Hostage to Pleasure

“I don’t know if I want to with you growling at me.”


His hands clenched. “Sugar, I’m this close to tearing off your clothes and teaching you exactly how badly I take you keeping secrets from me. Your choice. Talk or get naked.”

Ashaya felt her throat dry up. “You won’t hurt me.”

“No. But I bet I can make you whimper.”

Her thighs pressed together and she knew he was right. Part of her, the part that had been fascinated with Dorian since the moment she first heard his voice, was tempted to taunt him until he made good on his promise. However, right now she needed to keep her wits about her. “Amara is Keenan’s biological mother. Both the level of his intelligence and his lack of a fail-safe switch come from her. But I’m his mother in every way that counts.”

“I’m not arguing.” His tone had smoothed out a little, but the growl was still there, under the surface. “What I don’t get is—you were both in the Council substructure. How could anyone not know which one of you was pregnant?”

“We’re so identical that people—and even Psy are prone to this failing—often mixed us up. Not only that, but we worked in the same lab, on the same projects. We made the decision early, and it wasn’t hard to imitate one another once the pregnancy began showing. Those months, I allowed Amara to shadow my mind and vice versa.” It had been worth every painful second. “We did get lucky once—when they tied my tubes. Since physical injury wasn’t the point, the medics used noninvasive keyhole surgery.” If they had opened Ashaya up, there was a good chance her body would’ve given her away.

Dorian grabbed the bag as she closed the last flap. “Come on—you can tell me the rest on the way.” He headed downstairs and out to the car.

Nate and Tammy watched them drive off, the senior sentinel standing with his mate in the circle of his arms. I want that, Dorian thought. A family. His mate safe with him. His child sleeping within hearing distance.

But at this precise second, he was well beyond annoyed with said mate. “What was the trigger for the swap?” he said as he pulled out onto the main road.

“Don’t. Growl. At. Me.”

He hadn’t even realized he was making the angry sound. “Talk.”

Her back stiffened but she answered, speaking so fast he could barely separate out the words. “Amara used her own eggs and donor sperm to create an embryo, which she then infected with a disease. She intended to kill the fetus when it was born and dissect sections of its brain to study the progress of that infection.”

The horror of it stunned Dorian. It took him several minutes to fight past the clawing protectiveness of the cat. “She intended to kill her own child?” Kill Keenan.

“I told you,” Ashaya said, voice trembling with a mix of anger and anguish, “Amara doesn’t really see people as people. The only person she’s ever seen as human is me—and until Keenan, I was able to keep her from crossing the line into murder.”

He tried to wrap his mind around the sheer weight of that responsibility and couldn’t. How the hell had Ashaya survived? “Can’t have been easy.”

“Actually, it was,” she said to his surprise. “She’s a sociopath, but she has no desire to kill for the sake of it. She is, in fact, the perfect scientist in her capacity to be completely impartial, and science is her life. All I had to do was keep an eye out to make sure she was being given work that challenged her.” A shaky breath. “But this time, the science was going to lead to death. I knew I’d kill her before I allowed her to harm the baby. Except . . .”

He shook his head. “I understand that it must be hell to even consider killing your twin, but women have a way of being feral about their cubs. You’re no different. Why is Amara still alive?”

“Don’t you see, Dorian?” A shattered whisper. “For better or worse, she is his biological mother.” The words were like hidden grenades, blowing up in his face. “She’s the reason he exists—how could I steal her child and then get rid of her? How could I go to my son with his mother’s blood on my hands?”

The emotional knives kept twisting deeper, harder. “So you somehow convinced her to give up maternal rights? How?”

“I had to speak to her on her level.” An unflinching answer, a leopardess fighting for her cub. “I had to pretend I understood and accepted what she’d done. I talked her into making it a long-term experiment. She said it would be far too much work, but I said I’d take care of the long-term part.”

“The infection—oh, Jesus. Omega?” It was such a vile thought the cat refused to believe it could be the truth.

“In a sense.” A calm tone, but her hands were trembling so hard he saw her grab hold of one with the other to immobilize it.

Dorian let out a slow breath. “Does the Council know?”