Psy & Changelings 01 - Slave to Sensation

in order to take them down. They’d all failed. Until DarkRiver. Lucas and his sentinels had not only found the den, they’d infiltrated it. Their sole purpose had been to leave behind a simple message.
    Don’t hurt us and we won’t hurt you. DR.
    A day later, a response had been found in Lucas’s lair.
    Agreed. SD.
    Sometimes it was good being an animal. In the world of the Psy and even in the human world, such negotiations could’ve taken months. In the years following that initial contact, they’d started to edge warily toward a more workable relationship. But that simple rule remained—don’t hurt us and we won’t hurt you.
    Hawke turned right ahead of them.
    â€œWhat’s on the left?” Sascha asked, looking down that corridor.
    â€œHomes.” When they’d first breached the tunnels, DarkRiver had ensured the SnowDancers knew that they’d been near the homes of their pups and had left without doing harm. There was no clearer indication of friendship.
    A few minutes later, they came to another fork. The corridors went off in several different directions. Ahead, they could see rooms opening up and people walking about. Hawke took them through the rightmost corridor and stopped in front of a closed door.
    Beside him, Lucas felt Sascha’s whole body go quiet. “Hawke,” she said, an odd note in her voice. “What can I feel behind that door?”
    Those icy eyes met theirs. “You’ll see.” Pushing open the door, he walked in.
    Lucas went in ahead of Sascha, every one of his senses primed for trouble. Vaughn and Clay were already nearby, having taken human form and put on stolen clothing to throw the wolves off their scent. It would be hard getting out if something happened. Hard, but not impossible. Otherwise Lucas would’ve never brought his mate here.
    However, what awaited them in the room wasn’t anything he could’ve prepared for. Five people of varying ages sat around a large circular table. They didn’t smell like wolf. Then one of them raised her head and night-sky eyes met his. “Christ!” He let Sascha enter but left the door open.
    Sascha knew who the five people were the instant she saw them—Nikita had told her the details of the case. “The Lauren family,” she whispered. She’d never known the ages of the five Psy who’d disappeared into SnowDancer territory, had never expected any of them to be children, because even after everything she’d learned, she hadn’t been ready to admit that her own people would so callously turn their backs on the most innocent of the innocent.
    The oldest two were males, one dark blond, the other with hair the color of rich chocolate. Both had human eyes. The fair-haired male looked to be around forty, but the other was nearer Sascha’s age. Then there was a teenage girl with deep red hair and the eyes of a cardinal Psy. She sat protectively next to a young boy who had the same hair and the same eyes. Last, a girl of about ten sat between the two older males. She had strawberry blonde hair and the feel of a powerful Psy. Her eyes were a pale green.
    â€œHow?” How had they survived being cut off from the Net? How had they survived at all?
    â€œWe’re not cold-blooded murderers, Sascha.” Hawke’s voice was ice. “Not like the Psy.” He sat down and Sascha let Lucas nudge her into a seat, too.
    The teenager’s head shot up and Sascha swore she felt a spike of temper. “You’re making generalizations again. That’s the same as saying all wolves are vicious.”
    Instead of getting angry, Hawke seemed to relax a fraction. “Sascha Duncan, meet Sienna Lauren. Next to her is her brother, Toby.” He gestured to the two older males.
    The blond one stood, his bearing as erect as a soldier’s. “I’m Walker Lauren. Sienna and Toby are the children of my deceased sister. This is my daughter, Marlee.” He nodded to the girl who sat beside him. A small hand slipped into his and his fingers curled around it.
    â€œI’m Judd Lauren,” the dark-haired man said after Walker sat down. “Walker’s brother.”
    â€œI don’t understand.” Sascha could barely think through the riot of questions in her mind. “You’re listed as dead on the Net.” And the NetMind did not make mistakes.
    â€œAs far as the Net is concerned, we are,”