesterday. I’d rather let the shields down in a controlled situation than chance having them collapse without warning.”

“How are you going to make sure it’s the killer who finds you first and not one of the others?” Tamsyn asked when Lucas remained silent. He knew the healer understood exactly what this was doing to him.

“I’ll need a distraction big enough to draw the attention of most of the PsyNet. I haven’t quite figured out how to do that yet but I’ll think of something, even if it means setting off a psychic bomb of sorts.” She took a deep breath and looked up.

“As well as giving me access to thought patterns I can mimic—ideally those of a female who fits the victim profile—one of you will have to allow me far enough into your mind that I can cloak myself in your… psychic scent. That person will also have to permit a psychic link during the entire plan’s execution.

“The killer is attracted to changelings and, unlike the rest of the Psy, he’ll recognize the presence of the scent before anyone else, especially if they’re distracted by something else.”

“Like waving fresh blood at a shark,” Mercy commented from her position by the back door.

“Yes. There’s something else.” Sascha’s eyes bled to darkness as Lucas watched and the panther knew she was hurting. It threatened to break him that he couldn’t take away her pain. “Ever since Silence was instituted, the Psy have been proud of their lack of violence.”

“Silence?” Tamsyn asked.

“A program to decondition young Psy to emotion. If we feel no rage, no jealousy, no love, then we won’t kill. At least that was the rationale.”

“Oh, my God,” Tamsyn said. “They purposefully crippled their children.”

“And they didn’t solve the problem. According to what I learned today, there are fifty known serial killers circulating among the Psy population. It seems the Council has a policy of quietly taking care of them.”

“Death?” Nate asked.

“Rehabilitation. It’s death of the mind, completely wiping out the individual and most of the higher mental functions.” Her eyes pleaded with Lucas to remember the promise he’d made to her. “But they’re not caging all of them. Some of the serials are considered integral to the functioning of the PsyNet.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Tamsyn whispered.

“They provide victims for the indispensable ones, hide their trails, and ensure their kills don’t make waves either in the PsyNet or the human-changeling world.”

Lucas could see her fighting the urge to throw up. His beast wanted to pick her up and take her to safe harbor but her eyes said she hadn’t finished. He was astounded by her strength—how could that fragile body hold so much courage, so much heart?

Dorian spit out a curse. “When they gave up their emotions, they gave up their humanity.”

Sascha looked at the angry leopard. “I agree. I’m sorry your sister was stolen from you. If I could reverse your pain, I would. But I can’t. All I can do is try to save another life.”

Dorian’s response surprised everyone in the room. “You’re different, Sascha. I’m not so angry that I can’t see the truth. You feel.”

Sascha’s laugh was so bittersweet, it ruffled Lucas’s fur the wrong way. “My entire life, I’ve been terrified of those words. I always believed it would be one of the Council who discovered me. I never thought of it as a good thing… until I met you.” She was looking at Lucas with eyes of ebony night, not a star in sight.

“Since I don’t know when they’ll realize my flaw and attempt to take me in, I’ll need to get the information to you as soon as I get it. That’s why I need a constant link to one of you. What I know, you’ll know. You’ll be cut free the second I drop out of the Net.”

He knew she expected to be killed by the Council. “You’re under our protection.” The panther was so close to the surface his voice had dropped several octaves.

Nate, Dorian, Mercy, and Tamsyn voiced their agreement. Sascha had just earned the respect of some of the toughest leopards in DarkRiver. Once she was Pack, the others would follow their lead. And Lucas had no doubt that Sascha was going to become part of his pack.

Her face looked incredibly sad for a second. “No one escapes from the PsyNet.” She glanced at the leopards around the room. “Thank you for showing me more life in a few days than I ever expected to experience. I won’t go down easy—I want to live.”

Lucas refused to let her say good-bye. “Who says no one ever escapes from the PsyNet? Has anybody ever tried?”

Her eyes widened. “No.”

He shook his head. “Not as far as you know. If they’re keeping quiet about serial killers, don’t you think they’d bury the loss of any Psy out of the Net?”

