VISIONS OF HEAT

Vaughn heard the shower come on as he leaned against the wall next to the bathroom. He’d said he’d stay there while she showered and he would. And it wasn’t only because he’d smelled the acrid tang of bone-chilling fear. Something far more disquieting had been present in that nightmare-soaked room—a third entity that the cat had recognized as nothing natural, nothing good.

He hadn’t been able to define the lingering miasma as either human, changeling, or Psy, but it had clung to Faith like a second skin, disappearing only in the light of the kitchen. It might be gone now, but Vaughn was far from convinced that he’d seen the last of it. Faith could very well be a psychic carrier of some kind, providing a conduit for the infiltration of DarkRiver.

However, his instincts said otherwise. There had been something malignant about that darkness, something violent and ugly. And while he wasn’t sure about his redheaded Psy, his beast scented none of that ugliness in her. Faith smelled warm and female, tempting and inviting.

Whatever it was that was happening, he had the gut feeling that Faith herself was unaware of it. It was even possible that someone else was entering her consciousness through her connection to the hive mind of the PsyNet.

The shower shut off. That was when he realized he’d given Faith nothing with which to replace her sweat-soaked pajamas. He waited for her to figure out the same. She cracked open the door a minute later. “I need new clothing.”

He turned and propped himself up with an arm against the wall. “I don’t know. I think you’d look good without them.”

Night-sky eyes stared at him without blinking. “You’re not playing nice.”

“You catch on quick, Red.” From the gap in the door he could see her holding the towel closed over breasts that appeared surprisingly generous given her small frame. The beast prowled closer to the surface of his mind.

“My name is Faith.”

“Hmm.” He moved enough to slide a strand of wet silk through his fingers. Right now, her hair was a dark red that reminded him of heart’s blood. “Do you have extra clothes in your bag?”

“A shirt and the pants I was wearing earlier.” She didn’t protest his touch and he wondered if she even realized how far she’d come in mere hours. Something in Faith craved sensation and it was driving her to buck her conditioning under Silence. He was pleased. And it was because he liked touching her. The cat saw no reason to lie about that.

“I’ll get you a T-shirt—you can get into your day clothes later in case you decide to go back to sleep.” There was spare women’s clothing in the cupboards, but he wanted her covered in his scent. And he was animal enough not to care why he wanted that. He just did. “Wait here.”

This time, she didn’t ask him to stop, but he felt her eyes on him all the way down the hall. She hadn’t moved so much as an inch by the time he came back. Whatever it was that she’d seen, it had spooked the hell out of her, spooked her enough to break down her normal shield of cool reserve.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” She closed the door, leaving him to imagine all sorts of things. He was getting to the part about replacing his T-shirt with him when she walked out.

“I left the towel on the drying rod.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.

He saw that his old black T-shirt hit her a bare few inches above the knee, covering way more than he’d expected. “You’re short.”

“Did you only notice now?”

“What are you, five two?”

“One hundred and fifty-five centimeters to be exact.”

That made her a lot shorter than him. Which would make things very interesting in bed. He pushed off the wall, not surprised at the direction of his thoughts, but disturbed by the strength of them. Cats liked sensuous play and Faith was a very enticing female, small but formed just right. And that skin—it made him want to lick her up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Faith took a step back and tilted up her head.

No emotion in either her tone or her expression. No scent of desire. But the cat knew full well she found him intriguing.

“Yes, it’ll make things very interesting.” He could easily lift her up against a wall and pound into her. Hard. But maybe he’d save that for later—his Psy would probably appreciate a bit less enthusiasm the first few times.

“Vaughn, your eyes are going more jaguar than usual.”

He shook his head in a sharp movement and strode down the hallway. “I think the coffee’s ready.” What the hell was this Psy doing to him? He was known in DarkRiver for being aloof to the point of icy remoteness. Most of the newly mature females gave him a wide berth while they flaunted themselves to every other male, because they knew he wasn’t led by his balls. At least not until now.

Faith caught up to him. “Do you have any nutrition I could have?”

“Nutrition?” He scowled. “Do you mean food?”

“I have some nutrition bars in my bag if you don’t.”

“You’re worse than Sascha was.” He put his hand on her lower back and urged her toward the kitchen.

She jumped away like a scalded cat. “I told you not to touch me.”