Slave to Sensation p-1 Read online

  Which meant, he deduced, that not everyone was privy to the secrets of the Net. “But if no one else has access to all the information, how can they be held accountable?”

  “Who holds you accountable?” she asked instead of answering. “Who punishes the alpha?”

  He wished he were on the other side of the desk so he could touch her and find out if she was fighting fire with fire, or simply being practical. “If I break Pack law, the sentinels will take me down. Who takes down your Council?”

  He almost thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she said, “They are Council. They are above the law.”

  Lucas wondered if she understood what she’d just admitted. More than that, he wanted to know if she cared. That was truly madness, because the only thing the Psy cared about was the cold sterility of their lives. Except every instinct he had said that Sascha was different.

  He had to uncover the truth about her before he did something he regretted. And the best way to crack that impenetrable Psy shell might be to yank her from the safety of the world she knew and throw her into the flames. “How about lunch?”

  “I can meet you back here in an hour,” she began.

  “That was an invitation, darling.” He added the endearment as a tease. She’d reacted last time and he wanted to see if she’d slip again. “Or do you have a date?”

  “We don’t date. And I accept your invitation.” No obvious reaction but he felt the spike of temper.

  He stood, satisfaction thrumming in his veins—the trap had sprung. “Let’s go feed the hunger.”

  Those slightly uptilted eyes seemed to widen but then she blinked and it was gone. Was he fooling himself, imagining emotion on one of the merciless Psy because he found himself drawn to her? Sleeping with the enemy was not part of the plan. Unfortunately, his panther half had a way of destroying the best-laid plans once it began craving a taste of something… or someone.

  Almost forty minutes later, Sascha got out of Lucas’s car in front of what he’d told her was a packmate’s home. Located in the wide zone where urban dwellings gradually started giving way to the trailing edges of the forests, the house was isolated at the end of a long drive and appeared to back on to a wooded reserve.

  She felt uncertain and out of place. No one had ever taught her how to deal with the situation she was in… because Psy weren’t usually invited into changeling homes. “Are you sure your packmate won’t mind?”

  “Tammy’ll love the company,” Lucas assured her. His quick knock was answered by a call from inside the house and he walked in without hesitation.

  Following him down the hallway, she found herself at the entrance to a large room that appeared to be a kitchen and dining area combined. A rectangular wooden table with six chairs sat to her right. It bore a number of scratches that she thought might’ve come from careless claws. The thick legs were similarly scarred.

  The table and chairs sat on a shiny wooden floor covered by a colorful rug that couldn’t disguise the number of scratches in the wood. For the most part, the scratches were thin and closely spaced, far too narrow to have come from leopard paws. They puzzled her analytical Psy mind.

  “Lucas!” A beautiful woman with rich brown hair walked out from behind a counter.

  Lucas met her in the middle of the room. “Tamsyn.” Leaning down, he brushed her lips with his. The woman held him for a second before stepping back.

  Sascha was shocked at the sick feeling that invaded the pit of her stomach at witnessing the casual intimacy. Trained to recognize emotion so she could destroy it, she identified this one as jealousy. It was characterized by anger and possessiveness and made people extremely vulnerable. The aim of the training had been to teach her how to exploit changeling and human weaknesses, but she’d used the information to mask her own flaw.

  “Who have you brought to visit?” The brunette walked over. “Hello. I’m Tamsyn.” She went to stretch out a hand and then dropped it as if remembering the Psy aversion to touch.

  “I’m Sascha Duncan.” Glancing over Tamsyn’s shoulder, she met Lucas’s gaze. He was looking at her in a way that unsettled her with its directness. She had to force her attention back to Tamsyn.

  “Come on,” the woman said. “I’ve just made the most divine chocolate chip cookies. You two can have first pick before the rest of the pack sniffs them out. I swear Kit and the juveniles always know when I’m baking cookies.” She headed back to the other side of the counter. As she passed Lucas, he ran the knuckles of one hand down her cheek and she rubbed back gently against him.

  Skin privileges.

  Mates, lovers, and Pack.

