Slave to Sensation p-1

by Nalini Singh

  “Playing,” she said, using his word. The feel of him was everywhere, inside and outside. She wanted to taste him so badly, she ached. “Let me.”

  He leaned down and lapped at her nipple through the T-shirt, the gesture so feline that she was shocked into a moan. “I’m not feeling playful.”

  “Don’t you want me to…” She used her mental hands to squeeze him tight, to show him what he could have.

  He bit the side of her neck hard enough to mark but not hurt. “Stop that.”

  “Why?” At that moment it didn’t occur to Sascha that she shouldn’t have been able to connect to him so easily, that he was changeling and she was Psy and no Psy had ever been able to enter a changeling mind without effort. All she knew was that she was burning up for him.

  He braced himself on his hands above her, setting her free to grasp the hard length of his erection. He thrust into her hold, head thrown back, the tendons on his neck standing out in sharp relief. Not quite knowing how she knew what to do, she pushed up until she could slide her legs between the vee created by his kneeling thighs.

  As he watched to see what she’d do next, she slithered her body down the bed until the hard evidence of his hunger was right above her. Holding onto his hips, she raised her head off the bed and took him inside her mouth.

  His growl made every nerve in her body flicker with warning. But she didn’t stop. She had skin privileges and she was going to take every advantage. He tasted better than her dreams, as rich and delectable as the most exquisite chocolate, as exotic as the panther he was.

  Her neck was getting tired but she didn’t want to let go. Pulling at his hips, she moved down but he refused to follow, sliding slowly out of her mouth and driving her to the edge of insanity.

  Lucas, please. It was a wild plea from her mind to his.

  “On the condition that you let me do the same.” His voice was rough, hot, demanding. “No backing away.”

  You can do anything you like! she agreed without thought, so drunk on the overload of sensory pleasure that she was his slave.

  He purred and did as she’d asked, moving his hips just enough to tease, to tempt. Craving him so badly that she could no longer function on any level but the physical, she sucked hard, squeezing her hands over the taut muscles of his buttocks. He groaned as she used her tongue to stroke the underside of his erection. She knew what he liked, had learned from the dreams that weren’t dreams. Given free rein over his body, she used every skill she had to drive her wild lover to distraction.

  “Harder, kitten.” It was a hoarse whisper.

  She complied, digging her nails into his flesh. The tiny pleasure-pain made his muscles lock around her. Moaning deep in her throat, she poured everything she had into the loving, licking, sucking, giving.

  He came for her in shuddering waves, a wordless growl emanating from his throat.

  Maybe ten minutes later, Sascha realized she was still wearing the T-shirt. She tried to extricate herself from Lucas, who had her completely pinned to the bed, but he refused to move. He’d buried his face against her and now he licked out at her pulse, lazily tasting the salt on her.

  She bit the side of his neck. “Lucas.”

  A low purr vibrated against her breasts, shocking sensation down her aroused body. Every nerve ending quivered in need so deep it hurt.

  “I want to take off this T-shirt.” It felt too hot, too confining. Even her panties were too much—she wanted to feel every inch of sweat-slick skin, every stroke of wild sensuality.

  He rolled off her. His slitted eyes glowed a soft green in the darkness. They didn’t leave her for an instant and the second she was naked, he pounced. Once again she found herself at his mercy. This time she was lying on her stomach, his hard length buried in the crease of her buttocks. “But you…”

  He ran his fingernails up her side, making her entire body shiver. “I’m not human, Sascha. It takes more than a single round to leave me unable to perform.” He nibbled at the shell of her ear.

  “Oh.”

  “Now it’s my turn.” Those strong teem scraped her shoulder and one of his hands slipped under her body to touch the damp curls between her thighs.

  She made a soft noise that was so full of need she startled herself. Lucas seemed to like it. Dipping lower, he rubbed at her, threatening to drive her to insanity.

  Lucas. It was an intimate whisper.

  “Raise your bottom for me,” he said into her ear, lifting his body off hers.

