Psy & Changelings 02 - Visions of Heat

each adult in his or her own personal box. Yet deep within that compound was a Psy, and whoever that person was, he or she was being protected by others of their kind. Rarely did a non-Council Psy qualify for such a privilege. Curiosity aroused, he prowled around the entire perimeter, out of range of the monitoring devices. It took him less than ten minutes to discover a way in—the Psy race’s sense of arrogance had led them, once again, to disregard the animals with whom they shared the Earth.
    Or perhaps, the man thought within the beast, the Psy just didn’t understand the capabilities of the other races. To them, changelings and humans were nothing because they couldn’t do the things the Psy could with their minds. They’d forgotten that it was the mind that moved the body, and animals were very, very good at using their bodies.
    Climbing onto a tree branch that would lead him over the first fence and into the compound, the cat’s heart beat in anticipation. But even the jaguar knew he couldn’t do this. He had no reason to go in there and put himself in danger. Danger didn’t bother either man or beast, but the cat’s curiosity was held back by a deeper emotion—loyalty.
    Vaughn was a DarkRiver sentinel and that duty overcame every other emotion, every other need. Later tonight, he was supposed to be guarding Sascha Duncan, his alpha’s mate, while Lucas attended a meeting at the SnowDancer den. Vaughn knew Sascha had agreed to stay behind reluctantly and only because she’d known Lucas could travel faster without her. And Lucas had only gone because he trusted his sentinels to keep her safe.
    With a last lingering look into the guarded compound, Vaughn backed down the branch, leaped to the ground, and started to head toward Lucas’s lair. He hadn’t forgotten and he hadn’t given up. The mystery of a Psy living so close to changeling territory would be solved. No one escaped the jaguar once he was on their trail.
     
    Faith stared out the kitchen window, and though only darkness looked back at her, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being stalked. Something very dangerous circled the fences that kept her isolated from the outside world . Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. And froze. She was Psy—why was she reacting like this? Was it the dark visions? Were they affecting her mental shields? Dropping her arms through sheer strength of will, she went to turn from the window.
    And found she couldn’t.
    Instead, she pressed forward, lifting one hand to press against the glass, as if to reach outside. Outside. It was a world she hardly knew. She’d always lived inside walls, had had to live inside them. On the outside, the threat of psychic disintegration was a continuous drumbeat in her head, a pounding echo she couldn’t block. On the outside, emotions hit at her from every angle and she saw things that were inhuman and vicious and painful. On the outside, she was breakable. It was far safer to live behind walls.
    But now the walls were cracking. Now things were getting in and she couldn’t escape them. She knew that as certainly as she knew she couldn’t escape whatever it was that prowled the edges of her property. The predator hunting her wouldn’t rest until he had her in his claws. She should’ve been afraid. But she was Psy—she felt no fear. Except when she slept. That was when she felt so much, she worried that her PsyNet shields would crack, revealing her to the Council. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t want to fall asleep. What if she died again, and this time it was for real?
    The communication console chimed into the endless silence that was her life. This late at night, it was an unexpected interruption—the M-Psy had prescribed certain hours of sleep for her.
    She looked away from the window at last. As she walked, a sense of impending disaster seemed to cloak her, a sinister knowing that lay somewhere in the shadowlands between a true foretelling and the merest inkling of what might be. This, too, was new, this heavy awareness of something hovering maliciously in the wings, just waiting for her guard to slip.
    Schooling her face to show nothing of her internal confusion, she pressed the answer key on the touch pad. The face that appeared on-screen was not one she’d anticipated. “Father.”
    Anthony Kyriakus was the head of her family. Until she’d officially reached adulthood at twenty, he’d shared custody of her with Zanna Liskowski, with