condition she’d been in after trying to save his father’s life. She’d almost killed herself, given everything she’d had in that slender seventeen-year-old body. And when they’d found him, Lucas, she’d tried desperately to squeeze impossibly more from her worn—out soul.
However, right now, he couldn’t afford to have her fight against him, couldn’t afford to show any weakness. If she spoke up, he’d have to get very harsh and he didn’t want to do that to Tammy. To his shock, Sascha was the one who spoke. “She needs to be here.”
The SnowDancers raised their brows, but there was a kind of shadowed respect in their eyes. The rules were different for the mates of Pack alphas. No one wanted their alpha mated to a weak female.
“Why would that be?” Hawke turned to face them, his back to the mantel.
Lucas moved until Sascha and Tamsyn were both half-hidden by his body. “None of your business, wolf. You came to see Sascha. Here she is.”
Sascha pushed at his back until he shifted enough that she could meet the wolf’s gaze. It was as far as he was going to go.
“I know you don’t trust me,” she said. “I even know that you hate the Psy on a level that’s so deep, it has no end.”
Hawke’s mouth tightened, his eyes going glacial.
“But you don’t have to trust me in this—you have to trust Lucas.”
Hawke snorted. “He’s your mate. He’s hardly likely to be unbiased.”
Lucas waited for Sascha to dispute their mating, unable to do anything to warn her.
Her hand slipped around to lie against his stomach. The panther wanted to purr. “Do you really think he’d mate to someone who’d endanger his pack?”
“Yeah, wolf.” Relief at her acceptance ran through Lucas like fire. “Just how much do you trust me?”
“How do you know she hasn’t fucked with your mind?” It was a harsh question.
“Because you know as well as I do that the Psy can’t hold on to our minds for longer than a few minutes.” Lucas tracked Hawke’s every movement, leaving Indigo and Riley to the sentinels. He had a feeling Riley was the more dangerous of the pair—like Dorian, he’d lost a sister to this killer. “She would’ve had to manipulate not only my mind but those of the sentinels as well.”
“Psy never work alone.” Hawke watched them both without blinking.
Sascha’s hand clenched on Lucas’s abdomen. “Psy also don’t feel emotion.” Stretching, she kissed the hard angle of Lucas’s jaw from behind his shoulder. “Yet I feel so much, it’s threatening to destroy me.”
There was no arguing with her statement. She was sensually, beautifully female, her body’s hunger for Lucas a siren song. The unmated males could no more ignore that than they could stop breathing.
Every instinct in him quivered, wanting to take her, right here, right now, and show everyone that she belonged to him. Fighting the animalistic urge merely served to heighten the craving, until the panther’s fur rasped along the inside of his skin.
“Then those eyes of yours mean nothing.” Hawke crossed his arms across his chest. “You’re weaker than the ones we’re fighting.”
“You’re calling emotion a weakness?” Tamsyn was trying to get past Dorian without success. Nate stared at her from across the room, obviously willing her to be silent, but the healer had never been good at following orders. “Emotion is what makes us strong!”
“She’s not one of us,” Hawke said. “Her strength comes from feeling nothing. If she feels, it means she’s damaged goods. We can’t trust Brenna’s life to a defective Psy who could crumble at any minute.”
Lucas felt the panther’s claws cut through his skin. “Be very careful what you say about my mate, Hawke. I’d hate to have to kill you.” The warning lingered on the air.
Both of Sascha’s arms wrapped around his middle. “Lucas, he’s right. If I were weak, I’d be of no use.”
“You’re not weak.” He held her hands flat against him, luxuriating in the public gesture of belonging. This Psy was his and he wasn’t going to let her escape. Ever.
“No,” she said, “I’m not. I’m a cardinal E-Psy.”
Hawke’s gaze reflected a bright flash of shock so deep, it couldn’t be hidden.
“What do you know, wolf?” Lucas wondered what Sascha had learned that had enabled her to make that statement so confidently, but he wasn’t going to ask her to explain in front of the SnowDancers.
“I want to see her face,” the wolf demanded.
Lucas felt his muscles lock. Sascha’s hand smoothed over his body as she drew back. “Let me, Lucas. This is my time to fight.”
The anguish in her tone got through to him, cutting past the possessive beast to the man within. He let her move until she stood slightly in front of him, where he could quickly haul her behind his body. “You or your lieutenants even blink wrong and I’ll slash you wide open.” It wasn’t a threat, just simple fact.
Hawke nodded. “Fair enough.” Nobody played games with mates.
“What do you want to see?” Sascha tipped her head slightly to the side, her eyes on the wolf. He was feral in a way that even Dorian wasn’t, his beast separated from his humanity by the thinnest of layers.
“I want you to prove you are what you say you are.”
“Are you sure?” she asked softly.
Hawke’s jaw could’ve been carved from stone. “Yes.”
She took a breath and let her eyes flutter shut. As her senses expanded, she felt the full brunt of Lucas’s possessive, dominant personality. He was pure strength, pure heart. But buried deep was an echo of the staggering pain suffered by the young boy he’d once been, an echo that now beat with a fierce need to protect. She felt his determination to keep her, too, but that was the one thing she could never allow. He’d already spent a childhood without parents—she would not condemn him to a lifetime without a mate.
Behind her panther, she could feel the dull anger that was Dorian, so wounded that she’d have to spend years to lighten his anguish. Except she didn’t have years. Tamsyn was gentleness and joy, power and care. The soldiers of both groups gave off their own distinctive emotional scents. But it was Hawke that she was searching for and Hawke that she found.
The wolf’s emotions struck cold terror into her heart. She’d never felt such pure, unadulterated rage. Dark and violent, it was a scar across his soul. Hawke could function, could rule, but this man would never love, not so long as he was blinded by the red veil of blood and death.
Sascha didn’t know if he’d feel what she was doing, didn’t know if he’d find his proof. What she did know was that she couldn’t let him walk away without trying to heal the festering wounds in his soul. Like Dorian, he couldn’t be healed overnight, but perhaps she could give him a moment’s surcease.
She wrapped mental arms around him and drew away the anger, the violence. And gave back joy, laughter, pleasure. To her surprise, she felt him react to her like Lucas did. He jerked in shock and then started trying to push her out. He was no Psy but he was definitely saying
She withdrew at once.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find him staring at her as if she were a ghost. “I didn’t think the empaths existed anymore.” His voice was half wolf.
It was the right word, the word that had been systematically destroyed from the Psy lexicon. “Neither did I,” she whispered, letting her back rest against Lucas’s front. His arms came around her and she swore she felt the ruffle of fur against the skin.
“Do you know how to attack using your powers?” Hawke’s eyes lingered on her and Lucas’s skin-to-skin contact.
“Nothing smooth,” she told him, having thought about this upstairs. “But it’ll keep me alive long enough to give you what you need to find Brenna.”
Lucas’s arms tightened across her shoulders. “I won’t let her set the plan in motion unless we can pull her out of the Net safely.”
Hawke shifted position. Sascha’s eyes met his and her soul froze. He
And she needed to go, needed to wipe out a lifetime of failure by saving this one vibrant light before her own
