Visions of Heat p-2

by Nalini Singh

  "Because you can't drag one of these bodies where it needs to go."

  She swallowed but didn't admit defeat. "And where would that be?"

  "Nikita Duncan has the bad luck to live closest to us."

  "I see." She looked at her feet and then back up at him. "You felt no guilt at killing those men."

  He waited, able to see her working something out in her head. Though he'd never admit it aloud, he was a little worried. She'd seen him at his most brutal. Now he waited for her reaction.

  "And yet, it was clean. You didn't taunt them and you didn't get pleasure from it."

  "I will when I take down animal prey." He wasn't going to lie.

  "I think I can deal with that because it's natural." Ignoring the blood, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingers delicate points of heat where they brushed his skin. "I won't say I wasn't shocked by the way you dispatched the assassins so quickly, but I wasn't repulsed or horrified. This is who you are. And I love you."

  The simple declaration brought him figuratively to his knees. Enclosing her in his arms, he let the tension seep out of him. This was who he was. And she loved him. It was all he'd ever wanted.

  Faith followed Dorian along the path back to the alpha pair's lair, glancing over her shoulder to try to catch a last glimpse of Vaughn. But he was already gone, a blur in the forest. Five leopards and one jaguar. So much power. So much fury. For her.

  "I could run with you," Dorian offered after ten minutes. "I'm latent, but I have the strength of a changeling."

  "I'm sorry." Faith made her tone very polite, conscious that Dorian didn't like her. "I don't know what latent means in your world."

  "I can't shift into leopard form." Said without any hint of self-pity.

  She looked at him. With his sky-blue eyes and blond hair, he looked more like a college student than the merciless predator he was. "Thank you, but no. I'm not comfortable being that close to anyone but Vaughn."

  He nodded and they kept going. She thought over his words, wondered if that was why he had such anger in his eyes. But that anger was directed at her and she'd had nothing to do with his latency. After almost half an hour of silence, she decided that the only way to know was to ask. He was family now.

  "Why don't you like me?"

  He didn't answer for several long minutes. "I don't know you, so I have no reason to dislike you as a person."

  It didn't take her long. "My ability. That's it, isn't it? You think I could've prevented something."

  "Not you. Foreseers as a whole."

  "You're right. Maybe we could have." That they hadn't, was a tragedy. "But I don't think foreseers ever saw everything. If they had, then nobody would've ever been murdered, no great disaster would've ever killed millions." It was something she'd been thinking over. "So maybe we could've prevented whatever it was that happened to you, but maybe we couldn't."

  "At least you could've tried if you'd been on the outside."

  "Yes." That was an irrefutable truth. "Yes."

  He didn't say another word for five more minutes. She spent the time thinking over her own statement. It was what she believed, but it was also a guess. She didn't know what past F-Psy had seen. Those records had been purged from the PsyNet, lost in the mysteries of time.

  The knowing, when it came, was quiet, silent, like the male beside her. Dorian. Broken, shattered Dorian would one day be whole. And in a way not even he could imagine. She saw him clearly in her mind's eye, a beautiful leopard with dark facial markings and, in this form, eyes more green than blue.

  The knowing drifted away and she wondered whether to share it with him. It hadn't been a true vision as such, had told her no specifics. But he'd been older. Not old, but at least two or three years older than he was now. What if she told him and then the future changed because of some act of his or another's? A false hope. She made the hard decision to keep the knowing to herself. Sometimes, Silence was the right choice. It was only when it wasn't a choice that it turned into a cage.

  "I heard you lost your sister."

  She'd gotten so used to his quietness that she was surprised into a soft gasp. "Marine. Her name was Marine."

  "My sister's name was Kylie."

  Their eyes met and she understood. He'd try to forgive her for being what she was, if she'd try to never let another sister die. "Yes."

