VISIONS OF HEAT

She didn’t understand until the cat nudged at her legs hard enough to collapse them under her. “Okay, I get it. I’ll wait here.” That was when strong jaws closed around her wrist. She froze. It wasn’t hurting her but she could feel the power of those teeth. One press and she’d lose her hand. “What? What do you want?” She fought her need to reach out with her mind and speak to it on a level that was normal and familiar. Teeth scraped over her watch.

“Okay.” She waited for him to release her and he took his time doing so—the cat was very definitely male. Her eyes met his and she saw the sharp intelligence, the power and the fury. Dangerous and wild, he was also the most exotic thing she’d ever seen in her life. The urge to stroke her hands through the fur so close was almost impossible to resist. Except she knew this was one cat who’d never allow such an experimental touch.

Finally, he let go. She removed her watch and he took it in his teeth. Then he was gone, a blur so fast she barely caught the movement. Alone again, she shivered in the chill of the night and wrapped her arms around her pack. Would he come back? What if someone else found her here? The possibility of being surrounded by more of those cats made her reconsider the logic of what she was doing. They were unquestionably not Psy; therefore the rules she’d based her preparations on didn’t apply.

Pressing hard against the tree, Faith waited. She had no other option.





Vaughn walked out of the bedroom and into the living room of the aerie wearing only a faded pair of jeans. He held her watch in his hand. “It doesn’t have a tracker.”

Lucas frowned and reached out to take it. Vaughn felt the irrational urge to keep the slim metallic band for himself, a surge of possessiveness so unusual that it startled him. He handed it over.

“Let me see.” Sascha peered at it from beside her mate. “It’s relatively ordinary as far as Psy timepieces are concerned.” She took it from Lucas and looked at the back. “Not engraved with any family designation.”

“I thought you might be able to pick up something from it.”

Sascha shook her head. “My psychometric skills are growing but this is too cold. I don’t think your Psy places much emotional importance on it.”

The oddness of the statement wasn’t lost on any of the three. The Psy placed no emotional importance on anything.

“You said she came out of that compound in Tahoe you were asking about?”

“Scaled the fence like she didn’t want anyone to see.” He retrieved the watch, hiding it away in his pocket. Where no one else could touch it.

“I didn’t think you Psy were much into the physical,” Lucas said, and there was a vein of sensual teasing in the words that Vaughn felt as sharply as a knife blade, though he’d never before been affected by the open sexuality of the pack’s mated pairs.

“Why don’t we discuss it tonight, hmm?” Sascha leaned her back against Lucas’s chest. “But that is unusual—did she do it with any skill?”

“Smooth as a cat.” It was the highest compliment Vaughn knew how to give. “Like she’d done it before.”

“Odd. And she said she wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” There was no way Vaughn was going to take Sascha out there and he knew Lucas wouldn’t allow it either. Psy couldn’t be trusted. Not even pretty redheaded Psy with skin as soft as cream.

Sascha’s night-sky eyes unfocused for an eerie second. “What did she look like?”

“Red hair.” He’d never seen hair that deeply red, that luxuriously silky. The cat had wanted to play with it while the man had wanted to do much, much more intimate things. “Cardinal eyes.”

Sascha stood up ruler-straight. “It can’t be. Impossible.”

Both men watched as she started to pace around the aerie. Vaughn felt Lucas’s possessiveness as if it were a physical being between them and for the first time, he saw a glimmer of where that emotion might spring from.

“What is it, Sascha?” Lucas caught her around the waist as she passed.

She leaned into the embrace. “I could be wrong, but red hair is common in one particular family in this area of the Psy. The NightStar line has an unusually high incidence of the recessive gene.” Sascha sounded utterly Psy at that moment. That was to be expected. She hadn’t been cat for much more than a few months. It would take time.

“NightStar line?” Lucas played his fingers through her hair.

“They’re a group of related families who operate under the PsyClan NightStar.”

“You said PsyClans were utilized by F-Psy.” Vaughn crossed his arms, his fingers tingling with the urge to know what it would be like to comb through the flame-red silk of a woman who climbed as well as any she-cat he knew.

She nodded. “The NightStar family has a history of producing F-Psy. They’re rare, but NightStar has always had at least one in every generation. Some weak, some powerful. The only cardinal I know of in this entire region is Faith NightStar.”

Faith.

He tested the name on his tongue and it fit, felt right. “Her name is the same as her PsyClan?”

“Yes. I’m not sure why, but that’s how it works for them. They align themselves to the PsyClan as a whole rather than to their individual families.” She bit her lip. “Cardinal eyes and red hair plus an isolated location—it could be Faith, but I don’t know every Psy in the area.”