Slave to Sensation

Lucas watched Sascha walk away, his eyes narrowed. Something had changed. Her body was stiff and if she hadn’t been Psy, he’d have said she was angry. But her race were known to adopt stiff postures in their efforts to turn themselves into robots. The heating unit flicked off and he reached out to transfer the pizza onto a big plate.

Rina had brought too much. Even with two other soldiers there wolfing it down, they’d ended up with almost a whole pizza left over. The three had come over to talk to him about security for one of the safe houses but Rina had stayed behind to discuss Dorian. She was still young and seeing the sentinel almost lose it had shaken her.

Lucas picked up the plate and only then noticed that the coffee was ready. Sascha. She kept surprising him. Carrying the plate into the living room, he put it on a low table that sat in one corner of the room, before dragging the table to the cushion that Sascha had curled up against.

The cushions had been designed by Tara, a packmate. Meant to accommodate leopard bodies as well as human, there really was no way to sit stiffly in them.

Pleased by the liquid softness of her limbs, he smiled. “Grab a piece. I’ll get the coffee.”

“No coffee for me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t… require it.”

“Water?”

“Thank you.”

As he poured the coffee, he thought back over that small hesitation. Had she been about to say that she didn’t like the taste of coffee? Or was he trying to convince himself of things that didn’t exist in order to justify this inappropriate attraction?

He was alpha, used to putting the pack above everything. This hunger for Sascha was a threat to that loyalty, a temptation that might lead to sleeping with the worst sort of enemy. But walking away wasn’t an option-he’d never been a quitter and he was determined to find out what lay beneath that hard Psy shell.

All their lives might depend upon it.

Sascha was sitting in the same position when he returned. Putting her water and his coffee beside the pizza, he took a slice and deliberately collapsed on the same sofa she’d chosen, letting his body lie loosely against the cushion a scant couple of inches from hers. “Give it a try.” He raised the slice to her mouth.

She hesitated and then took a small bite. “What flavor is this?”

He shrugged. “Mexican, I think.” Taking a big bite, he watched her face as she analyzed the textures. Or was she savoring them? He raised it to her mouth again. “Bite.”

Those eerie eyes seem to flash. “I’m not one of your pack to be given orders.”

Temper, temper, he thought, the panther in him intrigued by that hint of fire. “Please.”

After another small pause, she leaned forward and bit. This time she took more… and confirmed every one of his beliefs about her. Demolishing the rest of the piece, he picked up another one. She ate a good third.

“Enough?”

“Yes, thank you.” She reached for her water. “Do you want your coffee?”

“Thanks.” The mug was warm in his hands but it was the heat of her that he could feel most strongly. Her body was alive. Her body felt. Her body knew sensation. The crucial question was, was her mind strong enough to overpower her animal instincts?

They sat quietly until Sascha put down her water and turned to him. “Tell me about the murders.”

A chill cooled the heat of his body. Getting rid of his own empty mug, he dropped his head against the cushion back. “We’ve tracked down seven confirmed victims in the past three years. Kylie was number eight. And Brenna, the SnowDancer who was taken, will be the ninth if we don’t find her in time.”

“So many?” It was a whisper.

“Yeah. But my gut says we haven’t tagged all of his past kills-he’s too good at this.”

“Are you sure it’s a man?”

He clenched his fists hard enough to hurt. “Yes.”

“Why haven’t you done more to track him down?”

“Kylie was murdered six months ago. At the time, we didn’t know it was a serial and, given the clear evidence of Psy involvement, we thought Enforcement would quickly close the case. We gave them no problems regarding jurisdiction-we wanted blood but we didn’t want war with the Psy.

“We were willing to settle for an Enforcement prosecution.” It had nearly ripped the hearts out of them but they’d done it for the sake of their young. Dorian’s rage hadn’t been so great that he’d forgotten the vow he’d made simply by being born-to protect the vulnerable. “We understood that one monster didn’t define a whole race. Even changelings sometimes spawn serial killers.” Though they had them in the fewest numbers of the three races.

“Everyone believed the Council would launch a hunt on the PsyNet and hand over the culprit. With your psychic skills, there’d be no question of his guilt. Until then the Council had done some questionable things, but no one thought they’d protect a killer.”

Sascha’s body seemed to curl up further, as if she were trying to hug herself. “What have you learned about him since you started searching?”