SLAVE TO SENSATION

Sascha smiled at the thought of Julian and Roman’s mischievous welcome. “Telepathy is a base skill necessary for survival.” Otherwise, the uplink to the Net couldn’t be created or maintained. “All Psy have it to at least 1.0 on the Gradient. However, I have telepathy to approximately 3.5 on the Gradient, telekinetic powers to around 2.2, and whispers of some of the other powers to no real level.”


“You’re a cardinal.” Lucas squeezed her tight, obviously seeing through the smile to the pain she’d tried to hide. “That means you have a great deal of power.”

She shook her head. “No, it means I have the potential for a great deal of power. Cardinals are uniformly over 10.0 on the Gradient in their particular specialty—no one’s been able to figure out a way to measure them past that. Not that measurement is necessary to figure out whether someone is a cardinal.” Her eyes had marked her from birth.

“In my case the potential was never unlocked.” Trying not to let them see how much it mattered to her, she shrugged. “According to Mother, it shouldn’t have stopped me rising to the Council ranks but I think she meant to help me.” Help by icily controlled murder. “Eventually she stopped mentioning that possibility. We both knew I’d never be powerful enough to survive at that level.”

Tamsyn pushed off Nate and started to pace across the carpet. Her mate looked on, bemused. “I’m no Psy, Sascha, but I can feel your power same as I can feel Lucas’s.”

Sascha tipped her head to the side. “I’m not sure . . .”

“The Psy think we can’t read them but some of us can.” Tamsyn dropped the bombshell with a feline smile. “Ask Lucas.”

She found him wearing that same smile. “Tell me.”

“So demanding.” It was a growl but there was mischief in his eyes. “Whenever you use Psy power, I know. Not only that, I can read spikes in Psy activity. And you, kitten, are no Gradient 3 in anything.”

“Impossible.” She scowled. “I’ve barely been using any Psy power since you’ve known me. What I have used, like when I pushed you telekinetically, has been very low level. You can’t be reading the spikes right.”

Leaning forward, he nipped her lower lip. “That was for the push.”

She made a face. “Watch out or I’ll use some of my transmutation powers—I have enough to turn your hair green.” It was a bluff but she got to see Lucas’s eyes narrow in warning as he debated whether she was serious.

“You have power,” Tamsyn muttered, interrupting them. “Maybe you’re an E-Psy like your great-grandmother. Maybe being an E-Psy is no longer allowed, so they categorize you as nonspecialized and bang it into you that you have no power to speak of. Tell someone a lie often enough and they’ll start to believe it, even to the extent of handicapping themselves.”

Sascha’s eyes widened. “When I was a child undergoing training, the instructors always told me I had so much potential, and that it was such a pity it was blocked.”

Lucas suddenly rose in a startlingly fast movement, destroying her train of thought.

“What—” She found her feet as he set her down.

“Quiet.” Nate’s head jerked toward the front yard.

Lucas’s body was a study in silent danger. “Where are Vaughn and Clay?”

“Out back.” Nate prowled to stand beside Lucas. “Tammy, get Sascha out of here.”

“I’m not leaving. This is my fight, too.”

Lucas whipped her a blazing green look. “Actually it’s not. That’s the SnowDancers out there. Tammy.”

The healer crossed the room and took Sascha’s arm. “Come on. Lucas won’t be able to concentrate if you’re nearby.” It was an almost inaudible whisper.

Sascha felt the protective fury in him and knew Tamsyn was right. Frustrated but unwilling to endanger him, she followed the other woman out of the living room and to one of the windowless upstairs bedrooms.

They encountered Dorian in the hallway, a sleek presence dressed head to toe in black. He put a finger to his lips and jerked his head for them to keep going. Sascha froze as she felt the lethal anger coming off him, so dangerous it threatened everything and everyone in its path.

“Come on.” Tamsyn tugged at her arm.

Dorian scowled and motioned for her to go. Sascha forced herself to start moving again. The sentinel’s deep anger wasn’t something she could fix, not when he seemed determined to nurture it.

She turned to Tamsyn the second they were behind the solid wooden door of the bedroom. “How can you stand this? Being shut away safe while they might not be?”

“I’m the healer. It does no one any good if I die. I fight my battles after they’ve fought theirs.” Intense emotion overlaid her every word.

“At least you get to fight. They should’ve let me help—I have enough Tk and Tp powers to cause some mayhem.”

“There might not be any need for violence. The wolves have a pact with us.” Tamsyn didn’t sound too convinced of her own argument. “I’ve been thinking of something.”