  Blushing, but unwilling to miss out on anything he wanted to show her, she bent her knees and pushed up. He moved the hand petting her curls to flatten over her stomach while his free hand stroked her bottom. She’d never felt more exposed, more vulnerable.

  The hand on her bottom slipped down to the insides of her thighs and he pushed gently until she’d widened her stance. A throaty rumble sounded from behind her. Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation.

  “Your scent is like a drug to my senses.” His voice was so rough she could barely understand him.

  With another murmur that was more sound than words, he put one hand on her hip while the other continued to lie against her stomach and then he tasted her. A scream tore at her throat at the first slow lick. She could feel herself trembling and it was only the start.

  Unhurried and careful, he lapped at her like a cat with a bowl of cream, intent on tasting every drop. Her entire body turned into liquid flame. She could barely breathe through the sensations, her face burning with heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

  He moved the hand on her hip down to the inside of her thigh again. She let him widen her stance even more, let him use his fingers to spread her for a deeper taste, let him savor her until she saw stars. She just… let him. He took full advantage and she learned what it was like to be loved by an alpha panther who thought she belonged to him.

  There was nothing tentative about his intimate kiss. Every touch screamed possession. The fingers on her thigh were hot and strong, holding her where he wanted her as his mouth ravaged her with a kind of rough tenderness she had no defense against.

  She was almost insane with need when he nipped at her bottom with his teeth. “I’m sorry, kitten. I’m moving too fast but I want to be inside you.”

  Fast? He thought this was fast? What was Lucas’s definition of slow? I need you. She was speaking to him on the most private of levels, not even thinking about what she was doing so easily.

  She sensed him rise behind her, nerves taut with expectation. A soft scream escaped when he started to push into her. It felt like he was invading more than her body—he was going deep into her mind. And she wanted him deeper.

  He surged forward in response to her silent urging. A sharp note of unexpected pain infiltrated her pleasure. “Wh-what? Lucas?”

  “Shh. Never again.” His lips kissed the line of her spine, distracting her with sensation. “You feel so good, darling, so hot and tight. Once isn’t going to be enough.”

  The erotic whispers sent shivers racing across her skin. At the same time, the hand on her stomach pushed upward and she rose to press her back against his chest as he lay buried deep inside her. She felt the pulse of his heartbeat within her and it was exquisite, a carnal kiss unlike any other.

  Reacting to instincts so old they had no name, she rotated her hips in a slow circle. His arm tightened against her stomach, enclosing her in pure muscle. The heat of his chest almost burned—it felt as if his body temperature was much higher than hers. One masculine hand rose to close over her breast, his fingers plucking at the nipple. Crying out, she moved again.

  The hand on her breast slipped to clasp her hip. “Stop that.”

  She repeated the motion.

  And felt the panther in Lucas take over. He pulled out almost all the way and then surged deep. Her body started to shake. Unable to remain still, she pushed back toward him.

  His teeth closed over the curve of her neck, holding her in place as he drove them both to th
e edge. The hold wasn’t painful, just so proprietary that she felt utterly possessed. It was a reminder that her lover wasn’t human, wasn’t Psy, wasn’t controllable.

  She adored him exactly as he was.

  His hand slipped to the curls between her legs, finding the throbbing nub that she ached to have caressed. He knew perfectly how to rub, how to tease. Her scream came from deep inside her soul. In her passion, she reached back and scraped her nails down his biceps.

  With a growl, he let go of her neck and began to move so hard and fast she could no longer meet him. Instead, she melted, accepting his hunger, his need, his claim, even as her body shattered into a thousand pieces, brilliant sparks of primitive color flashing before her eyes.

  To her shock, Lucas pulled out of her. Before she could complain, he’d turned her in his arms and pulled her to sit with her legs around his hips. He was so deep inside her barely a breath later that she couldn’t think.

  “Open your eyes.” A demand against her mouth.

  She obeyed without thought. And met the glowing green of eyes gone utterly panther. “Why?”

  “Fireworks,” he whispered and took her lips in a kiss so hungry she felt consumed.

