Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure

“Do you have a first aid kit in here?” Made of a durable material, the pack had survived relatively unscathed. If there was no kit, he could at least grab something with which to wrap her bloody leg.
    “I don’t know,” Ashaya said.
    The first thing he found was a small stunner. It didn’t bother him—he was too fast to make an easy target. And, since she didn’t appear to have claws of her own, having a weapon was smart. But—“Doesn’t do you much good in the pack.”
    “Unfortunately, I appear to have forgotten to prepare for a wild animal attack.”
    Ice and bite. Both sparked along his nerves like wild lightning. When he met her gaze, he realized her eyes were dark. It had been night the one and only other time he’d seen her, but he was certain that wasn’t her real eye color. “Your disguise is good,” he commented, undoing the snap on the main section of the pack. “It’d be even better if you got rid of those braids. Psy never leave their hair out if it’s the least bit uncontrollable.”
    “Mine is more than a little uncontrollable.”
    He could feel her watching him as he went through her things. Luck was with her—he found the small kit emblazoned with the globally recognized red cross symbol within seconds. The tube of dry antiseptic was right on top. “Lie on your stomach. It’s the easiest way to get this stuff in.” He kept his voice controlled and to the point, though his leopard was trying to shove through his skin, agitated by the scent of her blood. “Quickly.”
    She turned and lay down on the carpet of dry pine needles without argument. Using one of his knives, he sliced away the shredded material above the wound and dusted the antiseptic over it. The fast-acting stuff melted, clotting up the wound within seconds. “This’ll give us time to get you to a medic.” The antiseptic was an emergency measure. It healed nothing, its function being to keep bacteria from getting in and blood from leaking out. The fact that it was working meant the lynx hadn’t damaged anything major.
    The kit also came with a stack of “thin skin” bandages. Despite the nickname, the bandages were as tough as stretched steel. “Any pain?” he asked as he wrapped one around her calf, unaccountably infuriated by the damage done to her smooth skin.
    “Nothing medically significant.”
    He sat back on his haunches and watched her get back up into a sitting position. Her eyes went to his handiwork. “You’ve had some training.”
    He bit back the urge to snarl at her frigid tone. The ice of it was a fist around his cock, arousing him against all reason, all sense. “First aid.” He shrugged, stuffed everything back into her pack, then paused. “You need anything from here?”
    “Everything.”
    “Tough.” He did up the straps. “I have to carry you as it is—”
    “I can—”
    “Yeah, you can crawl,” he snapped, “but that isn’t going to get me home in time to catch a few z’s.” And nowhere near fast enough to contain the leopard’s enraged attempts at exploding from within his skin. He couldn’t shift, had never been able to. But the cat didn’t know it was trapped. Right now, it wasn’t even sure if it wanted to savage Ashaya or fuck her. “Since I can’t dump you here, I might as well get rid of you as fast as I can.”
    It was a deliberate attempt to provoke, but her face, a face that had haunted his dreams for two months, remained expressionless. Two damn months, he thought again. Endless nights of waking in a sweat, frustrated and hard. And angry, so angry .
    The sole thing that had kept him from going out and hunting her down had been an enraged defiance against a sexual pull that had begun to turn into an obsession.
    Now here she sat, looking up at him with those eyes that were the wrong color—and that blatant lie only stoked his fury.
    “You have a lot of antipathy toward me.”
    No, what he had was a bad case of lust. But he wasn’t an animal in rut. And his one stupid, drunken mistake in college aside, he didn’t sleep with women who might just freeze his balls off in the night. “I’m going to stash your pack up in the branches. The lynx won’t come near it now that it has my scent on it. Someone can grab it for you tomorrow.”
    Ashaya didn’t argue, knowing she had nothing with which to bargain. “Another debt?” She’d recognized his voice at once as that of the sniper. After all, she’d been hearing it in her dreams for eight long