Hostage to Pleasure (39 page)

“—then the NetMind is attached to Ashaya. It’s probably protected her for a long time. It’s why no one ever saw her as a rebel threat.” Sascha looked at the two women lying in adjoining beds. Identical and yet not. Twin expressions of the split in the PsyNet. It made her wonder if reconciliation was even possible. Or had the Net been irrevocably damaged?

 
Dorian came awake to the awareness that he was surrounded by Pack. They were everywhere in the air around him. But cutting through that familiar warmth was a shining presence that sang to his soul. His leopard uncurled and he turned his head. “Shaya.” There she was, so beautiful.

Her color vibrant, she lay curled up on her side, head pillowed on one hand. Sleeping. Safe. His remembered terror at seeing the gunman inches from her face made him want to bare his teeth and growl. Unable to lie still, he struggled to sit up. He was mildly surprised when no one jumped out to stop him. Taking advantage of his good fortune, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

His legs held after a couple of shaky seconds. He found himself wearing a pair of dark sweatpants, nothing on top. There was a bandage on his neck, but he could tell the wound was almost gone. Medical magic, he guessed.

When he reached Ashaya, he saw she’d been clothed in soft blue flannel pajamas. He just wanted to get in that bed and hold her. Then his senses alerted him to the woman who slept on the third bed in the room. She was dressed in pale yellow and lay on her back. Part of him he hadn’t even known was wound up, relaxed.

Ashaya would’ve been devastated if she’d lost her twin.

Aching with the need to touch her, he was about to hop into Ashaya’s bed when his luck ran out. A tall redhead with worry carved into her skin walked into the room, took one look at him, and yelled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Then she ran up, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him full on the lips.

“God damn it,” she whispered as she drew back. “You fucking took ten years off my life.”

“Sorry, Merce.” He tugged at one of her loose curls. “Did you kill him?”

“Of course I did. Ripped out his throat.” She brushed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Son of a bitch was dead before he hit the ground.”

“And Keenan?”

“No problems. Sascha said Ashaya protected him instinctively—he didn’t feel a thing. Now that he can see his mom in the Web, he’s as happy as a clam up there with the wolves.” A sniff, another rub of her eyes. “We haven’t been able to contact your folks.”

Relief whispered through him. “Good. They’ll take it better if I’m healthy when I tell them.”

“That’s what I thought.” She tapped her finger on Ashaya’s mattress. “So you got mated to a Psy.”

Mate,
he thought and there she was, a link tied straight to his heart. “Yeah.”

“Surprise.”

Something in her tone made him tear his eyes away from Ashaya’s sleeping face. “Merce?” His stomach tightened. “You’re not—I mean—” He was suddenly tongue-tied. Mercy had been his best friend forever. Shit, she’d helped him pull more pranks than he could name. “Does it bother you that I’m mated?”

She rolled her eyes and punched him on the shoulder, then steadied him when he swayed. “No, you buffoon. If I’d wanted you, I’d have made my move years ago.”

“Hey. I’m injured.” Leaning against Ashaya’s bed, he pretended to rub his shoulder. “But thank the sweet Lord. I’d hate to think of you carrying around a torch for me. Sorry, Carrot, but I don’t see you as a woman.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” She snorted. “If you promise not to move after you get in bed with her, I’ll leave you to make cow eyes at your mate.” It was said with affectionate humor.

He wanted to do exactly that, but Ashaya was still asleep and he’d known Mercy since before they were both out of diapers. “You might as well tell me what’s bugging you, or I won’t make you godmother to our kids.”

“You heard that?” Her eyes widened and she swallowed. “Shit, Dorian, don’t ever do that again. You bled all over my best pair of pants.”

He had no memory of hearing her words, not consciously. “Stop stalling.”

“Oh, Jesus, fine.” She rolled her eyes, cheeks a little pink. “It’s weirding me out because now that you’re mated, it takes care of the last male in the pack with the same or stronger dominance as me. I don’t want
you
. But it was nice knowing that at least one strong male was unmated.” Mercy had honestly never had the hots for Dorian. He was undeniably pretty, but he was her friend and colleague. End of story.

Now he blinked those surfer blue eyes. “Huh. Yeah, guess I never thought about that. I don’t suppose you like BDSM?”

