Psy & Changelings 02 - Visions of Heat

mind as they worked out the details with the others. “There’s something else,” he said, after they’d agreed on a simple plan.
    “The Council.” Sascha leaned forward. “They have to know she’s defected by now. They’ll come after her with every weapon they have. As an F-Psy, she knows far too much.”
    The animal in Vaughn wanted to eliminate the threat and take care of them once and for all—Psy with crushed skulls couldn’t harm his mate—but the man knew it wasn’t so simple. Currently the Council had six heads, but it was a multilimbed monster. Taking out one head would cause two or three more to sprout in its place. The only way it could ever be totally destroyed was for it to be torn out by its very roots. And the only people who could invoke a change that deep were the Psy themselves.
    Faith rested her body against his side. “There may be something that will stay their hand.”
    The beast calmed at the gentle heat of her. “You have an idea?”
    “Less an idea than a knowing.” Her voice was suddenly heavy with grief. “It’s always bothered me why Marine was murdered. He has this sick excitement leading up to the kill he’s planning to make tomorrow, but there was nothing like that with Marine. He didn’t stalk her. The buildup was in how clearly I saw the end result—loss of breath eventually metamorphosing into total suffocation.”
    Her strength impressed him to animal pride. Shifting his hold, he leaned against the railing and pulled her into the cradle formed by his spread legs. She came without complaint, putting her own hands over the ones he’d draped around her hips.
    “Could she have been a chance kill, taken because the opportunity was there?” Judd Lauren’s voice made the jaguar want to snarl—the cat didn’t understand the fine distinction between enemy and uncertain ally.
    “No, there was no sense of him being rushed or unprepared.”
    Vaughn hated to hear the pain in her voice, but knew time alone would heal those wounds. Though they’d never disappear, they’d turn into scars and that was okay, because those scars made them stronger.
    Sascha tapped her foot. “What did your sister do?”
    “She was a cardinal telepath. A communications specialist for the PsyClan.”
    “While I was in the Net, I heard rumors that your PsyClan did a considerable amount of sub-rosa work for the Council.”
    Faith’s fingernails dug into his skin. “And if she was ’pathing for them, then she knew everything that was being sent and received, knew every secret, every detail of every plan.”
    “A liability if she decided not to play the game.” After all, Marine NightStar had been his mate’s sister and Faith was too intelligent, too independent, too human, to have ever made a good Council cipher.
    Faith suddenly gave a violent shake of her head. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. A knowing doesn’t usually give me details—we’ll have to wait and see if we can scan the killer’s mind. Even if the Council comes after me, it won’t be before we incapacitate him.”
    Clay crossed his arms across his chest. “How do you know?”
    “I know .” Her voice was haunted and very, very certain. “We have that much time. The answer will come to us tomorrow.”
    “And if it doesn’t?” Sascha asked quietly.
    “Then at least Marine will have been avenged.” The bone-deep fury in her found an echo in the heart of the jaguar. “I want him to pay for what he did.”
    The males looked to each other and understanding passed in a current. Three predatory changelings and a Psy who might be a trained assassin, they found nothing wrong with Faith’s rage. It was real, it was true, and it would be satisfied.
    “He will.” Vaughn spoke for all of them. “Even if I have to crush his skull myself.”
     
    “Vaughn.” Faith stood beside her mate as he worked on a sculpture. Dressed in nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans, he was pure muscle and heat, amber-gold hair tied carelessly into a queue.
    “What is it, Red?” He put down his tools to run his knuckles over her skin. The touch was tender, the look in his eyes anything but.
    “Why are you doing this now?” She smoothed her hand over one marble curve. “Come to bed. We both need to mentally prepare for tomorrow.”
    “I’m not Psy, baby.” His voice dropped. “I don’t need to calm my mind.”
    She suddenly understood. “I’m ready.”
    “Go to sleep.” He picked up what looked like a chisel. “I’ll