Psy & Changelings 06 - Branded by Fire

up, Sascha. Pick up.”
     
     
    Sascha closed the cell phone and swallowed. It rang in her hand moments later. “Lucas?”
    “Sascha, I can feel you hurting. What is it?”
    And that quickly, her terror was buried under a flood of love. “I need to get hold of Nikita.” She relayed what Mercy had told her.
    “Damn.” A pause. “You want me to call?”
    “No, I’ll do it. I’ll call you after.” Hanging up, she coded in a number she’d never expected to use again.
    Nikita answered on the first ring. “You got my package.”
    “It’s not about that.” She kept her tone even with effort—Nikita didn’t understand her daughter’s emotional nature. She probably never would. But she was still Sascha’s mother. “We’ve had a tip that Councilors have all been targeted for assassination. Check the building for explosives.”
    It was a reflection of the world she lived in that Nikita didn’t argue, just hung up after telling Sascha she’d get back to her. Shaking from the impact of that short conversation, the first nonbusiness one she’d had with Nikita since her mother disowned her, Sascha slid down the aerie wall and to the floor. Tremors shifted over her body from head to foot.
    She wanted Lucas. I need you. A thought sent through the mating bond, needy and vulnerable. It was as if she’d lost all her strength, become the fractured creature she’d been after she first learned what had been done to her, how her gift had been stifled, her mind almost destroyed. Lucas.
    Her mate’s love moved to surround her, comfort her, hold her. She closed her eyes and wrapped that feeling around her very senses, cocooning herself in the savage wildness of him. But a footstep sounded on the balcony what felt like an instant later, breaking her concentration. She looked up to see a striking blond male with the mark of a sentinel tattooed onto his arm. And she knew Lucas had sent him.
    Dorian sat down beside her. “Hey.” When he put his arm around her shoulders, she resisted. “Come on, Sascha darling.” A gentle tease. “You’ve helped me more times than I can count. Just think of me as Luc’s stand-in.”
    Softening, she let him hug her. “What about Ashaya?” The other woman was both Psy and newly mated. She might not understand that at this moment, Dorian was simply giving a packmate what she needed to hold herself together until her mate got to her.
    “She’s seen inside me, seen how you helped me stay sane—”
    “You did that yourself.” He’d always been impossibly strong.
    He squeezed her. “I’m saying she understands. She’s the one who sent me to you.”
    “I thought—Lucas?”
    “I got his call after Shaya’s. She felt something from you in the Net.” He rubbed his cheek over her hair. “We get to look after you sometimes.”
    Giving in, she turned into his hold, but other than asking him to call Vaughn to make sure Faith had gotten a message to her father, she said nothing . . . not until Lucas appeared in the doorway. She was barely aware of Dorian leaving, her eyes focused on Lucas. He was sweating, his T-shirt soaked. Tearing it off, he threw it to the side and scooped her up into his lap as he sat down on one of the huge cushions that served as their sofas.
    Once, she would’ve considered her need for him a flaw, a weakness. Today, she all but crawled into him, the scent of him as familiar to her as the sound of her own heartbeat.
    “I’m all sweaty,” he murmured some time later.
    She pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “You look good sweaty.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “You must’ve broken a few speed records getting here.” He’d been in the city office, which meant he’d driven as far into the forest as he could, then run the rest of the way on foot.
    “We’ll be paying fines till the next century.” A stroke down her back. “You okay?”
    “It hit me hard. Hearing her voice.” She swallowed. “I’ve been avoiding any business meetings with her lately and you’ve been letting me.”
    “We all get a few free passes.” Another stroke. “She say anything to hurt you?”
    “No. She’s checking for explosives.” A tear streaked down her cheek even as she finished that sentence. “What’s wrong with me?” Frustrated, she dashed away the streak of wet. “I’m not this weak! I’m an alpha’s mate!”
    “Hey.” Lucas grabbed her fisted hand. “You had a shock, the adrenaline’s probably still screaming through