  This time, his movements were deep and fast and unstoppable. She rode the storm, let him push her over again and again, let her wildness out to play. It was the most intimate, most dangerous, most wonderful dance of her life. When his muscular body shuddered in her arms and he let out a rough shout, she felt every feminine instinct she had moan in pleasure.

  “Mine.” That absolute statement was the last word he said in a long, long while.

  They’d just finished breakfast when Lucas informed Sascha he was going to speak to Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha whom she’d never met, at least not while conscious. Vaughn and Mercy, who were also sitting at the table with them, looked up.

  “You’re on guard here,” he told them. “I’m taking Clay and Dorian.”

  Sascha took a sip of tea and thought about what she was going to do. Returning home wasn’t an option. Ever. After the night she’d spent in Lucas’s arms, she could no longer keep up the pretence of being a normal Psy. Her shields were holding on the psychic plane but maintaining her mask in the real world had become impossible.

  Then there was the fact that Lucas had marked her.

  The second she’d walked into the kitchen, Tamsyn’s eyes had gone to the bite mark on her neck. She’d thought the healer would be angry given what she’d told Sascha the day before. Instead, the other woman had grinned and said, “I bet you’re starving.”

  So far no one had mentioned the screams. Or the long scratch marks on Lucas’s arms. She’d nearly died when she’d come down to find him sitting at the table wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt. It was one thing to come apart in his embrace, quite another to have others bear witness to her utter surrender. At least he was putting on his black leather-synth jacket for the meeting with Hawke.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, though she’d made no move to leave. “You’re not strong enough to hack the Net again even if we agree to your idiotic plan. Stay out of it. Rest.”

  He was right. Ghosting Henry had drained her more than she’d guessed. It would take at least one more day for her to recover enough to implement the plan. “I can only last another few days.” The pressure inside her was intensifying minute by minute. “We have to act before then or they’re going to find out about me and attempt containment.”

  Those cat-green eyes narrowed. “No one is going to contain you.” He walked around to her side of the table and bent down to kiss her right in front of his people. It was no peck on the cheek. She gripped onto his waist and held on as he kissed her in a way that was blatantly sexual and possessive without end.

  A minute later he was gone, leaving her starving for him. When she glanced at the two sentinels, she saw no reaction on their faces. Vaughn scared her. He wasn’t cold and distant like Clay, but there was a prowling darkness behind his eyes that made her wonder just how close to the surface his beast was.

  Mercy was a little more approachable but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the sentinels wanted her gone. She couldn’t blame them. She was part of a race guilty of helping the worst kind of scum. Who knew what she’d drag Lucas into?

  “Are you here basically for my safety?” she asked, aware that there weren’t any other vulnerable people in the house.

  They nodded.

  “Thank you.” She put her hands on the table and made herself meet the male sentinel’s eyes. “I know I’m not what Lucas needs but let me have him for a few more days. After that I won’t be a problem.” She refused to allow self-pity to destroy the magnificence of what she was experiencing, but what she’d said was fact.

  The changelings didn’t know the extent of the PsyNet. It had eyes and ears in every corner of the world, shadows within shadows. It was impossible to escape it physically even if her mind could somehow survive the mental separation.

  Wherever she went, whatever she did, they’d hunt her down. They would’ve done so for any renegade because dissent undermined the Silence Protocol. However, her case would garner an extreme reaction—she was Nikita’s daughter. Not only did she know too much, her defection would strike at the heart of the Council’s image of invincibility.

  Vaughn leaned forward, those strange almost gold-colored eyes focused completely on her. “If I’d thought you were going to harm Lucas, I would’ve ensured you never had the chance.”

  “So the fact I’m still breathing is a vote of confidence?” Sascha would not let him intimidate her, no matter that he made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in primordial warning.

  His lip quirked. “No.”

  Mercy put down her coffee cup. “Stop playing with her mind, Vaughn. I think she’s been through enough.”

  “I think our Psy is a lot tougher than she looks, aren’t you, Sascha?” Dark-gold eyes searched her face for something she couldn’t even begin to guess at. She just knew that what was looking at her wasn’t wholly civilized.

