Psy & Changelings 02 - Visions of Heat

for you. And don’t try to telepath Sascha or use any other Psy sense.”
    The stars in her eyes were blotted out by blackness in an eyeblink. “They’ve come for me.”
    “Nobody will touch you.” That wasn’t even an option. “Do exactly what I told you. They might be able to track you if you try anything Psy.” He wasn’t Psy, but he was a soldier—he knew about strategy and drawing out a target.
    “Let me help,” she whispered.
    “I’ll tell you if I need you.” He watched understanding spread across her face. The mating bond wasn’t Psy, therefore the others wouldn’t be able to intercept it.
    “Be safe and come back to me.”
    He had every intention of doing that, but first, he had to get rid of some vermin. Going back down the tree took almost no time. He touched the ground with silent feet and started to determine and categorize what his senses were telling him. There was definitely more than one Psy out there.
    That they’d gotten this far into DarkRiver territory without alerting anyone told him they were good. Very good. Vaughn had no intention of underestimating their skills. He also knew he had to get them before they realized he was hunting. Otherwise, they’d smash his mind with a blast of pure power.
    Stripping off the jeans, he cached them a small way up the tree and went jaguar. The Psy might be good, but this was Vaughn’s territory and in this territory, his paws were silent, his senses even keener, his savagery unparalleled. These Psy had broken the first rule when they’d come into an area off-limits to anyone but cats and wolves. They’d broken the second by lying in ambush for his mate.
    The first was a mistake. The second, unforgivable.
    Vaughn walked a ways on the ground before taking to the trees. His sense of smell was not as strong as his sight, but it was far better than an ordinary human’s, sufficient to tell him that there was a Psy to the left of his position and within meters. He padded along a branch until he was directly on top of the male. Dressed in black, his face camouflaged with paint, the Psy lay flat on the ground, one eye pressed to the scope of what looked like a Series III Ramrod.
    An illegal rifle meant for hunting big cats.
    Vaughn didn’t give the Psy any warning. He couldn’t be allowed to send a telepathic signal to his team members, though the communications link clipped to his ear probably indicated they were maintaining mind-silence. They didn’t want to tip off Faith. In that case, they were likely not scanning the area telepathically either, relying on their physical senses alone. Mistake number three—never go into a predator’s territory thinking to beat him at his own game.
    Slamming down on the male’s back, Vaughn crushed his skull between powerful jaws before the Psy ever knew he’d been marked as prey. He’d broken the would-be assassin’s back, and in all likelihood killed him, with the jump, but no one could rise after his brain had been caved in as this Psy’s was.
    One down.
    Pain shot through the mating bond. He froze. Faith had experienced his kill. It had disturbed her. He waited to see what she’d do. And realized the pain was for him—for having to do this for her. The jaguar had no time for such foolishness. Of course he’d do this for her—she was his mate.
    He took to the trees again, knowing she was with him now. That was good. She should see the other side of his nature, know that he wasn’t human, wasn’t civilized. Then he silenced that thinking part and became the predator again. West of the first Psy, he found the second. This one had a small gun in his hand. Not a weapon meant to kill, but to subdue. For Faith.
    This Psy was more wary, scrutinizing the area around him with the trained eyes of a scout, looking up into the trees with every sweep. He knew what hunted him. But jaguars were patient—Vaughn simply waited until the male was scanning a different section, then dispatched him with the same efficient technique he’d used on the first male.
    Two down.
    The third was northwest of the second Psy. He saw their tactic at once. A half circle with his vehicle as the center point. Likely six armed Psy mercenaries. Now two were dead and the positions of the other four had become obvious. Mistake number four. He’d never have placed his men in such a predictable pattern. But, of course, the Psy thought of changelings as animals too stupid to reason.
    Mistake number five.
    Assassin number three was