VISIONS OF HEAT

“While I was in the Net, I heard rumors that your PsyClan did a considerable amount of sub-rosa work for the Council.”


Faith’s fingernails dug into his skin. “And if she was ’pathing for them, then she knew everything that was being sent and received, knew every secret, every detail of every plan.”

“A liability if she decided not to play the game.” After all, Marine NightStar had been his mate’s sister and Faith was too intelligent, too independent, too human, to have ever made a good Council cipher.

Faith suddenly gave a violent shake of her head. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. A knowing doesn’t usually give me details—we’ll have to wait and see if we can scan the killer’s mind. Even if the Council comes after me, it won’t be before we incapacitate him.”

Clay crossed his arms across his chest. “How do you know?”

“I know.” Her voice was haunted and very, very certain. “We have that much time. The answer will come to us tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Sascha asked quietly.

“Then at least Marine will have been avenged.” The bone-deep fury in her found an echo in the heart of the jaguar. “I want him to pay for what he did.”

The males looked to each other and understanding passed in a current. Three predatory changelings and a Psy who might be a trained assassin, they found nothing wrong with Faith’s rage. It was real, it was true, and it would be satisfied.

“He will.” Vaughn spoke for all of them. “Even if I have to crush his skull myself.”





“Vaughn.” Faith stood beside her mate as he worked on a sculpture. Dressed in nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans, he was pure muscle and heat, amber-gold hair tied carelessly into a queue.

“What is it, Red?” He put down his tools to run his knuckles over her skin. The touch was tender, the look in his eyes anything but.

“Why are you doing this now?” She smoothed her hand over one marble curve. “Come to bed. We both need to mentally prepare for tomorrow.”

“I’m not Psy, baby.” His voice dropped. “I don’t need to calm my mind.”

She suddenly understood. “I’m ready.”

“Go to sleep.” He picked up what looked like a chisel. “I’ll be there soon.”

She took it from him and put it back on the workbench. “You’re afraid of hurting me.” Such a thing was wrong between mates, she knew that without having to be taught. “You’re scared I’ll cascade like I did yesterday.”

“What we did yesterday was perfection, but you’re not ready for another round. And I don’t have gentleness in me right now.” Rough, harsh, blunt.

She put her hand on the golden skin of his chest. “You’re never going to be truly gentle.”

He flinched.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I like your wildness, your passion, your demands.” She swallowed at the molten heat in his eyes. “You make me feel alive.”

“I can sense the way you hurt when your mind breaks.”

“But I get stronger with every loving.” Something she was now starting to understand. “If you try to contain yourself, you’ll shortchange both of us. I need to satisfy you in the same way you need to touch me.”

“I won’t be tied down this time, and what I demand from you, you might not be ready to give. I’m in no mood to play.”

Because, she realized, he was in the grip of a possessive protectiveness that left no room for half measures. She could feel the dark red of his hunger through the mating bond, feel his passion, his wildness. “Show me,” she whispered, pushing aside her own fears. If the Council did come for her tomorrow, she wanted to look at them with the confidence of a woman who’d broken every rule of Silence and done so in the most unquestionable way. “I won’t cascade.” A vow. To both of them.

The T-shirt she’d meant to sleep in floated in shreds to her feet—Vaughn’s claws had moved so fast she hadn’t even had time to take a breath. Heart in her throat, she watched him retract those razor-sharp weapons, excruciatingly aware that he hadn’t left a scratch on her. Eyes locked with hers, he slid his hands down her back and under the waistband of her panties to cup her bottom.

She gasped as her breasts rubbed against his chest, full and aching. When her panties disintegrated off her body, she barely felt it, so stunned was she at the pure sensuality that spread across Vaughn’s features. He’d been scared of physically harming her yesterday. Today he was in full control of his strength . . . but not of his hunger. Notwithstanding her confident talk, she wasn’t positive she could handle his demands.

He smoothed one hand to the front of her body and the roughness of his skin rasping over her navel had her holding her breath. The tips of his fingers touched her curls. She clenched her hands on his shoulders.

“So soft,” he murmured, and drove his fingers through the curls to cup her intimately.