“That won’t work with me. I’m too visible. I couldn’t disappear even if there was a way out. I’d have to change my identity and I can’t.” She pointed to her eyes. “No contact lenses made can hide these.”

“I won’t let them erase you. In any way.” No one took one of Lucas’s people without consequences. Kylie’s death had never been forgotten and until vengeance was taken, it would remain a burning pain in his soul.

And his woman? If anyone so much as bruised her, he’d destroy them. He reached out to rub at the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re exhausted. Even if we let you run this insane plan, you can’t do it now.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. We still have a few days. This is the third night since he took Brenna.” Her tone held the knowledge of the horror the SnowDancer had to be going through. “I wish I could recover quicker, but shadowing Henry drained me.”

“Tamsyn?” He glanced at the healer.

“I’ve got her. Come on, honey.” She touched Sascha’s shoulder. “I’ll make you up a room and find you something comfortable to sleep in.”

Sascha stood and he felt the sharp rush of her disappointment. The vain cat in him preened, but the protective, possessive panther silently promised he’d make it up to her.

“Thank you. I should be fine by morning. Then we’ll hunt.” She didn’t even seem to realize she’d used the words of a changeling… of a leopard.

He smiled. Sascha Duncan was no longer Psy, even if she refused to see that. Poor baby. He was going to enjoy educating her about living life as his mate.

Tamsyn closed the bedroom door before giving Sascha the cup of hot chocolate she’d whipped up. There was such an intense look on the woman’s face that even without her strange ability to sense emotion, Sascha knew that whatever the healer had to tell her, it wouldn’t be easy.

“I’m going to share something about Lucas with you that he never will—his need to protect you overwhelms every other instinct. It’s not a choice he can make.” Tamsyn’s soft brown eyes were gentle but her tone held an edge of steel Sascha had never expected. “I’m telling you because I trust you.”

Don’t betray my trust.

She heard the unspoken words as clearly as if Tamsyn had opened her mouth and shaped them into sound. “Why tell me at all?”

“Because of what you said downstairs about needing an open mind when you go into the PsyNet.” She frowned. “Sit down before you fall down. The last thing I need is Lucas after me for neglecting you.”

Sascha sat. “What is it I need to know?” She put the drink on the bedside table.

Tamsyn sat down on the bed beside her and took a shaky breath. “When Lucas was barely thirteen, a small band of roaming leopards tried to infiltrate our territory. We weren’t as strong back then and the ShadowWalkers thought they could destroy our power structure and install themselves as alpha.” She sighed. “It’s been done before—we might be more humane than the Psy but we’re not perfect.”

Sascha didn’t interrupt, caught by the jagged shards of pain she could hear in Tamsyn’s normally even tones.

“Lucas’s mother was a healer, his father a sentinel.” She smiled softly. “Sometimes I think that’s why he allows me so much freedom in the pack.”

Sascha had barely begun to give in to her hunger for touch, barely begun to understand that it was as essential to her as food, but she could feel Tamsyn’s need like a second heartbeat. She put her hand over the other woman’s. Tamsyn’s fingers curled over hers.

“The ShadowWalkers couldn’t get to our alpha pair so they decided to attack a sentinel and get information on our defenses. Lucas’s family was on a run in the forests when they were surrounded. Afterward, we realized the original plan must’ve been to break Carlo by making him witness the rape and torture of his mate.” Tamsyn’s fingers threatened to crush Sascha’s weaker bones.

She took another trembling breath. “But the ShadowWalkers underestimated Shayla. She was a healer but she was also a mother and she fought for the life of her child. The other leopards couldn’t afford to lose Carlo but in the fighting, Shayla was killed.”

“Tamsyn,” Sascha began, alarmed by the depth of her anguish. It was so heavy, so old and potent, having matured over the years into pure sorrow.

“No, I can only do this once. After I leave this room, we’ll never speak of it again.” Her eyes asked for a promise, which Sascha gladly gave. “Lucas was so young, much weaker than the adult males who attacked them. He was easily contained when he tried to save his parents.”

