Hostage to Pleasure

Amara threw the glass beaker against the wall and watched the liquid dribble down the white surface without seeing anything.

“Sir?”

She glanced at Keishon Talbot, her assistant, and probable spy for Ming LeBon. “Get out before I kill you.”

The other woman left without a word.

Amara threw another beaker, her mind chaotic. Ashaya had done something. The link between them, the one that nothing could break, it was getting weaker. It had always shifted in strength—from background noise to a pure telepathic bond when they both focused. But it was always there, easy to pick up from either end.

Not now.

Something was interfering with the transmission—Amara didn’t know how that was even possible. She considered all the parameters and came to the logical conclusion: he was the cause. The intruder. He had to be destroyed.

Calm descended with the decision.

She stepped over the broken glass on the floor and headed outside—though the psychic link between her and Ashaya was erratic, it was enough to lead Amara to her twin. The guards would try to stop her, of course. But they thought of her as a polite, controlled M-Psy, like Ashaya. Of course, Ashaya had never actually been controlled, either, but that was their secret.

She picked up several loaded pressure injectors as she walked.





CHAPTER 35


Clay lets you get away with far too much, Ms. Smart-Ass. My mate is going to adore me so much, she’ll do everything I say.



—Dorian Christensen in a text message to Talin McKade, six weeks ago





Is he infectious?

“I won’t let anyone touch him,” Dorian promised Ashaya, “and the pack will stand by you.” As he’d stood by their mates and children. “But we need to know.”

“To catch it from him,” Ashaya said, her voice thick, “you’d have to cut him open and ingest sections of his brain tissue. Amara got that idea from an obscure New Guinean prion disease called kuru. She tinkered with the protein until ingestion was the only method of transmission—she didn’t want anyone to be able to steal her research.”

Unable to put the car on automatic, he reached out and tangled the fingers of one hand with hers. “Is he terminal?”

“No.” To his amazement, her face lit up. “Keenan is absolutely, utterly healthy and he’ll stay that way. I don’t know what Amara did to him in the test tube, but Dorian, he’s a miracle . . . he has antibodies in his blood.”

He wasn’t a scientist. It took him a second. “He holds the answer to a cure for all prion diseases.” Hard on the heels of that joyful realization came another, darker one. “He’s also the key the Council needs to unleash Omega.” It was a truth they could never be allowed to discover.

Ashaya nodded. “Amara has no idea about the antibodies—I sabotaged her tests. But no matter what, I knew it would come down to her or him.” Her eyes met his and in them he saw a heartbreaking decision, the bloody protectiveness of a mother winning out over the ties of a bond formed before birth. “Age five was the point at which she planned to dissect his brain.”

Jesus. “You were racing a deadline from day one.”

“Yes, at first. Then two and a half years ago, when Ming began to pay her too much attention and she went underground, I thought he was safe.”

“But she didn’t forget him,” he guessed.

A jerky shake of the head. “She considers him the first step in her most important piece of work.”

Her fingers were clenching around his hard enough to bruise. She was, he realized, barely keeping it together. “You want to talk about something else for a while?” He wasn’t up to subtlety at the moment, but he needed to take care of her.

She grabbed on to the offered escape with desperate quickness. “Yes.”

“How about my abnormal DNA?” he teased, though the cat was still snarling in protective fury. “Have you fixed me?”

“I’m working on it.” Her fingers relaxed as she found her footing in science.

His leopard growled in pleased approval. Ashaya’s internal strength was a thing of beauty. Yet she’d let him soothe her. It was as much a caress to his predator’s soul as if she’d curled those long, talented fingers around him.

That was all it took.

Sexual heat was suddenly a talon inside him, his beast one step closer to animal savagery. “Tell me.” Letting her go, he squeezed both hands around the steering wheel in a vain effort to stop the primitive fury of his reaction. He’d waited too long, and now his cat was no longer giving him a choice. Either he coaxed Ashaya into melting for him in every way . . . or he got the hell away from her. And right now, there was no damn way he was going to leave her unprotected.