  “Is she your mate?” Sascha walked to stand beside Lucas, trying not to grit her teeth against the jealousy churning in her gut.

  Tamsyn laughed, startling Sascha. She’d forgotten that changelings had far better hearing than the Psy. “Good Lord, no. Don’t say that around Nate—he might decide to challenge Lucas to a duel or something else equally archaic and testosterone driven.”

  “I apologize,” she said to Tamsyn, far too aware of the acute interest in Lucas’s eyes. “I misunderstood.”

  The other woman frowned. “What?”

  It was Lucas who answered. “We kissed. We touched.”

  “Oh that!” Tamsyn lifted up a plate from behind the counter and put it on the top. “That was just saying hello to a packmate.”

  Sascha wondered if they knew how lucky they were. They could show such extreme emotion without fear that they’d be locked away and rehabilitated. Part of her wanted to tell them that she, too, hungered for touch, that her hunger was so great she was starving. But she knew that was the madness talking. Changelings despised the Psy. Even if they somehow sympathized, what could they do? Nothing. No one had ever withstood the might of the PsyNet—the only way to leave it was death.

  “Come on.” Tamsyn beckoned her over. “These are decadent.”

  Sascha had never thought of food as decadent. Curious, she walked over to pick up a warm cookie. Chocolate. It was a sweet substance coveted by humans and changelings. The Psy meal plan didn’t include it as it had no nutritional value that couldn’t be provided by other, more efficient means.

  “You’re looking at it as if you’ve never tasted chocolate before.” Lucas leaned on the counter beside her. There was no mistaking the amusement on his face.

  Her hands itched to trace his markings, to find out if they were soft or hard, sensitive or not. “I haven’t.” She concentrated on the cookie instead of the heat coming off Lucas’s skin. Now that he’d taken off his jacket, she could see far too much sun-golden male flesh.

  Tamsyn’s eyes went wide. “You poor thing. You’ve been deprived.”

  “I’ve been given balanced nutrition every day of my life.” She felt compelled to defend her people, though she knew they’d discard her without a thought the second they discovered her defect.

  “Nutrition?” Lucas shook his head, sending dark hair sliding across muscular shoulders. “You eat so you’ll function?” He disposed of a cookie in two bites. “Darling, that’s no way to live.” Laughter flickered in his eyes but there was also something hotter, something that whispered that he could show her how to really live.

  She swallowed the flare of desire threatening to shatter her control. Lucas Hunter was potent. And a crazy part of her wanted to take a sip of him to see if he tasted as good as he sounded.

  “Go on,” Tamsyn said, snapping her back to reality none too soon. “Try one before Lucas demolishes the whole lot. It won’t poison you.”

  Sascha took a careful bite. Sensation flooded her. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying out. No wonder the church had once termed chocolate an enticement of the devil. Pacing herself, when she wanted to gulp it down and snatch the whole plate for herself, she finished it off. “It has an unusual taste.”

  “But did you like it?” Tamsyn asked.

  Before she could answer, Lucas did. “The Psy don’t like or dislike, do they, Sasch
a?”

  “No.” Not if they were normal. She wondered if anyone would notice if she took one more cookie. “Something is either useful or it isn’t. Liking doesn’t come into it.”

  “Here.” Lucas lifted another cookie to her lips. “Maybe chocolate will change your mind.” Temptation lingered in the playful curve of his lips.

  Sascha wasn’t strong enough to resist. “Since we haven’t yet had lunch, this’ll provide needed calories.”

  “Lucas! You worked through lunch again? Both of you, sit!” Tamsyn pointed to the table. “Nobody walks out of my kitchen hungry.”

  Sascha was confused by the hierarchy in the room. “I thought Lucas was your alpha.”

  Lucas chuckled. “Yeah, but this is Tamsyn’s kitchen. We might as well sit before she throws a pot at us.” He headed over to the table. “Tammy, I confess. I came here so you’d feed me. Nobody cooks like you.”

  “Cut the sweet talk, Lucas Hunter.” In spite of the sharp words, the brunette was smiling.

