Psy & Changelings 02 - Visions of Heat

do,” Tamsyn muttered. “I swear the juveniles are giving me gray hairs.”
    “How’s Jase?” Dorian asked, and his voice was a distorted rumble in Faith’s mind.
    “Healed. Until the next . . .” Tamsyn’s voice faded.
    Faith gripped her cup tighter, attempting to understand what it was that she was seeing. There was pain, things breaking, such terrible loss, but it wasn’t yet set in stone, it wasn’t yet done. It was a foretelling and it had nothing to do with business. “Seven children are going to die.”
    Vaughn went motionless as those words left his mate’s mouth. He brushed back her hair so he could see her face—eyes closed, lines of concentration carving sharp grooves in creamy skin. “Faith?”
    “Seven children. Not cats. Wolves. Seven wolf children.” She was in his arms, but her gift had taken her somewhere, some when else. “A part of a tunnel is going to collapse. Tonight. Or early tomorrow morning.”
    Everyone was listening. Sascha had already passed Lucas his phone. Vaughn stroked Faith’s back, relieved at the pulse of love that came down the mating bond. She was traveling to places he couldn’t go, but she knew how to come home. “Where, baby? Which part of the tunnels?”
    Her eyes scrunched as if she were squinting to make something out. “There’s a painting on the stone of a wolf pup sleeping under a tree. Oh, there’s another one creeping up on it through the bushes and a third on the branches.”
    “Jesus,” Clay whispered. “It’s the nursery where the littlest ones are.”
    Vaughn, too, remembered the nursery. When DarkRiver had first infiltrated the SnowDancer den to leave their message, “Don’t hurt us and we won’t hurt you,” they’d made sure to place their scent near the nursery, to show that they’d been close to the wolves’ most vulnerable and done no harm. There was no greater indication of friendly intent.
    Vaughn watched Lucas punch in the SnowDancer alpha’s code. The conversation was short, but Hawke apparently took the warning seriously. Lucas was hanging up when Faith shook her head and blinked awake.
    “You okay, Red?”
    “Yes. I’m fine.” She pushed her hand up under his T-shirt to lie against his skin. The jaguar was delighted to be her anchor.
    Leaning down, he kissed her, bringing her completely home. “No cascade?”
    “No. The new shields are working.” Her face grew pensive. “Why the wolves? I don’t know them.”
    “We’re bonded to the SnowDancers,” Vaughn said, realizing he hadn’t explained that aspect of the pack to her. “The blood pact was physically completed soon after Sascha joined us, though we were business allies long before that.”
    “Oh. I—”
    Lucas’s phone beeped.
    The alpha checked the readout and flipped it open. “Hawke?” A pause. “Pups safe?”
    Vaughn could hear the other end of the conversation, but waited until Lucas had hung up to tell Faith. “Hawke said they found a huge crack in one of the walls supporting that area, hidden behind some wall hangings. They’re shoring it up as we speak.” He nuzzled her neck. “He also said thank you for the warning.”
    “What about the last part?” Lucas raised an eyebrow.
    Vaughn growled. “That wolf likes living dangerously.”
    “What did he say?” Faith asked, intrigued by the smile on Sascha’s face. The other Psy looked like she already knew what Hawke might’ve said.
    “Nothing.” Vaughn bit lightly at the shell of her ear, the gesture so possessive that she could feel color attempting to fill her skin. It was at times like this that Psy training came in very useful.
    “Tell me.” She scratched her nails on the skin of his chest. “What did he say?”
    “The damn wolf asked if our F-Psy was pretty. And bloody Lucas said yes.” He sounded less human with every word. “So Hawke said he’d kiss your pretty mouth in thanks the next time he saw you.”
    Everyone except Vaughn was grinning. Even Clay had a small smile on his face. After her initial wariness and in spite of the knowing she’d had about him, Faith had discovered she liked the intense sentinel. She’d invited him to dinner a week ago and, much to Vaughn’s surprise, he’d come. And he’d touched her. A slight brush of knuckles against her cheek, it had told her she was accepted. Was Pack.
    “Well, he can’t,” Faith said, not hesitant in front of these cats who lived and loved with wild fury. “Because I only want to be kissed by