Hostage to Pleasure

“I’ve never feared emotion for its own sake,” she whispered, “only for what it would mean—Amara’s deviance being set completely free, perhaps leading to both our deaths. But today, I’m afraid and I wish I could erase that feeling from my mind.”


He thought of the carnage he’d seen in a small white house, the body he’d held in his arms. “I know.” Because he’d had those same thoughts. “After Kylie was murdered,” he said, tearing open a piece of his heart that he’d protected with feral viciousness, “I was so angry the rage ate me up from the inside out.” His recollection of those days was a foul pit filled with hatred and violence. “But I never wanted to be without emotion. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because if I wiped out emotion, I wiped out Kylie.” His arms clenched around her, the embers of his deep-seated anger stirring anew. He’d torn out Santano Enrique’s heart with his bare hands, but his leopard wasn’t satisfied. So long as even one of those who had allowed Enrique to roam free remained alive, he would hunt. “Our emotions color our memories. Without them, one day would be the same as another . . . and my sister would’ve faded long ago.”

Finally relaxing her hold, Ashaya backed up a little, those amazing eyes holding him in thrall. “You should hear your voice when you speak of her. It hurts my heart and I know that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is. You know love when you hear it.” He’d adored Kylie, had no problem admitting that. “And she lives right here.” He thumped a fist over the pulse of his heartbeat.

“Dorian.” Her hand lifted as if she’d touch him, but then she shook her head and turned. “I need to prepare the coffee.”

He should’ve kept his hands to himself. He wasn’t much good at doing what he should. And he needed a little joy to alleviate the chaos of emotion that always came with thoughts of his murdered sister—maybe someday he’d stop blaming himself for not saving her, but that day wasn’t today.

Putting his hands on Ashaya’s hips, he pulled her back against his chest.

“Dor—”

He kissed the curve of her neck. “Just want to give you a friendly warning.” She tasted so good, he licked at her with quick catlike flicks that made her pulse turn to thunder. When she couldn’t seem to gasp in enough breath to ask him about the warning, he smiled. “I wasn’t kidding about having you in my bed. Get ready to dance with me.” Pressing another kiss to the soft warmth of her, he drew back to his previous position.

It took her a minute to stop staring at his mouth after she turned to face him again. “You’re used to getting your own way.”

“So?”

“So now you look like you want to take a bite out of me.”

He let his eyes close to half-mast, his lips curving into a slow smile. “That’s because I do.” Delighted by the flush that brushed over her cheeks, he decided to indulge himself a little more. “I want to have you flat on your back in my bed. Then I want to spread your thighs, and—”

“Coffee!” She gripped the edge of the counter. “It’ll be ready soon.”

“Oh?” Disappointed, he leaned forward and nipped lightly at her ear. “I’ll tell you where I intend to take that bite out of some other time then.” Leaving her flustered but definitely not scared any longer, he walked to the balcony doors and gave Vaughn the signal to return. There was a momentary rush of noise from outside as the mated pair entered.

A few minutes later, Ashaya put the coffee on the low table in the center of the room and took a seat on the sofa that faced the balcony, while he leaned on its back. Faith took a seat on the opposite sofa, with Vaughn sprawled beside her.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” Faith asked when Ashaya didn’t pour herself any coffee.

Ashaya shook her head. “I’m not used to it and it tends to have a strong effect.”

“I understand.” Faith took two cups, passing one to her mate. “I’ve become addicted to the stuff but it’s far more potent than I initially realized.” Her words were friendly, but there was a jerkiness to her movements that gave away her unease.

“Whatever it is you’ve seen,” Ashaya said, her tone a fraction too calm, as if she was barely keeping herself together, “just tell me. I’d rather know than imagine.”

Faith’s hands shook as she put her near-full cup on the table. Vaughn, holding his in his left hand, curved his right arm around her waist. “I had a vision,” she began, “but it was one of those where it’s impossible to tell when the event might take place . . . or whether it might already have done so.”

“Backsight,” Ashaya said. “Someone in my extended family tree was born with a low-Gradient ability in that specialty.”

Dorian stared at the back of her neck, itching to touch her again, finish what he’d started in the kitchen. It went against every one of his instincts to fight the urge, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not when she was trying to present such an unruffled facade. She was so damn good at it, it annoyed the leopard. The trapped creature inside of him didn’t like being ignored.