  Sascha tried to finish her cookie in sedate bites instead of inhaling it. She was going to have to smuggle some chocolate into her quarters. For the first time, she’d found something relatively safe with which to indulge her senses. One more sin would make no difference to a life she’d lived in secret since before she could remember.

  They’d just taken their seats when two small leopard cubs barreled into the room. Eyes wide, Sascha watched the pair slide across the shiny wood of the floor before being caught on the rug. Several long, thin scratches marked their passage.

  “Roman! Julian!” Tamsyn walked out from behind the counter and picked up both cubs by the scruff of their necks. “What do you think you’re doing?” Two sheepish leopard faces turned to look at her. Sascha was riveted by the kittenish mewls coming from their throats.

  Tamsyn laughed. “You two charmers. You know you’re not supposed to run in the house. I’ve already lost two vases this week.”

  The cubs wiggled.

  “Here.” Tamsyn walked over and dumped them on the table. “Explain yourselves to your uncle Lucas.”

  The cubs put their heads down on their paws and looked up at Lucas as if awaiting judgment. Sascha wanted nothing more than to stroke her fingers through the silky-soft pelt of the one nearest her. They were so beautiful, their eyes a lively green-gold that had her spellbound.

  She almost jumped out of her chair when Lucas growled beside her, a low rumble that came from a human throat but sounded completely feral. The cubs sprang up and growled back. Lucas laughed. “Scary, aren’t they?” His eyes invited her to join in the fun.

  She couldn’t resist. “Fierce.”

  One of the cubs suddenly skidded to stand in front of her, so close they were almost nose to nose. Sascha stared in fascination at those eyes. Then he opened his mouth and growled a baby growl at her. Laughter bubbled in her throat. How could anyone remain unmoved around such mischief? But she was Psy and she wasn’t allowed to laugh. Yet there was no way she wasn’t going to indulge at least one more sense. She might never get this chance again.

  Reaching out, she mimicked Tamsyn’s hold and lifted the cub up by the ruff of his neck. His fur was soft, his body warm. He wiggled and growled, batting at her hands with sheathed claws, and she realized he was playing with her. At that moment, the other cub jumped to land on her lap and began to climb up her body.

  Lost, she turned to Lucas. His amusement was obvious. “Don’t look at me, darling.”

  She narrowed her eyes at her two little playmates. “I’m Psy. I can turn you into rats.” The cubs stopped wiggling. Picking up the one in her lap, she put them both on the table in front of her and leaned down to their level. “Be very careful of people like me.” It was a soft, sincere warning. “We don’t know how to play nice.”

  Scooting forward on little baby paws, one of the cubs licked the tip of her nose in a quick movement. She was so startled that she blurted out, “What does that mean?”

  “It means he likes you.” Lucas tugged at her plait. “But that doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

  “No.” She wished he’d stop touching her. Not because she didn’t like it but because she liked it far too much. It made her hunger for things that could never be hers. And if someone went hungry for too long, they started to starve. Started to hurt.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Gotcha!” Tamsyn reached out and scooped up the cubs in her arms. They turned to nip playfully at her skin. “I love you, too, babies. But Uncle Lucas and your new friend have to eat so you have to stay on the floor.” She put them down after a cuddle.

  The cubs scooted under the table, one of them curling himself up on Sascha’s leather-synth boots. The heavy warmth brought tears to her eyes. In an effort to hide her reaction, she looked down at the table and focused on the way Lucas continued to hold her plait.

  He was sliding his fingers up and down, as though he liked the feel of the strands against his fingertips. The smooth, repetitive motion was oddly arousing—would he stroke other body parts with such exquisite care?

  Her thoughts could get her interned at the Center but she didn’t care. She’d experienced more sensations in the space of the last few hours than she had in the rest of her lifetime combined. It terrified her and yet she knew she’d be back tomorrow. She’d be back until someone found out.

  And then she’d fight to the death. She would not be rehabilitated, would not allow her mind to be turned into a mockery of who she was.

  “Here you go.” Tamsyn laid plates in front of them. “Nothing special but it’ll keep you going.”

