Hostage to Pleasure

Dorian didn’t argue with her decision—kids were the most precious aspect of Pack. But that didn’t mean he was going to forget the teasing threat he’d made outside. The guilt, the anger, none of it was enough to stop him—Ashaya Aleine was going to be his. “I can pack up your stuff, bring it to you.” He could play very nice when he was in the mood.

She gave him a suspicious look. “No. It’s better if Keenan doesn’t come to expect me here all the time. Just in case—”

He kissed her without warning, taking his time with those full, bitable lips that drove him crazy. “You’d better start trusting me to keep you safe,” he said against her kiss-wet mouth, “or I don’t know what my bruised ego will make me do.” It came out not as a warning, but as a promise.

He intended to further her education in the care and feeding of the male ego at the apartment, but when they arrived, it was to find Faith waiting at the top of the stairs, fingers plucking at the ends of the green silk scarf she’d used to pull back her hair. Vaughn lounged by the doorway, back against the wall.

Dorian moved smoothly in front of Ashaya. “What are you two doing here?” While Vaughn was a good friend, Dorian’s relationship with Faith was a little more problematic.

“I wanted to talk to you,” the cardinal Psy said, biting her lower lip. “And Ashaya.”

Protectiveness gripped his throat. “This is meant to be a safe location. You could’ve led someone here.”

“Don’t insult me,” Vaughn said, not changing his relaxed stance despite the aggression Dorian knew he was giving off. “We weren’t followed. Even if I had gone senile and lost the ability to spot a tail, I have a mate who’s real good at seeing threats in our future.”

Dorian’s eyes flicked to Faith and he caught the gentle plea in her distinctive night-sky gaze. He and Faith had a silent understanding. F-Psy had stopped forecasting anything but money and economics over a hundred years ago. Perhaps if they hadn’t, Kylie would still be alive. But Faith was doing what her brethren wouldn’t, opening her mind to a future as filled with nightmares as happiness. For that, she’d earned his respect.

He moved up the steps, but continued to keep Ashaya behind him, very aware of her unusual quietness. Vaughn tended to have that effect on those who didn’t know him. The jaguar couldn’t pull off harmless, not like Dorian. Vaughn looked lethal even when he was playing with strands of Faith’s dark red hair, his lips curved in possessive satisfaction.

“I thought the flirting happened before the mating,” Dorian said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He nudged Ashaya through.

“Then I pity your mate,” Vaughn let Faith’s hair slide out of his hands, but tangled his fingers with hers. “I can give you lessons in romance if you’d like.”

Dorian snorted at the same time that Faith gave a disbelieving laugh. “And where have you been learning these lessons?” she asked in an arch tone at odds with her smile.

“From you, Red, who else?” Teasing grin slashing across his face, Vaughn followed Dorian and Faith into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind himself.

Ashaya was already in the kitchenette, heating water. “Coffee would probably be a good idea,” she said, looking not at him but at Faith.

The F-Psy let go of her mate’s hands, stared back. “You know.”

“No.” A quick shake of her head. “But when an F-Psy comes calling, it’s better to be prepared. You’re Faith NightStar, aren’t you?”

As Faith nodded and introduced Vaughn, Dorian wondered if the other couple heard what he did in Ashaya’s voice—a fine thread of suffocating panic. Closing the distance between them, he put a hand on her lower back. “Want some help?” Protective instincts clawed through his veins. It should’ve been an unwelcome shock. It wasn’t. It felt right.

“No.” A stubborn answer, but when she looked up, he saw the truth. She was terrified.

He caught Vaughn’s eye. There was no way to have a private conversation with the other sentinel in the room—his hearing was too acute.

“Mind if we go out onto the balcony?” Vaughn was already opening the French doors that led out to the tiny outdoor area.

Dorian threw him a grateful look, knowing that once the doors were shut, the noise from the streets below would drown out his and Ashaya’s voices. The instant the other couple stepped out, he forced Ashaya to look at him. “Now talk or I’ll have to get mean.”

“You’re always mean.” Despite the words, she came into his arms without any hesitation, displaying a trust that tamed the leopard.

“Hey.” He found he’d curved his body over hers, his lips brushing her temple. “Knowing the future means you can change it.”