Psy & Changelings 10 - Kiss of Snow

of her hair. Sascha’s skin was colored a warm brown, her hair a curling tumble of soft black, her face softer, more rounded. Both unquestionably beautiful women. Except one had the blood of a reptile, while the other would spill her own to save a stranger.
    “How are you, Sascha darling?” he murmured under his breath as Nikita turned to say something to the other Councilor at the table, the enigmatic Anthony Kyriakus—tall, patrician, his black hair silvered at the temples.
    Sascha made a rueful face from his left. “About to give birth. That’s what it feels like, anyway.”
    Her muttered words made him grin, but he could see that Lucas wasn’t amused. He wondered how big of a fight the two had had today about Sascha’s attendance at this meeting—not that Lucas would’ve taken any chances with really riling her up now that she was so close to her due date. If Hawke had to guess, he’d say the leopard alpha had bitten his tongue even as his animal went insane at the idea of his pregnant mate so close to those who might cause her harm. And for once, Sascha, the empath, seemed clueless.
    Moving his lips to her ear, he murmured, “Sweetheart, you know I love you, but you need to get Luc away from here before he loses his mind.”
    Sascha froze, stared. Her eyes turned midnight within one blink and the next. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “How did I miss that?”
    “Probably because you’re nine and a half months pregnant.”
    Rolling her eyes at him, she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.
    Lucas’s growl was audible.
    “Lucas,” Sascha said at the same moment, “I don’t feel that great.”
    The DarkRiver alpha shoved back his chair and bundled Sascha out of the room so fast that Anthony and Nikita were left staring. Vaughn, having been holding up the wall at their backs, slid into Lucas’s seat with smooth feline grace, while Nathan took the one Sascha had vacated. Across from them, Nikita continued to stare out the door.
    “She’s not about to give birth,” the Councilor said into the silence a second later, and Hawke realized she’d been telepathing her daughter.
    Interesting.
    “How close is she?” Max Shannon asked as he walked in. “Sorry I’m late—got caught up in traffic.”
    “Where’s your J, cop?” Vaughn asked instead of answering the question.
    “On her way,” Max said, referring to his wife, a former Justice Psy who remained uplinked to the Net in spite of her broken Silence. “She might have some info for us.”
    Hawke didn’t trust anyone hooked into the PsyNet given how deep the Psy Councilors’ tentacles were on the psychic plane, but he had nothing against Max’s J in particular. In fact, he kinda liked her—Sophia carried shadows in her eyes. Shadows meant a life lived, a personality beyond the ice.
    Riley stirred beside him. “Did you both read the report we sent through?”
    “Yes,” Nikita and Anthony answered simultaneously.
    Again, interesting. It made Hawke wonder what other machinations the two were getting up to behind everyone else’s backs.
    “Neither one of us orchestrated the attack on your people,” Nikita said. “Whether you believe that or not is up to you, but it makes no logical sense for us to weaken this region at present.”
    Meaning that if the other Councilors hadn’t been a threat, Nikita might well have spilled changeling blood. Then again, Hawke thought, considering everything they knew about her, Nikita followed the money—war would be bad for her bottom line. There was also the fact that her security chief was a man with an impeccable code of honor, a man who’d laid his life on the line to protect the innocent.
    As for Anthony, quite aside from the fact that the cats had vouched for him on previous occasions, the man controlled an empire of F-Psy worth billions. No one and nothing could shake him from that position. More to the point, the NightStar Group had always been willing to deal with anyone who could pay the fees demanded for a forecast: human, Psy or changeling.
    Max tapped the table now. “Plus, neither Nikita nor Anthony have the manpower. Simple as that.” It was an admission of weakness, an opening gambit.
    “Who else can you rule out?” Nathan, the most senior of Lucas’s sentinels and a man with a head as calm and clear as Riley’s, leaned forward.
    “It’s not Kaleb,” Nikita said at once. “He’s distracted by another matter at present.”
    “Our information,” Riley inserted, “is