by Nalini Singh
He hadn't been able to define the lingering miasma as either human, changeling, or Psy, but it had clung to Faith like a second skin, disappearing only in the light of the kitchen. It might be gone now, but Vaughn was far from convinced that he'd seen the last of it. Faith could very well be a psychic carrier of some kind, providing a conduit for the infiltration of DarkRiver.
However, his instincts said otherwise. There had been something malignant about that darkness, something violent and ugly. And while he wasn't sure about his redheaded Psy, his beast scented none of that ugliness in her. Faith smelled warm and female, tempting and inviting.
Whatever it was that was happening, he had the gut feeling that Faith herself was unaware of it. It was even possible that someone else was entering her consciousness through her connection to the hive mind of the PsyNet.
The shower shut off. That was when he realized he'd given Faith nothing with which to replace her sweat-soaked pajamas. He waited for her to figure out the same. She cracked open the door a minute later. "I need new clothing."
He turned and propped himself up with an arm against the wall. "I don't know. I think you'd look good without them."
Night-sky eyes stared at him without blinking. "You're not playing nice."
"You catch on quick, Red." From the gap in the door he could see her holding the towel closed over breasts that appeared surprisingly generous given her small frame. The beast prowled closer to the surface of his mind.
"My name is Faith."
"Hmm." He moved enough to slide a strand of wet silk through his fingers. Right now, her hair was a dark red that reminded him of heart's blood. "Do you have extra clothes in your bag?"
"A shirt and the pants I was wearing earlier." She didn't protest his touch and he wondered if she even realized how far she'd come in mere hours. Something in Faith craved sensation and it was driving her to buck her conditioning under Silence. He was pleased. And it was because he liked touching her. The cat saw no reason to lie about that.
"I'll get you a T-shirt—you can get into your day clothes later in case you decide to go back to sleep." There was spare women's clothing in the cupboards, but he wanted her covered in his scent. And he was animal enough not to care why he wanted that. He just did. "Wait here."
This time, she didn't ask him to stop, but he felt her eyes on him all the way down the hall. She hadn't moved so much as an inch by the time he came back. Whatever it was that she'd seen, it had spooked the hell out of her, spooked her enough to break down her normal shield of cool reserve.
"Here."
"Thank you." She closed the door, leaving him to imagine all sorts of things. He was getting to the part about replacing his T-shirt with him when she walked out.
"I left the towel on the drying rod." She tucked her hair behind her ears.
He saw that his old black T-shirt hit her a bare few inches above the knee, covering way more than he'd expected. "You're short."
"Did you only notice now?"
"What are you, five two?"
"One hundred and fifty-five centimeters to be exact."
That made her a lot shorter than him. Which would make things very interesting in bed. He pushed off the wall, not surprised at the direction of his thoughts, but disturbed by the strength of them. Cats liked sensuous play and Faith was a very enticing female, small but formed just right. And that skin—it made him want to lick her up.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Faith took a step back and tilted up her head.
No emotion in either her tone or her expression. No scent of desire. But the cat knew full well she found him intriguing.
"Yes, it'll make things very interesting." He could easily lift her up against a wall and pound into her. Hard. But maybe he'd save that for later—his Psy would probably appreciate a bit less enthusiasm the first few times.
"Vaughn, your eyes are going more jaguar than usual."
He shook his head in a sharp movement and strode down the hallway. "I think the coffee's ready." What the hell was this Psy doing to him? He was known in DarkRiver for being aloof to the point of icy remoteness. Most of the newly mature females gave him a wide berth while they flaunted themselves to every other male, because they knew he wasn't led by his balls. At least not until now.
Faith caught up to him. "Do you have any nutrition I could have?"
"Nutrition?" He scowled. "Do you mean food?"
"I have some nutrition bars in my bag if you don't."
"You're worse than Sascha was." He put his hand on her lower back and urged her toward the kitchen.
She jumped away like a scalded cat. "I told you not to touch me."
He growled very low in his throat. "Minutes ago you were begging me not to let go. Make up your mind, Red." He was aware his voice sounded a touch more jaguar than Faith could probably handle.
"I wasn't completely in control when I woke." She stared at him with wary caution but didn't back away. Then she surprised him even more and took a step closer. "And you know that."
The cat growled again, but it was pleased. This woman might look fragile but she had a spine of pure steel. "Are you sure I'm that logical?"
"No. But you're not an animal either."
He leaned in close until he had her boxed against the wall, his arms on either side of her body. One simple lift and he could have her at his sexual mercy. "That's where you're wrong, baby." He brushed his lips over her ear. "I'm as animal as they come." Before she could say anything, he pushed off and walked into the kitchen.
He heard the ragged gasp of her breath a few seconds later. "Are you really?"
He looked over his shoulder. "What do you think?"
CHAPTER 7
She walked closer. "Your eyes aren't quite ... human."
Most people never figured that out, believing they were simply an unusual color. "My beast is stronger than most." And had been ever since that week when he'd survived by turning jaguar and staying that way. Because even a baby jaguar had a better chance of survival in the forest than a ten-year-old human boy. But being in cat form for that length of time at such a young age had permanently changed him.
