Slave to Sensation

CHAPTER 24

“What would you do in my place?” Her eyes were pure black when he looked at her. “What would honor demand?”

“You’re my mate. Honor means nothing.”

She opened the door and got out. He sat inside until she came around to his side and opened the door. Her hands were warm and alive on his face. “Liar,” she whispered. “Honor means everything. Otherwise, we’re exactly like them.”

Getting out, he wrapped his arms tight around her trembling form. “I’ll do it.” He wondered if she understood that he’d just torn out his heart and laid it at her feet.

She shook her head. “I can’t hurt you like that.”

“No dice, kitten. I’ll anchor you and, afterward, you’ll psychically reach out for me. No more fighting our mating. Your reluctance is the only thing holding it back—the second you try to link, the bond should snap into place.”

Pushing off him hard enough to break his hold, she said, “No.”

“Yes.”

“What will happen to DarkRiver without you? Have you thought of that?” She was shaking her head, eyes ebony night. “You’re not going to last longer than a couple of months if I link with you in any way—I’ll suck you dry. Don’t ask me to destroy you.”

“Vaughn’s strong enough to take over until Kit comes of age.” There was no choice to be made.

“No, Lucas. No.” Her entire body was shaking.

“It’s the only way I’ll allow you to go in.” He let her hear the steel in his voice, let her remember his threat to incapacitate her. There was nothing civilized in him where Sascha was concerned. “Promise me.”

She shook her head mutely.

“Promise me, kitten.”

Turning, she ran from him. He let her go into the house. Then he waited until Vaughn slipped out of the woods to stand before him. “She’s right. DarkRiver needs you.”

“And I need her.” Lucas had watched one woman he loved die. He couldn’t do it again. “If I survive her, I’ll be as good as dead anyway.”

Aware she hadn’t fully recovered from shadowing Henry, Sascha decided to put the plan into effect the following night. It would give her time to carefully examine the thought patterns she’d be mimicking. Rina had volunteered to allow Sascha to scan her patterns, as it had become clear that the young soldier fit the victim profile.

Those were the logical reasons but the truth was, no matter how selfish it made her, she wanted one more night with her lover. In bed, in the darkness, she was the one who reached for him.

He was wild and angry and she felt his withheld fury. But his hands were unbearably tender, his touch a kind of devotion she’d never dreamed of. She fell asleep in his arms, safe and protected. Which was why when the dream began, she couldn’t quite believe the horror.

“Help me!” It was a scream from the core of a woman’s consciousness. “Please help me!”

Broken by the raw suffering she could hear, Sascha tried to soothe her. The woman retreated from her as if she’d been burned. “No!”

“Let me help you,” Sascha begged, tears streaming inside her mind for this woman whose face she couldn’t see.

“You’re Psy.” That voice was full of rage but agony throbbed endlessly beneath the surface.

“I’m not like him.” She sent out subtle waves of healing. The emotions that washed back up to her echoed with so much suffering, she ached. She kept taking it and it kept coming. “You’re unbelievably strong.”

“I cried.” The defiance was gone from the whisper. It was as if she had to trust Sascha, the solitary voice in the darkness. “I begged him to stop.”

Sascha tried to fix the tattered shreds of the woman’s pride. “You survived and you kept him from your mind. You didn’t break. That’s what’s important.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“We’re coming for you. Survive for us.”

“You’re not Pack. You smell like the cats.”

“We’re all one against the enemy.” The depth of damage in the young girl’s psyche staggered her. That she’d managed to keep the killer from her innermost mind was a testament to her incredible strength of will. “We’re coming, Brenna. We’re coming.”

“Hurry.” The voice was fading. “Please hurry.”

Sascha woke as morning was breaking and knew they couldn’t wait any longer. “Now,” she told Lucas, finding him in the living room with Hawke, his lieutenants, and two other males. It didn’t surprise her to see the wolves there—both alphas were preparing to rise against the Psy, “We have to do it now. We can’t leave Brenna with him any longer.” Her tone was on this side of hysterical.