  Vaughn returned to Faith about three hours before dawn. From the coffee on the table and the alert expressions on their faces, he could see that neither she nor Sascha had slept. When he appeared, Faith stood and came to him. Nobody said a word as he took her hand and they exited the lair for the second time that night, leaving Lucas with his mate.

  They covered the distance to the car in silence. It had been cleaned of explosives by Dorian, but Vaughn did another check before opening the passenger door for Faith. The cat continued to monitor the area for threats—he wouldn't breathe easy until they were back in his personal territory.

  The drive took almost another hour, but neither of them was in any mood for sleep at the end of it. Faith didn't ask any questions, didn't demand any answers, just watched as he showered, then stripped and joined him under the flow of water. He felt her worry.

  "It was done without any problems," he told her. "They never knew we were there."

  "Nikita Duncan's residence?"

  "And a few others connected to the Council at the highest levels." He'd had to fight the urge to go in and crush some more Psy skulls when he'd made his delivery.

  "I could feel that you weren't hurt or in danger."

  "Good." He wanted her to get used to the bond, had no problem with her utilizing it to see if he was okay. That's what mates did. He couldn't see the bond as she did, but he could feel it in a way that had no explanation—if she were ever hurt or in trouble, he'd know.

  She went quiet again. He walked them out of the shower and dried them both. When he carried her to the bed, she didn't protest. And when he claimed her in the most physical way, she gave him her surrender. Afterward, they lay intertwined, watching dawn infiltrate the room on slender beams of light.

  Faith moved to rest with her cheek against his chest, her hand over his heart. And then she cried. He stroked her hair and her back, not knowing how else to comfort her. But what he did know was that these hot, wet raindrops had nothing to do with him. He enclosed her in his arms and the jaguar spoke to her in rough, wordless murmurs.

  Several long minutes later, she took a shuddering breath. "They came after me as if I were an animal to be tracked down and bagged."

  He clenched his fist in her hair, but didn't interrupt.

  "I thought—perhaps my father—of course not, he's Psy. He wanted his investment back. It didn't matter to him to find out the choices I'd made, that killing you would kill me, too."

  "I'm not that easy to take out, Red."

  "It's stupid, but I feel betrayed by Father, though he was never truly a father to me. How could he have allowed them to come after me like that?"

  Vaughn had no answers to soothe that hurt. So he just held her, held her and told her that her worth to him was beyond any price. After a while, she slept. Secure in his home, a home no Psy could enter without setting off a hundred booby traps, he, too, went into the twilight.

  Faith woke at nine. Her body didn't want to sleep in, despite having been deprived of rest. Her cat, on the other hand, complained when she moved and told her to lie still. Able to smile this morning, though the smile was a little fragile, she settled back against him, listened to the sound of the waterfall, and took in the sunlight pouring in through the ingenuity of Vaughn's vent designs.

  The light swept through carefully placed pieces of colored glass to lay mosaic patterns on the carpets. Her Psy mind found them intricately beautiful. So organized but different with every minute, changing as the light changed. She was admiring them from the bed when the wall-mounted communication console chimed. Knowing there was no way Vaughn was going to budge, she wiggled out from under h
is arm and walked over to answer it. They really had to get something for the bedside, she thought, answering with audio only.

  The voice that returned her greeting was so unexpected, she didn't reply for ten complete seconds. In those ten seconds, Vaughn was fully awake and by her side. She let him make the rest of the decisions. Because for her, the person on the other side of the communications hookup was akin to a ghost.

  CHAPTER 26

  Less than four hours later, Faith walked into a meeting room at DarkRiver's business headquarters, Vaughn by her side. Located near the bustle of Chinatown, the building was both central and heavily protected, not only by changeling strength but also by the human ability to blend in—thus hearing things most Psy thought secret. In turn, the people of the area looked to DarkRiver for reciprocal protection against gangs.

  However, Faith's mind wasn't on security right then. She was, in fact, incapable of any rational thought. But she reacted almost automatically, years of training kicking in. "Hello, Father."

  Anthony NightStar rose to his feet, but didn't approach her. "Hello, Faith."

