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 he 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.