Lucas ordered everyone out. Nobody spoke a word as they filed out and closed the door behind them. Nobody but Hawke. “What time should I tell the Laurens?”

Sascha reached for her timepiece as he reached for his. “Five minutes from now.”

“I’ll call Judd.”

She nodded.

“We’ll keep you safe, sweetheart.” He touched her face and left.

Hope was a dangerous commodity and she couldn’t indulge in it. Her eyes met Lucas’s as she walked across the room to face him. “It doesn’t have to be you,” she said one more time, begging him.

“It has to be me. I’m yours.” His kiss held his heart.

It broke hers.

“Let’s start,” she whispered, unable to bear this any longer. If she thought about what she was going to do, she might never do it, might leave Brenna to be tortured and murdered, her mind raped and then discarded. That she’d even consider such a thing made her fear for her soul.

She felt Lucas’s mind welcome hers. Though he wasn’t a Psy, it felt almost like shields dropping. She didn’t need to go completely inside to gain what she needed. Instead, she made a superficial link that would allow her to feed him information and smell of him on a psychic level.

That scent would bolster the impression of a changeling mind that she was going to create using the glimpse she’d had of Rina’s thought patterns. Their minds worked differently enough from those of the Psy that no one would ever mistake one for the other. However, it might be possible to fool the killer long enough for Sascha to get a fix on him.

“Don’t expose yourself unnecessarily.”

Sascha nodded. One way or another, she’d have to drop out of the Net, but she wanted to get out without revealing the entire scope of her empathic mind. It would keep others like her safe… if there were any others like her. “If he’s drawn to this bait enough that he ventures close, I won’t have to. But if he’s wary, I might have to give him a more interesting victim.”

Lucas’s eyes flashed with denial but he didn’t try to tell her not to do it. Her alpha male was finally learning that she couldn’t be ordered around. “Come back to me, Sascha. Promise me you’ll initiate the link.”

Brenna’s screams echoed in her mind, urging haste. “I promise.” Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, wishing for just another hour, another minute, another lifetime. “Thank you for teaching me how to live.”

His hand clasped the back of her neck, those Hunter’s eyes violent with the animal’s hunger for her. “If you want to thank me, stay alive. Keep your promise.”

Initiate the link.

Sascha forced herself to nod. “We should start.” She led him to the sofa. Lucas sat down, legs sprawled along its length. Without argument, she crawled up to lie with her head against his chest, putting her arms around his muscular frame.

She could hear his heart, his life, through the soft cotton of his gray T-shirt. How could he condemn her to steal that from him? How could he force his pack to go on without their leader? She wasn’t worth the sacrifice, a woman born of a race who’d lost their humanity a hundred years ago.

“Ready?” A gentle hand smoothed over her unbound hair.

She’d never be ready to kill them both. Only, the alternative was much worse. “Yes. Judd and Sienna will be setting off the distraction in a minute.” Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and found him.

Lucas’s flame was pure heat, pure light. He’d trusted his mind to her but she didn’t go in, couldn’t face what she might see. His emotions for her might destroy her. Instead, she gently merged into the upper layer until her thought patterns began to echo his in a subtle way that didn’t change them but altered their psychic feel.

Letting Lucas’s heartbeat soothe her, she opened her mind’s eye. She was still behind her shields, still protected. If she wanted, she could pull back without betraying anything.

Brenna’s screams reverberated in her mind.

No, she could never pull back. First, she checked that the truth of her healing, rainbow-bright mind was hidden deep. Then she manufactured a flaw in her shields, something that looked natural. In a way, her plan was blindingly simple … if you were a cardinal E-Psy forced into becoming a genius of multi-layered shields, and if you were able to link with and so easily mimic changeling minds.

She’d realized sometime last night that her ability to touch changeling minds was part of her gift, because the nature of empathy made it impossible for one to turn evil and do harm to an open mind. When they’d crushed the development of empaths, the Psy had destroyed the growth of their conscience.

“This one’s for us,” she said within her soul. It was for all those E-Psy who’d died tortured deaths in the transitional phase, all those who’d gone insane under Silence, and all those who’d buried their gifts so deep they thought they were broken.