“What?”

“You know, you could crack the whip—” He didn’t even try to avoid her second careful punch on his shoulder, he was laughing so hard. When he finally caught his breath, he grabbed her hand and tugged her close. “There are other packs, you know. You could ask Luc to arrange a short transfer.”

Mercy had considered that. While predatory packs were very territorial, the sort of transfer Dorian was talking about did happen now and then. “I can’t. Not now. The situation with the Psy is too unstable.”

Dorian grunted in agreement. “I’ll buy you a blow-up doll. I’m sure my mate won’t mind when I explain how hard up you are.”

She didn’t bother to punch him this time, just glared with promise of future retaliation. “Very funny. You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew how sexually frustrated I am right now.” Changelings needed touch on a fundamental level. The problem was, Mercy didn’t particularly enjoy sex with men who weren’t equal to or stronger than her in the ways that mattered to changelings. “The last time was when that SilverBlade sentinel was in town for a communications meeting.”

All amusement left Dorian’s face. “You serious? That was months ago.” A very long time to go without intimate touch. “Merce, that could get dangerous.”

“I know. Do you think I don’t know?” She thrust her hands through her hair. “Damn it, Dorian! It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to wonder if some of the wolves would be good in bed.” That was a lie—her recent slew of incredibly erotic fantasies hadn’t focused on SnowDancer males in general, but on one very specific wolf. Not that she would admit that. To anyone.

“Cat and wolf isn’t a . . . um . . . normal combination.”

“And Psy and cat is?” She made a face at him. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Cat and wolf is strange.” But the SnowDancer dominants were tough sons of bitches, part of a very small pool of men who might take her on and survive. And the one she was thinking about . . . No. Absolutely not. Never.
Ever.

“How about one of the Rats?” Dorian’s eyes gleamed.

She narrowed her own. “Cat and rat. Har-dee-har-har.”

“It would definitely give a whole new meaning to the term ‘black widow.’ ” He hugged her before she could kick him, his body shaking with laughter.

She hugged him back, so damn glad he was alive to tease her. “I’ll get you back for that later, being that you’re an invalid right now.” Pulling back after another few moments, she nudged him toward Ashaya and walked out, closing the door behind herself.

She just missed seeing Ashaya open her eyes.

 
Ashaya had woken to the sound of Dorian’s laughter and a woman’s voice. She found herself tensing up, though she didn’t know why. The words came into focus slowly, but by the time Dorian mentioned rats, she was fully conscious and aware that everyone who belonged to her was safe. Mate. Child. Twin.

Dorian’s laughter wrapped around her as she looked into her mind and found Keenan. His star shone bright in this strange, wonderful web that was her new home. When she contacted him through it, he said, “Sascha said you were sleeping.” It was a whisper. “You slept a lot. Days and days. But I could see you in the Web, so I wasn’t scared.”

“I’m awake now, baby.” She let all her love for him color her voice. “I’ll come see you soon.”

“I’ve got lots and lots and
lots
to tell you.” He sounded excited. “I have friends. Ben’s a wolf and Tally brought Noor to play, too. I’m going to marry Noor one day. And Ben’s gonna mate with Marlee even if she is bigger than he is.”

Ashaya’s heart smiled to hear her son sound like a child. Behind her, Amara lay sleeping but uninjured. And Dorian . . . Dorian was alive.

She opened her eyes.

Her gaze met his. His smile slipped away, to be replaced by a look of such intense emotion that she felt it as a touch. Impossible . . . except that he was in her heart now, the bond between them a brilliant, golden beacon.

It scared her a little, the depth of this fury.

“It would’ve been easier,” she whispered.

“What would?” He stayed beside the bed, as if he was content to simply watch her.

She felt embraced by his eyes, stroked by his soul. “If you’d fallen in love with Mercy.”

A slow smile. “She’s too mean.”

It made her smile, too. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Aw, come on.” That smile softened, his eyes filling with the chaos in her own heart. “You almost died for me.”

She saw the frown lines forming, cut him off. “No, Dorian. You don’t get to be angry at me.”

“Why the hell not?”

She spread the palm of one hand against the sheet. “Your blood gushed over my hand, like a river.” She shook her head as her heart stuttered in memory. “Why did you take the bullet? I wouldn’t have survived if you’d died.”