  “I had to be to survive.” Sascha held his gaze. “Even as a child, I knew that if they found out I was different, I’d be slated for rehabilitation—a kind of psychic brainwipe.” To this day, she could hear the shuffling feet and mumbled whispers of the rehabilitated as they traversed the halls in the inner sanctum of the Center.

  She should never have heard those sounds or seen the nightmarish creatures who’d made them, but Nikita had taken her in one day when she’d been barely ten years old. She’d never forget her mother’s words—“Don’t ever be anything but perfect, Sascha. This is the result of failure.”

  Sascha had been a teenager before she’d understood why Nikita had gone that far. She had to have been aware of her child’s flaw, had to have seen inside her mind before she was old enough to protect herself.

  The harsh gesture had worked—to the outside world, Sascha had never been anything less than perfect. She’d even convinced Nikita that her flawed daughter had become a Psy to the absolute core. Until she’d started cracking apart.

  “I can’t believe they do that to their own people,” Mercy muttered in disgust. “How can anyone choose to live like that? I’d prefer death.”

  Mercy’s words had Sascha’s throat closing up. “I need to ask you both a favor.”

  Vaughn raised a brow. He might have let her live but she knew he was withholding final judgment.

  “If I get taken in when we put the plan into effect, if I get sent to the Center instead of being executed,” she began, “I want you to kill me. I won’t be able to do it myself because they’ll lock my mind.” A mental strait-jacket that she knew would propel her into the final madness.

  “That’s Lucas’s call,” Mercy said, her tone pure steel. It was an indication that for all her beauty, she was a soldier first and a woman second.

  “I don’t want him to do it.” Not anymore, not when she knew what it would cost him. “He shouldn’t have to watch someone h
e cares for die.” In Vaughn’s eyes, she saw awareness of Lucas’s past. “Even if you feel nothing for me, do it for him. He deserves better than to witness me being turned into a vegetable.”

  Vaughn stood and she thought he was rejecting her plea. But instead of leaving the room, he walked around to the back of her chair. Putting his hands on the wood, he leaned down until his lips touched her neck. She froze, feeling the power contained in that dangerous male body. He could snap her neck with one hand.

  CHAPTER 19

  “You have skin privileges,” he said against her pulse, biting down very gently. “You’re Pack.”

  It was the last thing she’d ever expected to hear.

  Mercy closed her hand over Sascha’s clenched fist. “We don’t let Pack members die without a damn good fight.”

  Sascha felt tears burn at her eyes. “You don’t understand!”

  Vaughn nuzzled his way up her neck and bit her lightly on the ear before standing to his full height, his hands on her shoulders. “We understand you think the PsyNet is omnipotent. That’s because it’s all you’ve ever been taught.” He moved around to lean against the table by her side. “But the rules have changed.”

  “What rules?” she said, feeling defeated by their refusal to see the truth. “They’re just as powerful, just as deadly.”

  “But you aren’t anything they’ve ever seen,” Mercy said.

  Sascha looked up into the other woman’s face. “I’m only a broken Psy.”

  “Are you?” Vaughn ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Startled once again, she didn’t know how to react. She’d seen the way the leopards touched each other but had never expected to be on the receiving end of such casual affection. Especially from the deadly sentinels. “Or are you something else entirely?”

  A retort was on the tip of Sascha’s tongue when she frowned and remembered those secret family files she’d retrieved but never examined. “I need to think,” she muttered, already withdrawing into her mind.

  Neither of the sentinels said a word. They simply ensured her protection while she sat there thumbing through pages and pages of mental data. Somewhere during that time, Tamsyn came into the kitchen and started baking cookies. With one corner of her mind, Sascha felt the healer’s sorrow at having had to send Julian and Roman away. Lucas had shared the truth of their absence last night, trusting her more than she trusted herself. Tamsyn couldn’t, wouldn’t, go with her children—she was the healer and if blood was spilled, they’d need her.