  Sascha looked at her plate. “Pita pockets.” She knew the names of many things. Like most, she used mental exercises to keep herself strong. One exercise involved memorizing items—it had been one of her guilty pleasures to choose lists that spoke to her senses. Food was one. Her other favorite list had been compiled by the computer from an ancient book of sexual positions.

  “It’s my special ‘Hot Lips’ type.” Tamsyn winked. “A little chili never hurt anybody.”

  Lucas tugged on the plait he had yet to release.

  “Yes?” What would he do if she threw caution to the winds and started touching him in return? Male that he was, he’d probably ask for more.

  “It might hurt if you’re not used to it.”

  Stubbornness had always been her Achilles’ heal. “I’ll survive. Thank you, Tamsyn.”

  “You’re welcome.” The other woman pulled up a chair. “Eat!”

  Sascha picked up her pita pocket and took a bite. It nearly took off her skull. However, thanks to her training, nobody looking at her would’ve guessed at her discomfort. Lucas had finally stopped playing with her hair and was demolishing his own meal in short order.

  “So,” Tamsyn asked, “could you really turn my cubs into rats?”

  Sascha thought Tamsyn was being serious until she caught the twinkle in those caramel-colored eyes. “I could’ve made them think they were rats.”

  “Really?” The brunette leaned forward. “I thought Psy found changeling minds too hard to work with.”

  Too hard to manipulate was the right statement. “Your thought patterns are so unusual that yes, they’re difficult to work with. Difficult, not impossible. But the amount of energy required to control you generally isn’t worth the outcome.” At least that was what she’d heard, having never been in a situation where she was trying to handle a changeling mind.

  “Good thing we’re so hard to take under or the Psy would be ruling the planet.” Lucas’s tone was lazily satisfied as he leaned back, one arm stretched over the back of her chair. Territorial didn’t begin to describe him.

  “We do rule the world.”

  “You might be high up in politics and business but that’s not the world.”

  She took another bite of the pita, having discovered she quite liked the feeling of having her head taken off. “No,” she agreed after swallowing.

  At the same moment, she became aware of baby l
eopard teeth nibbling at the toe of her boot.

  Sascha knew she should reach down and dislodge the cub but she didn’t want to. Drowning in sensation was far preferable to being conditioned to numbness. A discreet chime interrupted her in midthought.

  It took a second for her to realize it was her organizer. Reaching into the inner pocket of her jacket, she checked the caller ID and then linked to the other Psy, who was close enough for simple telepathic contact.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Tamsyn asked when she put the slim electronic tablet back into her pocket.

  “I am answering it.” Answering in such a way took less than 10 percent of her concentration. If she’d been a true cardinal, it would’ve taken less than a tenth of a percent.

  “I don’t get it.” Tamsyn frowned. “If you can communicate mentally anyway, why the actual call in the first place?”

  “Boundaries.” She finished her meal. “It’s like knocking before you enter a house. Only certain people have the right to initiate mental contact with me.” People like her mother and the Council.

  Lucas touched her shoulder with the fingers of the hand he had across the back of her chair. “I thought the PsyNet meant you were all in constant contact.”

  The PsyNet wasn’t a secret but neither was it to be talked about in detail. She’d failed part of her conditioning but this had held. Her mouth opened and she said, “Perhaps we should be leaving for our meeting.”

  She felt his entire body go so motionless, it was like he’d turned into the lethal beast he carried within. Lucas Hunter wasn’t used to being told no. “Of course.”

  She should’ve feared this side of his nature, but found herself fascinated. “Thank you for lunch,” she said to Tamsyn, wriggling her foot so the cub would let go. She didn’t want to hurt him or get him in trouble. He clung.

  Lucas pushed back his chair and stood. “Tell Nate I dropped by.”

  Tamsyn began to stand. Aware that she couldn’t remain sitting, Sascha decided to take a risk. Sending out a narrow telepathic beam, she spoke to the cub. Let go, baby, or you’ll get in trouble. She’d expected to have difficulty contacting him but the link was made in an instant, as if she were talking to a child Psy. The find was something she should’ve immediately fed into the PsyNet but she didn’t. It felt like betrayal.