  Faith didn't know what to feel. She'd readied herself for being cut off from the Psy, contact with her forbidden under Council mandate.

  Anthony's eyes flicked to Vaughn's silent presence. "Privacy may be in order."

  She felt Vaughn bristle, but he let her answer for herself. "Vaughn is my mate. He's welcome to my secrets."

  Anthony didn't press the issue, which wasn't surprising. Her father was an eminently logical man and had quickly understood that this issue was nonnegotiable. "Then let's talk."

  She took a seat across the table from him and put a hand on Vaughn's arm in unspoken request. He acquiesced, sitting down to her right instead of standing like a jaguar just waiting for an excuse to pounce.

  "Your defection has affected every aspect of the PsyClan."

  "I know." Her choice had been the right one, but the far-reaching consequences continued to haunt her. "How much did the clan lose?" How many jobs had been affected? How many lives?

  "Not as much as we would have had we not taken preemptive action."

  She frowned and saw Anthony's eyes focus on the betraying gesture. "I thought Juniper wasn't yet forecasting with high accuracy."

  Anthony shook his head. "She isn't. She's eight years old and nowhere near as skilled as you were at the same age."

  Vaughn spoke for the first time. "She's a child. Let her be one."

  "Our worlds are different, Mr. D'Angelo," Anthony responded, though he hadn't been told Vaughn's last name. "To let Juniper be a child as you suggest would leave her abilities untrained and unshielded, open to exploitation." He raised a hand to forestall comment. "Yes, the PsyClan will use her talents as we used Faith's, but we'll also undertake to ensure her welfare. In the past, before the PsyClans came into being, some F-Psy were kept captive by others of all races for personal gain."

  "Father," Faith interrupted, "if not Juniper, then who?"

  "You."

  Vaughn's entire body went hunting-quiet beside her. She was glad. She knew the power of the PsyClan and exactly how far it would go to get its way.

  "She's no longer yours." A human voice but a jaguar's lethal challenge.

  "No. But her ability exists whether she's in the Net or not." Anthony didn't flinch. "She can be subcontracted to do the work for NightStar."

  Faith had to catch her mouth from falling open. "But the Council—surely they've prohibited contact with me?"

  "They tried." Anthony moved his attention from Vaughn to her. "However, NightStar is no Council puppet."

  Vaughn leaned forward. "You told them to stick their prohibition where the sun don't shine." A faint note of respect had entered his tone.

  "Crude, but correct. They are our Council, not our absolute rulers. And the pursuit of commerce is inviolate. Cutting off access to Faith would've affected thousands of businesses and none of those businesses was going to sit by and let that happen."

  Faith's mind was spinning. "You want me to provide forecasts for NightStar's clients, with you as the go-between?"

  "Yes. The PsyClan can afford to be seen working openly with you. The combined power of the businesses backing us, added to our strength as a family group, protects us from the Council."

  That made sense. NightStar's history of producing F-Psy had earned it many allies. It knew a lot of secrets. And it never told. No matter who asked.

  "The Council's already tried to kidnap me once." She would not ask the question that tormented her. Had her father known?

  "That's been taken care of. In more ways than one. I have my doubts about their operatives ever being able to reach you"—he glanced at Vaughn, then back at her—"but if they do and anything happens to you, every business with an unfulfilled forecast will stop its tax payments."

  "How many?" Vaughn asked, when she remained silent.

  "Faith's waiting list currently exceeds a thousand. The Council's reach is vast, but even it can't police that many renegades, especially when they include most of our major corporations. Like I said, business is inviolate."

  "How sure are you of that?" Vaughn pushed.

  "If the Council harms her—as she will inevitably be harmed in any attempt to capture her—it'll be seen as a violation of the basic law that rules our race: no interference with family groups or business. That will not be tolerated. All the Councilors have been informed of that by the corporations associated with their own family groups."