After a lifetime of feeling as if she’d failed at being Psy, she was winning at being everything she was capable of being. And if the changelings alone ever knew of her victory, then that was good enough for her. More than good enough. Because they remembered. Unlike the Psy, they didn’t systematically erase those who didn’t “fit.”

Using the flaw she’d created, she allowed vague tendrils of her Lucas-influenced thought patterns to filter through. She shaped the outgoing whispers based on Rina’s mind. Rebellious, headstrong, loyal, independent, and sensual, these were the traits of the women the killer had taken. The altered blend of her psychic signature was very carefully tailored to appeal to him.

Most Psy would have no idea what was unusual about it. Some might notice but they’d see her cardinal star and put it down to some odd talent. Only a Psy who’d ripped open a changeling mind would recognize this scent for what it was.

Fifty known operators.

Sascha refused to let herself think about failure. She had to trust in fate and the killer’s hunger for this particular breed of prey.

As the thought patterns filtered through, she slipped out a hidden doorway built into her outer shield and into the starry night of the PsyNet. It was the same trick she used while ghosting. But this was even more dangerous.

Today, her mind was trapped inside her shields, because it needed to maintain the contact with Lucas and feed the false illusion. When she went ghosting, she left behind an illusion mind, while her consciousness, her self, traveled the Net. In a sense, she split herself into body and mind.

A variation on the same thing occurred when she “met” someone on the PsyNet. Because she usually needed to continue functioning on the physical level, she sent out a roaming piece of herself. For the time it was on the Net, that piece acted as a separate individual apart from her, almost as if she’d copied herself. There was vulnerability there on account of the underlying connection to her inner mind, but it was so low most Psy never worried about it.

The part of her on the outside today was connected directly to the core of her mind. She couldn’t use a roaming piece of herself because the NetMind would pick it up and so would other Psy. To create the illusion that she wasn’t in the Net at all, she had to be outside but fully connected to the core. However, if someone took control of her here, they’d have unhindered access to her brain—mind control on the most intimate level.

However, she couldn’t worry about that possibility—she had too much else choking up her throat. Already, the currents of the Net were spreading her bait. All she had to do was wait and watch. Hidden against her own mind, her presence was almost impossible to detect. This was such a dangerous maneuver that most Psy would never think to look for it, but she had to be outside her shields to see the killer’s mental face.

Even if she didn’t recognize him, she’d have enough to ID him from the PsyNet databases. So long as the rainbow of her true mind stayed hidden, she’d be able to use the resources of the Net.

Two curious high-Gradient minds passed close by but didn’t stop. She heard parts of their conversation, which they weren’t bothering to shield. The word “cardinal” featured prominently. The flaw she’d created was unique but not so overwhelmingly a bad fit that normal Psy would question it. She’d counted on their arrogance, which led them to think changelings harmless and thus not worth studying as you would an enemy.

Her nerves relaxed a fraction at the small success. The temptation to go back and wipe away her shields until she could touch Lucas’s mind in a psychic kiss was almost overwhelming. She needed touch and she knew her lover wouldn’t mind the caress despite his independent nature.

He belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.

However, to expose him that way would be sheer selfishness. An intruding Psy could harm him through her if her shields cracked. And Lucas couldn’t die. She wouldn’t allow it.

Something pinged on her outermost shields, which weren’t actually shields but warning beacons, one of her secret creations. Excitement mounting, she watched. Oh hell! Why hadn’t she realized that she’d inevitably draw this one mind?

Sascha.

Mother. I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your call—I’ve been very busy. She answered using the mental pathways of telepathy, as if she wasn’t actually present on the Net. Hopefully, her mother was too preoccupied by the hunt for the killer and the Laurens’ distraction to quiz her about exactly what she’d been up to.

One of your shields has a fracture. Fix it before people try to take advantage and sneak in viruses.

Of course Nikita would worry about viruses. Thank you.

There’s something odd about your patterns. Perhaps a visit to Medical is in order.

