Psy & Changelings 01 - Slave to Sensation

soft.
    His brows raised. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
    â€œI’ve been practicing.” She sounded almost proud of herself, as though she was getting past the fear that she was “flawed.” “Vaughn and Clay are circling us, one in front, one behind.”
    â€œLet’s go.” He started to walk into the forest, which appeared to go on endlessly, the dark green firs so close together they blotted out the sun. They walked for five minutes before he found the rutted path half-hidden by carefully strewn forest debris.
    â€œUsually,” he told Sascha, “if you got this far, there’d be a welcoming committee awaiting you. Nobody’s ever found a single bone of the missing.” The predator in him appreciated the efficiency.
    â€œDo you think they eat them?”
    He grinned at her gory attempt at a joke. “Nah. Even wolves have higher standards than to feed on human carrion.”
    Her hand rose to his shoulder. Something taut in him relaxed. His mate was starting to trust him on a level so deep she was completely unaware of it.
    Thirty minutes later, they finally reached the end of the winding path, only to find themselves up against the craggy stone face of a mountain that seemed to reach for the sky. It looked like the path simply stopped, an illusion that had protected the SnowDancers for years.
    â€œOpen up, Hawke.” He allowed his voice to carry. Leopards and wolves were their solitary audience.
    A few seconds later, the bottom of the mountain magically started to crack open. The “door” slid back just far enough to allow them to enter. Lucas could feel Sascha’s fascination at the structure but waited until they were inside to speak. The door closed behind them without any hint that it had ever been open.
    Sascha’s gasp echoed off the stone walls as lights came on all around them, illuminating a long tunnel beautifully paved with river stones. Paintings graced every surface, the artist having used the rock of the tunnel as a canvas. The scenes were of the wild, of wolves running, of the different faces of the forest. There was something hypnotically beautiful about the images. Beautiful and dangerous.
    â€œWelcome.” Hawke stepped out of the shadows and raised a brow. “Should I let your sentinels in?”
    â€œNo need.” Lucas smiled. Vaughn and Clay were already inside. Dorian was to remain on the outside.
    Hawke’s eyes betrayed nothing but Lucas knew the other alpha was pissed that his people had managed to get inside . . . again. “Care to share?”
    â€œEveryone needs secrets. Don’t tell me you can’t get into our safe houses.”
    Hawke scowled. “What about mutual trust?”
    Sascha laughed and both men turned to look at her, their beasts fascinated by the purity of the sound. It was, Lucas realized, the first time he’d ever heard her laugh. The possessive need in him tightened to the most aching kind of tenderness. She meant more to him than she’d ever know. If she died, so would his heart.
    â€œYou’re like two wild animals who aren’t quite sure you believe the other’s offer of peace. I wonder how long you’ll circle around each other before you decide.” She shook her head, those eerie eyes sparkling with feminine amusement. At that moment she was everything the beast in him craved, woman and passion, laughter and play, sensuality and hunger.
    Lucas felt Hawke take a deep breath. When he looked back at the wolf, he read a simple message on his face: If she weren’t yours . . .
    â€œBut she is,” Lucas said, one predator to another, one alpha to another.
    Sascha, who was staring at one of the paintings, didn’t hear. “These are lovely, Hawke.” She turned to him. “Is the artist one of your pack?”
    Hawke’s face seemed to harden till it was as unfeeling as the rock upon which the paint had been laid. “She was.” He jerked his head behind him. “Let’s go.”
    Troubled eyes met Lucas’s when he went to take Sascha’s hand. He shook his head—he knew nothing of the artist.
    â€œThey live underground?” Sascha asked after they’d been walking for five minutes, going steadily deeper.
    â€œSome of them. This functions as their Pack headquarters.” Before the SnowDancers had become as feared as they now were, group after group had tried to find the hideout