VISIONS OF HEAT

The knowing, when it came, was quiet, silent, like the male beside her. Dorian. Broken, shattered Dorian would one day be whole. And in a way not even he could imagine. She saw him clearly in her mind’s eye, a beautiful leopard with dark facial markings and, in this form, eyes more green than blue.

The knowing drifted away and she wondered whether to share it with him. It hadn’t been a true vision as such, had told her no specifics. But he’d been older. Not old, but at least two or three years older than he was now. What if she told him and then the future changed because of some act of his or another’s? A false hope. She made the hard decision to keep the knowing to herself. Sometimes, Silence was the right choice. It was only when it wasn’t a choice that it turned into a cage.

“I heard you lost your sister.”

She’d gotten so used to his quietness that she was surprised into a soft gasp. “Marine. Her name was Marine.”

“My sister’s name was Kylie.”

Their eyes met and she understood. He’d try to forgive her for being what she was, if she’d try to never let another sister die. “Yes.”





Vaughn returned to Faith about three hours before dawn. From the coffee on the table and the alert expressions on their faces, he could see that neither she nor Sascha had slept. When he appeared, Faith stood and came to him. Nobody said a word as he took her hand and they exited the lair for the second time that night, leaving Lucas with his mate.

They covered the distance to the car in silence. It had been cleaned of explosives by Dorian, but Vaughn did another check before opening the passenger door for Faith. The cat continued to monitor the area for threats—he wouldn’t breathe easy until they were back in his personal territory.

The drive took almost another hour, but neither of them was in any mood for sleep at the end of it. Faith didn’t ask any questions, didn’t demand any answers, just watched as he showered, then stripped and joined him under the flow of water. He felt her worry.

“It was done without any problems,” he told her. “They never knew we were there.”

“Nikita Duncan’s residence?”

“And a few others connected to the Council at the highest levels.” He’d had to fight the urge to go in and crush some more Psy skulls when he’d made his delivery.

“I could feel that you weren’t hurt or in danger.”

“Good.” He wanted her to get used to the bond, had no problem with her utilizing it to see if he was okay. That’s what mates did. He couldn’t see the bond as she did, but he could feel it in a way that had no explanation—if she were ever hurt or in trouble, he’d know.

She went quiet again. He walked them out of the shower and dried them both. When he carried her to the bed, she didn’t protest. And when he claimed her in the most physical way, she gave him her surrender. Afterward, they lay intertwined, watching dawn infiltrate the room on slender beams of light.

Faith moved to rest with her cheek against his chest, her hand over his heart. And then she cried. He stroked her hair and her back, not knowing how else to comfort her. But what he did know was that these hot, wet raindrops had nothing to do with him. He enclosed her in his arms and the jaguar spoke to her in rough, wordless murmurs.

Several long minutes later, she took a shuddering breath. “They came after me as if I were an animal to be tracked down and bagged.”

He clenched his fist in her hair, but didn’t interrupt.

“I thought—perhaps my father—of course not, he’s Psy. He wanted his investment back. It didn’t matter to him to find out the choices I’d made, that killing you would kill me, too.”

“I’m not that easy to take out, Red.”

“It’s stupid, but I feel betrayed by Father, though he was never truly a father to me. How could he have allowed them to come after me like that?”

Vaughn had no answers to soothe that hurt. So he just held her, held her and told her that her worth to him was beyond any price. After a while, she slept. Secure in his home, a home no Psy could enter without setting off a hundred booby traps, he, too, went into the twilight.





Faith woke at nine. Her body didn’t want to sleep in, despite having been deprived of rest. Her cat, on the other hand, complained when she moved and told her to lie still. Able to smile this morning, though the smile was a little fragile, she settled back against him, listened to the sound of the waterfall, and took in the sunlight pouring in through the ingenuity of Vaughn’s vent designs.