Sascha’s heart hurt for the panther who was so possessive and protective. Now she understood his need to mark her, to hold her safe. “Was his father captured?”

“Yes. They took both Lucas and Carlo. Shayla’s body was removed and buried deep where her scent wouldn’t warn us. But it wasn’t deep enough. We found her.”

“How long?” How long had Lucas been in the hands of those merciless killers?

“Four days.” Tamsyn’s voice was haunted. “When we got to them, Carlo was so badly damaged that no one could save him. I was a trainee, a juvenile myself. Shayla had been our healer and she was gone. I burned myself out but I couldn’t save him. It was as if his soul had flown with Shayla’s.” Tears streaked down her face.

“Tamsyn.” Using the strange, inexplicable, wonderful part of her soul that could heal hearts, she gathered in the other woman’s pain. As it settled in her, heavy and aching, Tamsyn’s voice seemed to lighten.

“The last words Carlo said to us were, ‘We didn’t break.’ That was when we realized Lucas must’ve survived. The ShadowWalkers had tried to hide him so they could retrieve him later—he was tied up in a cave not far from Carlo. Wh-when we found him, he had so many broken bones and bloody claw slashes on him that the only reason we recognized him was because of the Hunter marks.” She touched her face as if stroking Lucas’s mark. “His wrists and ankles were rubbed through to the bone from fighting the restraints.”

Sascha felt a sob catch in her throat. “They tortured him to break Carlo?”

Tamsyn nodded. “They wanted what Carlo knew—the locations of our safe houses, the routes we run, our alpha pair’s lair and defense grid.”

“How did Lucas survive?”

“I don’t know.” Tamsyn sounded utterly bewildered. “They’d held back with his father because he was the important one, but with Lucas…” She shook her head. “It was as if he refused to die. Some people said he survived because he’d been born a Hunter and had strengths we didn’t know about. I just think he wanted vengeance.”

“The ShadowWalkers escaped?”

Tamsyn nodded. “We were strong enough to drive them off but not to track and take them down without leaving our young vulnerable. As a result, we lived under a kind of martial law for five years, never leaving the group, never making ourselves targets.”

Her eyes met Sascha’s. “When Lucas was only eighteen and still a juvenile by our standards, he went out one night with a pack of sentinels and some others. The sentinels had given him their loyalty the day they learned that despite the torture, he hadn’t broken.”

Sascha couldn’t begin to imagine the strength of will it must’ve taken for Lucas to honor his loyalty to Pack. But he had.

“They went hunting every single adult male ShadowWalker.” Blood fury threaded Tamsyn’s normally gentle voice. “By the time they finished, the ShadowWalkers had ceased to exist and DarkRiver was a pack no one dared to threaten.”

Sascha wasn’t repulsed by the violence. It was far more palatable to her than the hypocrisy of the Psy, who let killers roam free while championing their peaceful image. At least the changelings were honest. At least they loved enough to hunger for vengeance. All the Psy hungered for was power.

“Five years later,” Tamsyn said, wrenching Sascha out of her bleak thoughts, “ Lachlan, our ruling alpha, stepped down in favor of Lucas. The sentinels vowed their blood oath without hesitation.” She shook her head. “He was only twenty-three. Most leopards are barely mature at that age but Lucas was already tougher than any of the other males.”

“He was honed in fire.” Sascha thought of the pain that had created Lucas and mourned for the boy who’d never had a chance to be a youth. What must it have been like to grow up in the shadow of his parents’ blood?

“Do you understand?” Tamsyn looked into Sascha’s eyes.

“Yes.” Tears fell in her most secret heart—she didn’t yet know how to cry in the open.

The healer wasn’t convinced. “The ShadowWalkers kept him tied up. They made him watch his father being tortured before turning on him. The things they did… Don’t ask him to be the one who anchors you.”

Don’t ask him to watch you die while he stands helpless.

