Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure

of men and women he’d obey was very, very short. Ashaya wasn’t on it. “Give me a reason.”
    “Get off here.” She was leaning so far forward, her head almost touched the sloped windshield of the bullet-shaped car. “Get off.” The strain increased when he didn’t change lanes.
    Intrigued despite himself, he moved with cat-swiftness and took the exit. “Now wha—”
    “Straight through the intersection.”
    The directions kept coming, though when he asked Ashaya where they were going, she remained silent. He might’ve kept questioning her except that fifteen minutes from their destination, he realized where it was that she was taking them. His mouth tightened, even as he wondered how she could’ve possibly found out.
    Twisting the wheel, he pulled to a stop on one side of a wide street, shocking Ashaya into a cry as her body slammed back in the seat. “Why are you stopping?” Her eyes were liquid night when she looked at him, so black that he could see his reflection in the mirror smoothness of them.
    He turned to brace one hand against her headrest. “The only way you could know is if someone’s feeding you information via the PsyNet, or through telepathic contact.”
    “What?” She seemed to have to force herself to think. “No one’s feeding me anything.”
    “Then how do you know?”
    “Know what?!” Her voice rose. Again, it wasn’t particularly Psy. “Drive, Dorian.”
    He thought he heard a plea in those words, told himself he was imagining it. This woman would never unbend enough to beg anyone for anything. “Not until you tell me why we’re going where we are.”
    “I don’t know where we’re going,” she said, eyes wild. “I’m just following his voice.”
    His cat stilled. “Whose?”
    “Keenan’s.” Her own voice was a fierce whisper as she touched her fingertips to the windshield. “My son is screaming for me. If you won’t drive me, I’ll walk.” Her hand went to the door.
    He hit the child lock. “You aren’t going anywhere in this condition.” She wasn’t acting like herself. The ice had well and truly cracked, but it hadn’t cracked right. She was unbalanced, not thinking straight, not functioning on all levels.
    She slammed a fist against the door without warning. “I have to get to him.”
    He scented blood and he realized she’d broken skin with that single hit. Swearing, he reached over and grabbed her hands. “I’ll take you.”
    She stared, as if she didn’t believe him. “Then drive.” Another order.
    Releasing her hands, he did as directed. He didn’t need her to tell him where to go anymore but she did so anyway, as if she couldn’t control herself. The second they pulled up in front of the ranch-style house, she began to try to open her door. He hit the unlock button and she was out a second later. Even with his changeling speed, she was on the porch by the time he caught up.
    He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Wait.”
    She twisted. “I need to—”
    “You go into a leopard home without invitation, be prepared to get your face torn off.” He forced her to look at him. “There might be cubs in there—their mother will rip you to shreds first and ask questions later.”
    Something of his words seemed to get through. “I . . . see.” A battle for rational thought that made her cheekbones cut sharply against her skin. “I need to get inside.”
    Continuing to hold her, he pushed open the door, knowing it wouldn’t be locked. Tamsyn wasn’t stupid, but she also knew this home was guarded around the clock by changeling soldiers. They hadn’t challenged Ashaya, but only because he was with her.
    The instant they stepped foot inside the house, she elbowed him in the ribs, brought a booted foot down on his own, and took off up the steps. Too late, he remembered that Ashaya Aleine was very good at faking calm.
    “Son of a—” Growl building inside his chest, he went after her.
    He caught her in his arms in front of an open upstairs bedroom. He could scent Pack, but he could also scent Keenan Aleine. When he glanced inside, it was to meet Tamsyn’s surprised expression as she looked up from her kneeling position beside the boy’s bed. The child was lying on his side in the fetal position, apparently asleep. Tammy’s cubs were nowhere to be seen so they were probably still at their grandparents’ but Kit, one of the older juveniles, knelt on the other side of the bed, a frown on his face.
    “Dorian?” Tammy said, her