Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure

leopard, he could break me.
     
—From the encrypted personal files of Ashaya Aleine
     
 
Ashaya took a deep breath. “My sister.” She stared out at the eucalyptus trees that had been brought into the region in an ecologically ill-informed decision, and survived all attempts at eradication. When fire struck, they burned up in a blaze of sublime fury. “My sister is like these trees. Perfect to look at, brilliant in her design—her brain is flawless, her intellect staggering—but all it takes to crumble that perfection is a single match.”
    Dorian brushed her shoulder with his fingertips, and she found herself leaning toward him. Right then, she needed his strength, needed to know she wasn’t alone. “She’s not insane,” Ashaya said. “On the surface, she appears to understand the difference between right and wrong. But . . . she doesn’t, not really. She does things without thinking through the consequences, things an ordinary person would consider cruel.”
    Dorian’s eyes turned flint hard without warning, his fingers stilling in their stroking reassurance. “ She’s the sociopath you’ve been protecting.”
    “Yes,” she admitted, refusing to look away, refusing to apologize. “She’s my twin.” And the giver of the greatest gift in Ashaya’s life. “It was the only possible decision.”
    “Not for a true Psy.”
    “I suppose both of us were born flawed, just in different ways.” She waited to see what he would do, this predator who hated the Silent chill of her race with a blind rage that cut.
    “The rest, Ashaya, tell me the rest.”
    It was a relief to talk about Amara without having to obfuscate the truth. “We have an unbreakable twin bond—it’s why she can always find me unless I’m shielding to the best of my ability.” She kept her gaze on the distinctive red girders of the bridge rising up ahead, not wanting to face Dorian’s anger.
    Then his hand closed over the back of her neck and her stomach unclenched. She’d become strangely addicted to his brand of touch. Returning her gaze to him, she found his eyes heavy-lidded as he focused on tracing the line of her collarbone. Somehow, that made it easier to carry on. “The bond’s been there since birth and it’s not something anyone else has ever been able to detect. I don’t know how much you know about psychic networks . . .”
    “Some.” He glanced up and the stroke of his eyes was a caress she could almost feel.
    She barely stopped herself from reaching out to outline the perfection of his lips. “From what I’ve been able to discover, in the past, most emotional connections were visible in the PsyNet. Today, those links have been obliterated.” No more bonds of love. Or even of hate. Just emptiness. “Each mind is now a separate entity.”
    “Yeah? Then how the hell does Keenan know you love him?”
    “He doesn’t.” And that destroyed her. In protecting his life, she’d hurt his child’s heart so much.
    “Hell he doesn’t.” Dorian snorted. “That’s why he pulled that stunt—he knew his mom would drop everything and run to him.”
    Ashaya felt something in the region of her chest bleed at that statement and the shock of it was so powerful, she almost surrendered everything. “There is a link with Keenan—but it’s not visible, either.” Her voice broke. “I think my attempt at maintaining Silence is what makes it invisible—I’ve stifled my own son’s efforts to reach me.”
    “Stop.” He squeezed her nape in a gesture that was as dominant as it was . . . tender.
    It awakened even more of those conflicting emotions inside of her, the very things she needed to keep contained. Because when Amara started playing . . . “My twin will never kill me or put me in lethal danger, however harsh the game. In her own way, I think she loves me—I’m her only playmate, her only friend. But she might kill Keenan.”
    “Why? He’s a child, more importantly, her sister’s child.”
    Her heart rippled again and this time it was a different emotion, a wild, raw thing armed with claws and teeth. “Amara,” she said, trying to ride the violent power of this new feeling, “doesn’t see it that way. She thinks of me as belonging to her and of Keenan as an interloper.” And that was a bizarre twist in an already twisted tale.
    “Are you saying she’s the real danger?”
    “I’m saying that even if I somehow manage to hold off the Council, Amara will never stop hunting me. It doesn’t