As if reassured by his calmer tone, she took another step forward. "What does that mean?"
He poured some coffee into a cup. "Milk? Sugar?"
"I don't know."
"Here, taste." Lifting the black coffee to her lips, he watched her take a sip.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent as she tasted. He'd never seen any woman do that with the intensity of Faith, never been so aware of the inherent sensuality in the act.
"Good?"
"Put sugar in it," she ordered, eyes remaining closed.
Vaughn didn't follow orders well, but this was different. This, to him, was a kind of play, though Faith probably didn't think of it that way. Too bad. She was playing with a very interested cat and when that cat got interested in things, it didn't like to be denied. "Here." He let her taste the sweetened coffee.
Once again, she breathed deep and savored the taste. "Milk."
"All ready."
A minute later, she opened her eyes. "The flavors are ... unusual." She seemed to be searching for words.
"Do you like it?"
"Like? Psy don't feel like or dislike." She shook her head. "But perhaps that's because I've never been given food of such different flavors that I have a basis for comparison. I. . . prefer the coffee with the sugar but not the milk."
He prepared it for her, amused at the way she tried to word things so as not to admit feeling anything even close to emotion. "Here." Leaving her to take a sip, he walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. "You're hungry and so am I. What do you say to bacon and eggs?" He started gathering the ingredients.
"Okay." She was standing right next to him.
Of course he'd heard her move, but he let her be. She was still scared and Vaughn could stroke rather than bite when he wanted to. He put the bread and other things on the counter and closed the f
ridge. "Come on, Red. Time for a cooking lesson."
She put her coffee cup beside his. "I'm ready."
He ran a knuckle down her cheek and when she jumped, he smiled. "Are you sure?" This close, he saw that while her skin was creamy, it wasn't the pale white of so many redheads, having a rich undertone of gold that only made it more tempting. "What's your history, Faith NightStar? Where do you get that red hair and this skin?"
"The NightStar PsyClan has many redheads—there is a genetic preponderancy of the trait. My skin is courtesy of a number of genes from both my mother and father." She reached for the eggs and held them up. "I'm in need of nutrition."
He showed her what to do with the first egg and then let her try. "So you're all-American?"
"No. My mother was born in the former state of Uzbekistan and moved to America as a child. It is my father who is a NightStar. He is primarily of Anglo-Italian heritage, though his great-grandfather was of Asiatic origin."
"You know the way you Psy mix it up—watch the heat, sugar." He pulled her hand away when it went too close to the heating unit.
She tugged it out of his grasp. "Thank you. I think the eggs are done."
"Uh-huh." He put them on a plate. "If you put the bacon in that container over there, it'll cook without splatter."
"Why do you know about cooking? In the books I read prior to approaching DarkRiver, predatory male changelings were always portrayed as being very dominant and unwilling to learn domestic tasks."
"I never said I liked cooking. But I can do it if the situation demands."
"What were you saying about the Psy?"
"That the way you mix it up would be more impressive if it was actually human-to-human contact. Instead, it's all done on a genetic level. Unless your parents fell wildly in lust and created you in pleasure?" He watched the concentration with which she did such a simple task as cooking and found it strangely arousing. He had the feeling Faith would do everything with that same level of concentration.
"You know Psy don't feel lust or pleasure." She pulled off the bacon and put it to the side.
He ran his finger down her cheek again. "If your body feels sensation, then lust is always a possibility."
Lucas watched Sascha pace around the bedroom and enjoyed the view. It wasn't bare skin but it was delectable nonetheless—his practical Psy had fallen madly in love with lacey feminine underthings in the months after dropping out of the Net.
"I can't believe you talked me into leaving Faith with Vaughn." She put her hands on hips barely covered by a pure white slip and glared. "He was behaving completely wild last night."
"We're all wild, Sascha darling." He wondered if she'd put her panties back on. "Come here."
"It's six a.m. We should be heading out to check if Vaughn managed to keep from driving her into complete insanity overnight."
"I thought you liked Vaughn."
"I do, but he's a little too much for Faith to handle—we might as well have left her with a rabid tiger."
"Vaughn would take exception to that." He liked fencing with his mate, enjoyed seeing fire in eyes that had once held only cold Psy focus.’
"I'm serious, Lucas." She finally crawled back onto the bed beside him. "I'm worried about Faith."
"Vaughn won't harm her."
"Not purposefully." She put a hand on his chest. "But he doesn't understand exactly what it is that he's dealing with. Changelings think touch is always good, but it isn't, not for someone like Faith. I've been thinking about it and I think she really could break under the strain."
He frowned. "She's that weak?"
"No." Sascha's hand pressed down as she rose to a kneeling position. "But she's lived her entire life in a vacuum. What do you think will happen if you suddenly expose her to the air?"
"Shit." Lucas sat up. "Let's go." He trusted Vaughn implicitly, but Sascha was right—the jaguar had been acting unusually aggressive ever since they'd found Faith. He might unknowingly thrust the redheaded Psy over the edge.
