Hostage to Pleasure

Ashaya didn’t look away from Tammy’s direct gaze. “He’s only dangerous to himself. His telepathy is strong, but nowhere near strong enough to break changeling shields.”


Tammy nodded. “Fine. But I’m going to wait for someone I trust to confirm that. Right now, he hasn’t interacted enough with Sascha for her to make the call.”

“Of course.” Ashaya sounded so cool and collected that if Dorian hadn’t seen her curled around Keenan today, he’d have believed she didn’t care a whit. And he wouldn’t have heard the fury buried beneath the politeness.

Ashaya did not like her son being treated as if he might be a danger to others. Dorian couldn’t blame her. Neither, he knew, would Tammy. Protectiveness in a mother was expected. They’d just never thought to see it in one of the Psy. Not after the way Sascha’s mother, Councilor Nikita Duncan, had cut her off.

“Kit”—Dorian jerked his head toward the lounge—“go make sure Keenan’s okay.”

“He’s fine.” Kit watched Ashaya with barely hidden fascination—he’d clearly picked up too much in that short visit upstairs. Dorian wasn’t surprised. Not only did Kit carry the scent of a future alpha, he was very close to having his rank shift officially from juvenile to adult. “I checked on him a minute ago.”

Dorian didn’t say a word.

“Shit,” the tall, auburn-haired male said and walked out, mumbling “I never get to hear anything interesting” under his breath.

Tammy’s lips curved slightly after he was gone. “He’s turning into a wonderful young man, but sometimes the child shows through.”

“At least he has the excuse of being in his teens,” Ashaya said so primly that it took Dorian a few seconds to realize she was referring to him and his “mood swings.”

His eyes narrowed, but the cat was delighted at what it considered “play.” “Tammy needs to know what you told me about Keenan.”

For a moment, it looked as if she’d refuse. But then she nodded and complied. “If this ever happens again, and I’m out of contact, get one of the Psy in your pack to do a telepathic blast. It’s a very loud noise on the psychic plane. Or”—she paused, glanced at Dorian—“you could shake him awake via whatever network it is that he’s linked into.”

Dorian shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Keenan is no longer in the PsyNet,” she said. “Psy need biofeedback to survive. Which means—since he’s alive and well—that you’ve found an alternate way to feed his mind, just as your pack feeds Sascha’s and Faith’s minds.” Her words were staccato, perfectly enunciated. “You’re lying to me.”

Dorian stepped closer, until they were toe to toe. “So?”

She blinked, as if caught by surprise. “So don’t treat me like an imbecile.”

“Then don’t ask questions to which you haven’t earned an answer.” Ashaya might love her son, but too many questions remained. It was one thing for him to kiss her, quite another to trust her with information that could be used to hurt the pack. Especially when she kept her secrets. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming, Ms. Aleine.”

“Why would I want to share anything with a man who yells at me twenty-three hours of every day, then kisses me?”

A pointed cough had him snapping his head toward Tamsyn. The DarkRiver healer’s face held open interest. He felt his jaw set. “Leave it,” he said, turning on his heel and pulling out his cell phone at the same time. “I’ll call and reschedule Ashaya’s meeting.” He pushed through the back door, heading out into the yard.

Leave it, he’d said to Tammy. But he knew she wouldn’t. Pack was family. But it was also a pain in the ass sometimes. Hell, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening with him and Ashaya. He didn’t need anyone else pointing that out. Nor did he need their censure.

Not when Kylie’s ghost berated him with every breath he took.

I’ve protected a sociopath for most of my life.

Yeah, he knew exactly how big a mess this was.



Ashaya looked across the counter to the tall brunette who’d been taking care of her son. “Thank you for what you’ve done for Keenan.”

“He’s a child,” came the response. “There was no other choice.”

“Even when he might be a child who could hurt your own?”

The woman named Tamsyn walked to the eco-cooler and pulled out a gallon of milk. “I don’t think Keenan would do anything on purpose. Like my cubs would never seek to use their claws and teeth to maul a human playmate. That doesn’t change the fact that they do have those claws and teeth.” Putting the milk on the counter, she went to grab containers of cereal as well as a loaf of bread.

“He has control,” Ashaya argued. “My son has more control than any child his age should have.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” Tamsyn put several bowls and spoons on the counter. “Could you set the table?”