Hostage to Pleasure

“Oh, Jesus, fine.” She rolled her eyes, cheeks a little pink. “It’s weirding me out because now that you’re mated, it takes care of the last male in the pack with the same or stronger dominance as me. I don’t want you. But it was nice knowing that at least one strong male was unmated.” Mercy had honestly never had the hots for Dorian. He was undeniably pretty, but he was her friend and colleague. End of story.

Now he blinked those surfer blue eyes. “Huh. Yeah, guess I never thought about that. I don’t suppose you like BDSM?”

“What?”

“You know, you could crack the whip—” He didn’t even try to avoid her second careful punch on his shoulder, he was laughing so hard. When he finally caught his breath, he grabbed her hand and tugged her close. “There are other packs, you know. You could ask Luc to arrange a short transfer.”

Mercy had considered that. While predatory packs were very territorial, the sort of transfer Dorian was talking about did happen now and then. “I can’t. Not now. The situation with the Psy is too unstable.”

Dorian grunted in agreement. “I’ll buy you a blow-up doll. I’m sure my mate won’t mind when I explain how hard up you are.”

She didn’t bother to punch him this time, just glared with promise of future retaliation. “Very funny. You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew how sexually frustrated I am right now.” Changelings needed touch on a fundamental level. The problem was, Mercy didn’t particularly enjoy sex with men who weren’t equal to or stronger than her in the ways that mattered to changelings. “The last time was when that SilverBlade sentinel was in town for a communications meeting.”

All amusement left Dorian’s face. “You serious? That was months ago.” A very long time to go without intimate touch. “Merce, that could get dangerous.”

“I know. Do you think I don’t know?” She thrust her hands through her hair. “Damn it, Dorian! It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to wonder if some of the wolves would be good in bed.” That was a lie—her recent slew of incredibly erotic fantasies hadn’t focused on SnowDancer males in general, but on one very specific wolf. Not that she would admit that. To anyone.

“Cat and wolf isn’t a . . . um . . . normal combination.”

“And Psy and cat is?” She made a face at him. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Cat and wolf is strange.” But the SnowDancer dominants were tough sons of bitches, part of a very small pool of men who might take her on and survive. And the one she was thinking about . . . No. Absolutely not. Never. Ever.

“How about one of the Rats?” Dorian’s eyes gleamed.

She narrowed her own. “Cat and rat. Har-dee-har-har.”

“It would definitely give a whole new meaning to the term ‘black widow.’ ” He hugged her before she could kick him, his body shaking with laughter.

She hugged him back, so damn glad he was alive to tease her. “I’ll get you back for that later, being that you’re an invalid right now.” Pulling back after another few moments, she nudged him toward Ashaya and walked out, closing the door behind herself.

She just missed seeing Ashaya open her eyes.



Ashaya had woken to the sound of Dorian’s laughter and a woman’s voice. She found herself tensing up, though she didn’t know why. The words came into focus slowly, but by the time Dorian mentioned rats, she was fully conscious and aware that everyone who belonged to her was safe. Mate. Child. Twin.

Dorian’s laughter wrapped around her as she looked into her mind and found Keenan. His star shone bright in this strange, wonderful web that was her new home. When she contacted him through it, he said, “Sascha said you were sleeping.” It was a whisper. “You slept a lot. Days and days. But I could see you in the Web, so I wasn’t scared.”

“I’m awake now, baby.” She let all her love for him color her voice. “I’ll come see you soon.”

“I’ve got lots and lots and lots to tell you.” He sounded excited. “I have friends. Ben’s a wolf and Tally brought Noor to play, too. I’m going to marry Noor one day. And Ben’s gonna mate with Marlee even if she is bigger than he is.”

Ashaya’s heart smiled to hear her son sound like a child. Behind her, Amara lay sleeping but uninjured. And Dorian . . . Dorian was alive.

She opened her eyes.

Her gaze met his. His smile slipped away, to be replaced by a look of such intense emotion that she felt it as a touch. Impossible . . . except that he was in her heart now, the bond between them a brilliant, golden beacon.

It scared her a little, the depth of this fury.

“It would’ve been easier,” she whispered.

“What would?” He stayed beside the bed, as if he was content to simply watch her.

She felt embraced by his eyes, stroked by his soul. “If you’d fallen in love with Mercy.”

A slow smile. “She’s too mean.”

It made her smile, too. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Aw, come on.” That smile softened, his eyes filling with the chaos in her own heart. “You almost died for me.”

She saw the frown lines forming, cut him off. “No, Dorian. You don’t get to be angry at me.”