Faith sat in the bedroom dressed in her day clothes. Eating with Vaughn had been an adventure. He hadn't touched her again after she'd threatened to leave midway through the meal, but she knew the promise had ended the minute they'd finished breakfast. If she exited this room, he'd start pushing her again.
The odd thing was, she didn't want to remain in here until Sascha arrived. What Vaughn was doing threatened her sanity, but it also ... stimulated her. For the first time in her life, she felt alive in more than the mind alone. Her body had always seemed like something that wasn't quite hers, but now it was very definitely a part of her—Vaughn stretched every one of her senses to the extreme.
And he made the darkness go away.
Getting up, she rubbed her palms on her thighs. There was no logical reason to walk out that door, but Faith decided that today, logic wouldn't help her much. She was in changeling territory, predatory changeling territory. They lived by different rules.
He wasn't waiting for her in the hallway as she'd half expected. Neither was he in the living room. Thinking that he might have stepped out, she walked to the porch and sat down in a chair-swing she hadn't noticed the previous night. The motion of the swing was soothing, but the fact that she couldn't see Vaughn left her unable to fully relax.
The scrape of claws on wood.
She sat perfectly still as a large jaguar walked around the corner and prowled over. The eyes that watched her out of that savage, wild face were familiar, but no less dangerous. He walked past her, rubbing the side of his heavy, warm body against her legs.
The sensation was indescribable.
Her mind tumbled as it tried to process the new information. The slide of fur over clothing, the heavy nonhuman heat, the sheer beauty of the creature so close to her. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch, the part that had lived a life inside of walls so thick there had been no other living presence within touching distance. But another part of her wanted to run. Because this predator had very sharp teeth and he hadn't decided whether she was friend or foe.
He turned and rubbed across her legs once again. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart slamming hard against her ribs. And she knew she'd reached overload level. Her mind was about to go critical—the false sense of security that had allowed her to fence with him this morning was gone under the looming reality of a mental cascade. She pulled her feet up onto the swing and wrapped her arms around her knees. Desperately fighting the closing wings of darkness, she heard a low, throaty growl.
She refused to open her eyes, refused to allow any more sensation into her mind. She had to stop hearing, stop feeling, stop seeing. Maybe then she could control the nerves going haywire inside of her. That was when human male hands cupped her face and everything snapped.
Vaughn felt Faith go completely motionless under his touch. A split second later, her body spasmed with such violence that he knew she'd lost control of it. The second time, he barely caught her before she hit her head hard against the back of the swing, but she was already unconscious.
"No," he whispered, voice raw. He would not allow the Council to win and if he left Faith alone and untouched, they would. It had become imperative to him that this Psy became strong enough to make choices other than those mandated for her.
Deciding against taking her inside, he was about to stand when he heard the distant noise of an approaching car. Identifying it from the sound of the eco-engine, he used his considerable speed to go into the house and pull on some clothes. He was outside on the swing with Faith in his arms by the time Lucas and Sascha pulled up. Sascha almost leaped from the vehicle and ran up the steps.
"Oh, God, Vaughn!" Her rapidly darkening eyes moved over Faith's silent body. "How could—"
"I know what I'm doing." Sascha might be an E-Psy, but the jaguar wasn't budging on this one point. The cat knew something she didn't, knew it on the deepest, most primitive level. If anyone had asked Vaughn to explain, he wouldn't have been able to put his certainty into words, but t
hat made it no less strong.
"She's so deeply unconscious that I can't reach her and you think you know what you're doing?" Her words were bullet fast.
"Lucas," Vaughn said quietly.
The alpha's eyes met his. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Sascha turned furiously to her mate and when she didn't speak aloud, Vaughn knew she was yelling at Lucas mind-to-mind. Lucas couldn't broadcast speech, but the two had discovered that he could hear her perfectly fine. It made sense given that Lucas's great-great-grandmother had been Psy.
The alpha winced and caught Sascha around the waist to haul her up against his body. "He's a sentinel. He protects. Leave it be, darling."
"He might protect, but that protection doesn't stretch to Faith."
"It does now."
Everyone went silent. "Since when?" Lucas asked.
"Since I decided."
"Fine."
Sascha glanced from one male to the other then shook her head in obvious frustration. "Let me see if she's doing any better." Wiggling out of Lucas's grip, she came over. "She's like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon."
He understood, and because she was one of the few beings he respected, he said, "I won't bruise her wings, Sascha darling."
A smile flirted with her lips at the small tease. "What's gotten into you?"
He didn't reply as she put her hands over Faith's body and tried to read her emotional temperature. The truth was, he didn't know the answer. Not withstanding the promise he'd just made, he wasn't sure about Faith. Her story made sense, yet it could very well be a clever facade. The cat didn't think so, but despite its predatory nature, the cat was sometimes innocent in a way the human male could never be.
"She's shut down to a point where I'd compare it to a coma—I don't know when she'll come out of it."