  "You won't stop the Council from 'rehabilitating' your own, but you'll draw the line at business interference?" Vaughn shook his head. "Hell of a list of priorities."

  "But good for Faith in this case."

  "I'm forecasting different things now," she said quietly.

  Anthony nodded. "Understood. We're asking you to provide regular business ones as well, unless you can't access those abilities any longer."

  "So the rich can prosper?" Vaughn asked, but she didn't hear any animosity It was almost as if he were trying to get a feel for her father as he would another animal.

  "You're a predator, Mr. D'Angelo, at the top of the food chain. In the business world, the same rules apply."

  "Survival of the fittest." Vaughn turned and ran his hand down her hair in a public caress that was as tender as it was possessive. "So, Red, what's the verdict?"

  "I can provide the forecasts without problem, but I need time to think," she said past the lump in her throat. How could he do this to her without even trying? "But one thing I do know is that if I do this, I expect far more by way of profits than I was previously getting." She was happy to be in a situation where she could strengthen the financial position of her new family. Money was power the Psy understood.

  But she also wanted the money for a far more subversive plan. Barely an inkling at present, it was an idea that could change the Psy from within. An idea that might save those like her cousin Sahara, people who'd disappeared into the mystery of the Net, but might still be alive. Caged. Brutalized for their abilities.

  "You are my daughter. I expected nothing less." If Anthony hadn't been Psy, she'd have said he was proud.

  "And if Faith accepts, she won't be going anywhere," Vaughn added. "All attempts at visions will be undertaken in DarkRiver territory."

  "No records, no monitors." She was through with being violated.

  "Your safety?"

  Vaughn leaned forward. "Leave that to me."

  Anthony took a moment to consider that before nodding. "Take care of her. She's invaluable."

  "Actually, to the PsyClan and to you, my worth is quantifiable." Faith smiled, but it was colored by sadness not joy. Then Vaughn's hand slipped under her hair to curve over her neck and the heavy warmth was a reassurance that to someone at least, she truly was invaluable.

  "Not as my daughter."

  She was disappointed. "Father, don't try such psychological tricks on me—they are beneath you. If you cared that much about your children, you would've hunted d
own Marine's killer and you would've learned the name of your Caribbean son."

  "I don't understand your reference to your sister's murder. She was an unfortunate victim of the human and changeling appetite for violence."

  Faith saw that he truly had no knowledge of the facts, but she couldn't speak of that pain. It was too raw, too fresh. Vaughn spoke for her. "It was one of the Psy. Probably one of your Council's pet killers. What we haven't been able to figure out is why she might've been targeted when she was in the inner circle."

  "I see." Anthony's voice remained toneless, but what he said next was nothing expected. "As for your other question— his name is Tanique Gray. He turns twenty-two in three months. Though not an F designation as his mother hoped for, he has a Gradient 9 ability in psychometrics, the first Ps-Psy born into our line in centuries.

  "I've seen him twice a year since his birth, per the clause I inserted into the reproduction contract. He has your bone structure, but of course, it is Marine whom he favors most."

  Faith wanted to believe it was nothing more than a clever ploy to win her heart and make her malleable to his requests, but somehow knew it wasn't. "Why?" Why go against Psy Protocol, against everything he'd ever taught her?

  "Loyalty is not guaranteed by birth. You were such a perfect Psy."

  And he'd believed she might see his choices as flaws.

  Without giving her a chance to answer, he stood. "Never forget that half your genetic material came from me. Perhaps even the part that gave you your conscience."

  Picking up the organizer on the table, he turned to business again. "I'll await your decision—try not to take too long. If you're not going to accept, the clan needs to take other measures to forestall further loss, and you need to find another way to keep yourself safe from the Council in the long term."

  Faith watched him walk to the door. "Wait!" Getting up, she made her way to him and then, for the first time in her adult life, she touched her father, hugging him quickly. He didn't return the gesture, but neither did he push her away. When she let him go, she searched his face and found the same blank slate she'd always seen. "Don't you want to break free?"