“He’ll volunteer.” Sascha knew what kind of a man Lucas was, what kind of a leader.

“Then stop him. Tell him he won’t do. I’ll take his place.” Raw pain darkened Tamsyn’s eyes.

Sascha nodded but they both knew that turning Lucas from his chosen path was an almost impossible task.

In spite of her mental exhaustion, she was lying awake in bed when she felt his presence nearby. A minute later, he pushed open the bedroom door and closed it behind him, treating her room as his territory.

She knew that to let him have his way would only reinforce his already autocratic tendencies, but she also knew that her chance of surviving her impending mental collapse, trap or no trap, was close to nil. Either she’d flame out or the Council’s mercenaries would hunt her down after her shields failed.

Time was rushing out from between her desperately cupped hands—she didn’t want to pretend not to adore him tonight. Quite simply, he was everything she’d ever dreamed of and never dared to touch.

In the soft darkness he was all masculine prowl as he got into bed beside her, lying atop the blankets while she lay below, barely dressed in an old T-shirt that Tamsyn had found. She’d given it to Sascha with an odd comment: “No other scent will pacify him.”

He put one arm over her body. “I want to be naked under those sheets with you.”

She felt herself blush and gloried in finally being able to just “be.” Death was certain. She might as well enjoy the life she had left. “Is that how you usually woo prospective lovers?” She was teasing; this felt right, as if she’d been loving him forever.

He nuzzled at her neck, one hand moving up the sheet to clasp hers as it lay open beside her head. “Only women who already know my body inside out, who know my every desire, my every pleasure point. Only you.”

Her heart threatened to stop beating. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve loved me in my dreams, kitten. What about in reality?” He raised his head and those cat eyes glowed eerily.

For an instant, she was completely fascinated. “Do your eyes always do that in the dark?”

“No.” Leaning down, he nipped at her lower lip, startling her… pleasuring her. “I just don’t want to miss even an inch of your body.” He tugged at the blanket.

She pulled it back up. “I’m not responsible for your dreams.”

He spoke against her lips. “Do you know my favorite part?” Not waiting for her response, he said, “It was where you tasted me. I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life. I was mad as hell to wake up and find myself alone.”

Sascha couldn’t breathe. It was suddenly far too hot. Pushing at the confining blanket, she shoved it down, helped along by Lucas. Too late she realized that her legs were now bare to her upper thighs. It didn’t matter. Only the dreams mattered.

“How could you have seen my dreams?” she whispered. They’d been her most secret, most precious treasure. In those dreams she’d been who she might’ve been had she not lived the life of a Psy.

“You invited me in.” He sat up above her with his knees on either side of her thighs. As she watched, dry-mouthed, he raised his black T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. “Do you know what I like?”

Without stopping to think, she scraped her nails down the hot steel of his abdomen. Hard. He purred and she froze. “I don’t know how I did it—it wasn’t intentional.” She’d never have had the courage to taste him if she’d thought him real.

“You’re a cardinal Psy.” When she didn’t continue to pet him, he raised her fingers and nibbled at them in playful warning. Her stomach filled with a thousand butterflies. Tugging her hand away, she tried to sit up. He wouldn’t let her. “No, kitten. I like you like that.” He braced himself on his palms beside her and sniffed at her neck like some great hunting beast.

Which was exactly what he was.

Then he did something utterly unexpected and mind-blowingly sensual. Giving her no warning, he moved his head and bit her nipple gently through the T-shirt. Her back arched. A scream threatened to rip from her throat. Instead of letting go, he sucked hard, making her mindless with lust. By the time he released her, his knees were on the inside of her thighs and he was slowly spreading her open.

“You smell of me,” he growled against her throat, giving her a quick lick. “All over, you smell of me.”

She moaned. “Wh-what?”

He pushed himself up above her and used the fingers of one hand to tug at the nipple he hadn’t sucked. She had to fight herself not to reach out and pull down the zipper of his jeans, knowing precisely what he’d feel like in her palms. Hot, hard, silky smooth, and perfect.