Slave to Sensation

Sascha laughed and both men turned to look at her, their beasts fascinated by the purity of the sound. It was, Lucas realized, the first time he’d ever heard her laugh. The possessive need in him tightened to the most aching kind of tenderness. She meant more to him than she’d ever know. If she died, so would his heart.

“You’re like two wild animals who aren’t quite sure you believe the other’s offer of peace. I wonder how long you’ll circle around each other before you decide.” She shook her head, those eerie eyes sparkling with feminine amusement. At that moment she was everything the beast in him craved, woman and passion, laughter and play, sensuality and hunger.

Lucas felt Hawke take a deep breath. When he looked back at the wolf, he read a simple message on his face: If she weren’t yours…

“But she is,” Lucas said, one predator to another, one alpha to another.

Sascha, who was staring at one of the paintings, didn’t hear. “These are lovely, Hawke.” She turned to him. “Is the artist one of your pack?”

Hawke’s face seemed to harden till it was as unfeeling as the rock upon which the paint had been laid. “She was.” He jerked his head behind him. “Let’s go.”

Troubled eyes met Lucas’s when he went to take Sascha’s hand. He shook his head-he knew nothing of the artist.

“They live underground?” Sascha asked after they’d been walking for five minutes, going steadily deeper.

“Some of them. This functions as their Pack headquarters.” Before the SnowDancers had become as feared as they now were, group after group had tried to find the hideout in order to take them down. They’d all failed. Until DarkRiver. Lucas and his sentinels had not only found the den, they’d infiltrated it. Their sole purpose had been to leave behind a simple message.

Don ’t hurt us and we won ’t hurt you. DR .

A day later, a response had been found in Lucas’s lair.

Agreed. SD.

Sometimes it was good being an animal. In the world of the Psy and even in the human world, such negotiations could’ve taken months. In the years following that initial contact, they’d started to edge warily toward a more workable relationship. But that simple rule remained-don’t hurt us and we won’t hurt you.

Hawke turned right ahead of them.

“What’s on the left?” Sascha asked, looking down that corridor.

“Homes.” When they’d first breached the tunnels, DarkRiver had ensured the SnowDancers knew that they’d been near the homes of their pups and had left without doing harm. There was no clearer indication of friendship.

A few minutes later, they came to another fork. The corridors went off in several different directions. Ahead, they could see rooms opening up and people walking about. Hawke took them through the rightmost corridor and stopped in front of a closed door.

Beside him, Lucas felt Sascha’s whole body go quiet. “Hawke,” she said, an odd note in her voice. “What can I feel behind that door?”

Those icy eyes met theirs. “You’ll see.” Pushing open the door, he walked in.

Lucas went in ahead of Sascha, every one of his senses primed for trouble. Vaughn and Clay were already nearby, having taken human form and put on stolen clothing to throw the wolves off their scent. It would be hard getting out if something happened. Hard, but not impossible. Otherwise Lucas would’ve never brought his mate here.

However, what awaited them in the room wasn’t anything he could’ve prepared for. Five people of varying ages sat around a large circular table. They didn’t smell like wolf. Then one of them raised her head and night-sky eyes met his. “Christ!” He let Sascha enter but left the door open.

Sascha knew who the five people were the instant she saw them-Nikita had told her the details of the case. “The Lauren family,” she whispered. She’d never known the ages of the five Psy who’d disappeared into SnowDancer territory, had never expected any of them to be children, because even after everything she’d learned, she hadn’t been ready to admit that her own people would so callously turn their backs on the most innocent of the innocent.

The oldest two were males, one dark blond, the other with hair the color of rich chocolate. Both had human eyes. The fair-haired male looked to be around forty, but the other was nearer Sascha’s age. Then there was a teenage girl with deep red hair and the eyes of a cardinal Psy. She sat protectively next to a young boy who had the same hair and the same eyes. Last, a girl of about ten sat between the two older males. She had strawberry blonde hair and the feel of a powerful Psy. Her eyes were a pale green.

“How?” How had they survived being cut off from the Net? How had they survived at all?

“We’re not cold-blooded murderers, Sascha.” Hawke’s voice was ice. “Not like the Psy.” He sat down and Sascha let Lucas nudge her into a seat, too.

The teenager’s head shot up and Sascha swore she felt a spike of temper. “You’re making generalizations again. That’s the same as saying all wolves are vicious.”