Hostage to Pleasure

Dorian had decided to keep being rational—hell, he wasn’t going to throw away the miracle of his mate and child—but his cat wouldn’t settle, even though it appeared that Ashaya was now untouchable as far as the Council was concerned. In fact, according to Anthony, the Council was actively protecting her, and had even reined in Pure Psy on the matter.

The irony of it might’ve been rich had Dorian’s cat not been so aggravated at having been cheated of a target on which to vent its rage. Dorian had always known he was a little more leopard than other changelings in human form—his cat seeking to get out whatever way it could—but he’d expected the savage nature of his need to lessen after mating.

It had only gotten worse—as if the cat knew it would never be stroked by its mate, never be admired as was its right, never even be seen by the woman who was everything to it. The leopard was dying a little each day and all that distressed anger was now being channeled into a pounding need to blame someone.

His meeting with Anthony Kyriakus didn’t help matters. The rebel Councilor was blunt in his choice of words. “Ashaya needs to stay out of the limelight. Anything she does from here on out would just put her in danger, while contributing nothing to the cause.”

“Because she feels?” He barely kept his tone civil.

“Yes.” Eyes of cool brown met his. “Silence is beginning to crumble at the edges, but the ones who’ve broken the chains make our imprisoned state far too obvious—people aren’t ready to see the truth, to go out into the unfamiliar darkness.”

Dorian looked at Anthony, and wondered at the strength it took to play the double-edged game the other man had been playing for longer than any of them knew. “So, they’re all safe?”

“Yes. Amara’s been written off—she was already unstable and if they get a chance to hit her, they will. But she’s not an active target.”

“Keenan?”

“Was only useful as a way to control Ashaya. He’s not a uniquely powerful Psy in his own right, and no one seems particularly concerned about what happened to him.”

Dorian’s hackles lowered. “Thanks for the intel.”

Anthony gave a slight nod. “If I ever find out who ordered the hit, I’ll tell you.”

“Good. I can’t wait to tear his heart from his chest.” Even if it took years, Dorian would finish this. Patience was simply another side of stubborn, and Dorian had stubborn in spades.

But now, as he stood outside the cabin while Ashaya and Keenan slept inside—Ashaya in his bed, Keenan up above in a hastily but carefully erected addition to his home—his cat was anything but patient. It wanted to make someone pay. For being trapped, for being unable to protect its mate, for being goddamn latent. Claws shoved inside his fingernails, cutting and tearing. But never coming out. It fucking hurt. Until the pain and the anger left him unable to think.

And then the enticing scent of wild honey and woman heat wrapped around him. An instant later, he felt Ashaya’s cheek press into his bare back as her arms slid around to lie palms down over his chest. The man leaned back into her hold and even the cat settled a little under the petting. The pain faded.

“This bond,” she said, “it’s so deep, I can hear you in my heart.”

Smiling, he put his own hands over hers. “Good.”

Lips on his skin, soft, gentle, possessive. “No more blood, Dorian.” A whisper. An order. “The need for vengeance in you—it’s destructive.”

He turned to tip up her chin. “It’s who I am. The cat wants retribution.”

“No,” she said, passion in her eyes, “you’re a beautiful, charming, dangerous leopard. But you’re not ugly in your anger. I’ll allow you to keep us safe—I won’t get in the way of that—but if you begin to obsess over this until it burns a hole in your psyche”—she stabbed a finger into his chest—“I’ll tie you up and teach you exactly what an angry M-Psy can do to the man she loves.”

He blinked, taken completely by surprise. The leopard, too, was chastened enough to retreat from trying to dig its way out of Dorian’s skin. “Shaya—”

“No.” She kissed him. And kept doing it until he groaned and thrust his hand into those incredible curls of hers. “Enough,” she said. “The threats have all been neutralized.”

Something niggled at him, something he’d seen. A flicker of an image—a dark car with opaque windows. “I’m not sure that’s—”

She nipped at his lower lip, breaking his train of thought. “Forget vengeance. It’s time for us to learn each other.”

He retaliated with a kiss that left her breathless. “I already know you.” In his heart, in his core, to the depths of his changeling soul. “I just want to play with you now.” It was another kind of bonding, a kind that spoke to the cat even as it seduced the man. Maybe it would even be enough to heal the leopard’s broken heart.

“Why are you sad, Dorian?”

He couldn’t lie to her. “The leopard wants you to see it.”