Fear and betrayal gripped Sascha around the throat. Nikita had to know what was wrong with her daughter, had to have seen her before she’d been old enough to conceal her mind. Yet she was giving advice that could lead to Sascha’s exposure. Did she suspect how far her offspring had gone from the accepted Psy path?

Are you sure that’s necessary? she asked. It appears to be a minor problem.

As the head of the Duncan household, I received a notice from Medical noting your lack of physical examinations since you reached adulthood. Nikita’s tone didn’t change but Sascha thought she heard a thread of warning. It might be politic to get a scan done before they pull you up for a random check.

Her relief was almost crushing. Whatever else she might be doing, at least Nikita wasn’t trying to serve her daughter up to the authorities. It wasn’t much but it was something. I’ll do it as soon as possible.

You haven’t reported on the DarkRiver project for a couple of—She paused. I have to go. Something’s just gone wrong with two of the main information relay points. Things are already becoming gridlocked. With that, Nikita’s mind was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Sascha felt the information backing up on the Net and breathed a sigh of relief. Sienna and Judd had come through. Every Psy surfing the Net in this location would be streaming toward those points, looking to fix the damage before it cascaded into chaos.

Likely, they’d already fixed it, but the backlog would take hours to clear. In the tumult, her odd signature would hopefully gain no real attention… except from one very dangerous Psy.

These things were thought by the hidden part of her that was a fountaining rainbow inside unbreakable walls. Outside those walls, she was cool and remote, protecting herself from disclosure even when most people, including Psy, would’ve considered themselves safe.

A whisper of violence swept by her. Every one of her senses screamed and she felt the rough edge of a growl in the back of her throat. Lucas’s personality was alpha, too strong. It shouldn’t have been coming through this clearly but it was and she had to use it. Thinking quickly, she merged the anger into the tendrils of thought going out into the Net. These women would have the capacity for anger. Anger was a kind of passion.

Her race had tried to delete anger, rage, hate, but they hadn’t understood that anger could spring from deep love, the most complete need to protect. Lucas was furious because she was putting herself at risk, enraged at the thought of her being hurt. There was nothing evil about those emotions. They were so pure they burned.

Unlike the emotions now coming slowly closer. This violence was sly, cunning in the way of jackals or vultures. Most Psy probably never understood why this outwardly “normal” mind made them slightly uncomfortable, because most Psy no longer had the ability to recognize evil, even if it stood right in front of them. What a perfect hiding ground for a killer, Sascha realized.

The scent of rotting malevolence abruptly stopped approaching and then disappeared altogether. She frowned. Had the murderer been scared off? A second later, she felt another familiar presence and almost cursed. Enrique’s cardinal blaze was obvious a mile away. No wonder the killer had run.

She wanted to scream in frustration. Something deep within her flexed its claws and it felt good. Right at that instant, she itched to tear into Enrique’s interfering arrogance, arrogance that might cost Brenna her life.

He didn’t contact her when he reached her, not seeing her presence on the Net. Instead, he examined the manufactured flaw with the utmost care. Sascha wondered whether he even understood what he was looking at.

She’d have suspected him for the murderer, except that she knew there was no emotion in Enrique. None. Even for the Psy, he was the coldest creature she’d ever met. Nothing in her empathy reacted to him. That, she realized at last, was why he’d constantly rubbed her raw.

Her mother was cold, but Sascha’s senses had always picked up a low-level emotional feedback from her, as they did from other Psy. Her race might’ve buried their emotions but they were there. In Enrique’s case, there was nothing to indicate he’d ever had the capacity to feel.

“Sascha.” A polite telepathic page.

She became the mask. “Sir.”

“Your shield is fractured.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ve already begun repairing it. It isn’t anything major.” So why had the Councilor bothered to tell her about it? Her mother, she could understand. Nikita had a vested interest in ensuring Sascha’s secret never got out—it would undermine her own position.

Which made Sascha wonder why she’d been allowed to live in the first place. Wouldn’t it have been simpler to terminate her once it had been discovered that she was flawed? Or were not even the Psy capable of killing their young? Then she remembered Marlee and Toby and that hope collapsed.

“You have some very unusual thought patterns.”