“Move over.” Slipping into her bed, he cradled her against his chest. “You’re wrong. You would’ve pulled yourself together for Keenan, for Amara. That’s who you are.”

He didn’t understand, she thought. “But I wouldn’t have survived.” She put her hand on his chest, wanting to feel the pulse of his life. “Pieces of my heart, Dorian. You’re in so many pieces of my heart.”

He sucked in a breath at her use of those words, tightening his embrace. “Shh, now, sugar. I’m a tough bastard . . . though you’ll have to explain how I survived a shot to the carotid.”

The practical question anchored her, and she guessed he’d known it would. “I have no idea. I was unconscious.”

Dorian began to say something, but right then, the door opened and Tamsyn walked in with several others. Ashaya found both herself and Dorian being bullied into a battery of medical tests. She told them she was fine, but no one listened. Tammy’s eyes actually went leopard on her when she dared protest. Ashaya shut up.

“Let them fuss,” Dorian whispered as they were being taken down for yet another scan. “They had a shock, too, need to convince themselves we’re okay.”

She could understand that. “Amara?”

“She’s being watched. I talked to Sascha while you were having the bloodwork done. She thinks we woke quicker because we bolster each other’s energy.”

Ashaya didn’t know enough about this new web to answer. Instead, she kept a psychic eye on her twin as they completed the scan. When it was time to return, she put her foot down and was allowed to walk—as Dorian had been doing all along. She was a little shaky, but no invalid to be pushed around.

Mercy was standing outside their room, waiting. “Hey, glad to see you’re feeling better.” Her smile was genuine. “If Blondie gives you any trouble, call me. I know all sorts of stuff you can use to blackmail him into good behavior.”

Ashaya had the most startling thought—she liked Mercy. Mercy could become a friend. “Can I borrow your gun for a minute?”

CHAPTER 47

Mercy gave her a wary look. “Um, what did he do?”

Dorian put his hand on Ashaya’s back. “What is it?”

Ignoring the sharp protectiveness lacing his tone, Ashaya held out a hand. “Please, trust me.”

“You’re Dorian’s mate,” Mercy said, as if that was an answer. “Here.” Metal warm from Mercy’s body touched her palm. “You know how to use it?”

“The basics, yes.” Tucking the gun to her side, she went to the door.

Dorian slammed out his arm to block her but she ducked under and slid it open, knowing him well enough by now to have predicted the move. She swiveled to find Amara standing with her back against the wall by the door, a broken water glass in hand. Her twin froze at seeing Ashaya instead of Dorian.

“I won’t let you hurt him.” Aware of both Mercy and Dorian standing in the doorway ready to attack, Ashaya raised the gun.

Baring her teeth, Amara threw the makeshift weapon at the opposing wall. “You win today but what about other days? How will you protect him then?”

“Dorian can protect himself.” Her hand began to shake. “Let it go, Amara. Just let it go.”

“No. I’m a monster,” Amara said with cool indifference. “I’ll remain a monster. Kill me or you’ll spend a lifetime waiting for me to strike.”

Ashaya’s hand wavered. “I can’t.” Because no matter what, Amara was her sister. “God help me, but I can’t.” Not like this, not in cold blood.

“Then we’re at a stalemate.” Amara looked at Dorian, then back at Ashaya. “You can’t kill me, and I won’t kill you. Nor am I unselfish enough to kill myself. Yet we both know I can’t be allowed to live.”

Ashaya envied her sister her emotionless calm. “You care nothing for your life?”

“My life . . .” A pause at last. “Have you seen the new network we’re linked into?”

Ashaya gave a shaky nod. The Web of Stars, Dorian had called it. A minuscule network in comparison to the PsyNet, but instead of isolated white stars on black, this network, this web, was filled with connections. Golden threads that tied each star to another, sometimes to more than one. And in between streamed ribbons of color, streamers of joy and light, hope and forgiveness.

“Those pieces of color, they keep getting inside me and now I have these thoughts.” Shoving both hands into her hair, Amara held her head. “I see with a clarity that wasn’t a part of me before. I see that some lives should never come into being. The cost-benefit ratio is too unbalanced.”