Slave to Sensation

A minute later, she emerged, a huge wildflower bouquet in her arms. “Special order for someone special.”

He’d never shared who the flowers were for, the wounds too deep to subject to casual scrutiny. “Thanks.”

“I charged it to your account.”

“See you next year.”

“Take care, Lucas.”

The second he got in his car he felt cold, chilled, alone. It was always this way on this one shadowed day, as if his childhood desolation resonated through time to torment him.

It took him over three hours to head out of the city and deep into the forests. Leaving the car on a hidden track, he traversed the remaining distance on foot. Nothing marked the spot where his mother and father had been buried, but he found their graves as if they’d been flashing welcoming beacons. He’d chosen a hidden grove surrounded by trees for their last resting place.

“Hey, Mom.” He laid the flowers on the thick grass. He never tidied here, never stopped the forest’s advance. His parents had both been leopards at home in the wild. “I bought you the flowers that always got Dad out of trouble.” In this place he was a child again, watching the two people who mattered more to him than any others, laugh and live. He should’ve never had to watch them die. A fist clenched around his heart as memories cascaded through his mind.

His mother’s scream.

His own helpless, tortured shouts.

His father’s cry of black despair as his mate’s life was stolen right in front of him.

Something in Carlo had broken at that instant, but he’d stubbornly held on to life until his son was safe. Only then had he taken the step that would reunite him with his slaughtered mate. A black panther like her son, Shayla had been the reason for Carlo’s heartbeat.

“I miss you, Dad.” He put his palm on the earth on the other side of the flowers. His mother had been found and buried first but when the time had come to bury Carlo, Lucas had insisted on a reburial. They’d been put to rest in each other’s arms. In his heart, he hoped that that meant they’d found each other again.

“I need you to guide me.” He should’ve never become alpha at barely twenty-three years of age but it had been inevitable. When the previous alpha, Lachlan, had died unexpectedly two years after stepping down, Lucas had lost even that source of support. “I need to know if what I’m doing is right. What if this leads to more death? The Psy aren’t going to stand back and let us tell the world they’ve been running interference for the worst kind of killer.”

The tree branches whispered in the wind as he spoke and he liked to think it a sign that his parents were listening. They were the only ones. None of his sentinels ever followed him here. No one asked him where he was going. No one asked him where he’d been.

He stayed for hours, speaking to two extraordinary people who’d been deprived of their love and their lives in the most brutal fashion but hadn’t broken. Carlo and Shayla had fought to the end like the courageous changelings they’d been. They’d fought not for themselves but for the life of their son. For him.

“I won’t let you down.” He wiped away tears that came from the heart of the boy who’d almost died with his parents. Only his hunger for vengeance had kept him going when no one thought he’d survive.

That bloody day and the ones that followed had shaped him, scarred him, and strengthened him. No one hurt the people Lucas cared about. No one took those who were his. He’d proven that he’d kill anybody who tried. Anybody.

Sascha had been feeling odd since the moment she’d woken. Worried that the changelings would pick up on the strange sadness weighing her down, she’d canceled her meetings with DarkRiver and occupied herself at Duncan headquarters, trying to keep under the radar so that Enrique wouldn’t track her down.

It was a relief to come home and shut out the probing eyes of the other Psy. The heavy darkness in her had increased through the day until it was a sharp pain in her heart. Not sure if it was an effect of her rapidly deteriorating mental state or something physical, she considered going to Medical.

A second later, she ruled that out. She didn’t know what the M-Psy saw when they looked inside a body. What if her mental patterns were so aberrant that they showed up and the medics demanded further tests? Sleep seemed the best option. If she wasn’t feeling better by tomorrow, she’d try to find some way of getting treatment without exposing herself to deep scans.

Another wave of thudding pain rocked through her body. She winced and rubbed her temples. Her eyes went to the communication panel. Maybe Lucas would know a medical person who would be discreet. Almost immediately, she shook her head. What was she thinking? Lucas clearly considered the Psy to be heartless automatons-why would he help her?

And why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?