Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure

at Amara. “Dorian, I—”
    “Shh.” Raising their linked hands, he brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You don’t have to worry.” He didn’t have a clue in hell as to what they were going to do with Amara, but no one would hurt her while Ashaya was gone.
    Amara laughed and it was hollow, too. “Letting a man control you, big sister? My, we have come down in the world.” Cool acid in every word.
    But the taunt had the opposite affect from the one Dorian was sure had been intended. All hesitation left Ashaya’s face, and she met her twin’s eyes with steely determination. “Should I let you manipulate me instead?” A soft question weighted with fury such as he’d never heard. “Should I let you bury my spirit as well?” Pulling open the door, she walked out.
    Dorian was the only one who saw Amara’s expression—pure, lost confusion. As if she couldn’t believe that Ashaya would choose anything or anyone over her. But Amara wasn’t the one on Dorian’s mind right then. Striding out after Ashaya, he saw her standing several meters away, the pine needles a natural carpet around her.
    Keeping her in his line of sight, he glanced at Clay, one of the two extra packmates he’d scented in the area. While Clay had come here after escorting the Psy guards out of their territory, Mercy had called to say she was heading to the station to prepare for Ashaya’s next broadcast. “Amara,” he said to Clay, “is narcissistic, completely without conscience. Single person she cares about is Ashaya. Watch your back.”
    The other sentinel simply folded his arms. “Exactly like the Councilors then.”
    Dorian grinned despite himself. “Yeah. Where’s my Psy consult?”
    “About ten minutes behind us. Jamie’s here, too.” Clay jerked his head toward the man who’d just walked out from around the side of the house, having apparently done a security sweep. The skilled soldier had a habit of dyeing his hair in incomprehensible combinations of color—today it was a deep indigo streaked with either black or green. He gave a short wave in response to Dorian’s nod, but didn’t walk over to join them, his eyes scanning the area with predatory watchfulness.
    “That’s pretty sedate for Jamie,” Dorian commented.
    “He said it’s his camouflage look.” Clay shook his head. “Getting back to Sascha—what the hell do you expect her to do?”
    Dorian’s gaze drifted out to the wolf-eyed woman who stood so alone against those trees. “I need to know if Amara Aleine can be allowed to live.”
    Leaving Clay, he walked out after his mate. Ashaya had moved deeper into the shadows but he could track her through anything. Reaching her, he put his hand on the back of her head, and urged her gently toward his chest. She came after a short hesitation, but there was nothing broken in her. Instead, she seemed to vibrate with a vivid rage he could feel in his gut. The leopard gave a growl of respect deep within him. This woman’s anger was not something to be ignored.
    “Ready to go?” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, wasn’t the question he wanted to ask, but she’d been pushed incredibly far today. And it would get worse still.
    In his arms, she gave a short nod. “Let’s get it over with.”
    As they parted and began to walk back to the car, he could almost see her changing, almost see her wrapping the layers of emotionless control around herself. By the time they drove out, she sat straight-backed and alien next to him. It infuriated the leopard.

CHAPTER 44
    Ashaya Aleine is a threat to the Net. Given that the other Councilors seem more worried about their political positions than maintaining the purity of Silence, it appears I shall have to be the one to punish Aleine for her treasonous actions. And there has only ever been one sentence for such a crime: death.
     
—From the encrypted personal files of Councilor Henry Scott
     
 
Sascha arrived minutes after Dorian and Ashaya left. “I don’t want to go inside.” She hesitated in front of the greenery-cloaked door.
    Lucas’s arm came around her waist in a familiar embrace. “Talk to me.”
    “The badness coming off her . . . it’s painful.” She rubbed at her chest, trying to soothe the ache. “And yet at the same time, there’s such need in it.”
    “Missing her twin?”
    “Maybe.” She bit her lip. “Since defecting from the Net, I’ve learned that not everything is black and white. There are shades of gray. But, Lucas, I don’t