A raised eyebrow from the lethally beautiful male who sat in a chair in front of the unlit fireplace, playing a pocketknife over and through his fingers. “Are you sure?”

No, she wasn’t. Those eyes were piercing in their directness. She could well imagine his senses were acute enough to detect the spike in her heartbeat as she’d woken-a purely physiological reaction she couldn’t control. Now, she focused on bringing it back down to a resting rate. “My leg feels much better.” She tested it, stretching the muscle, but remaining on her stomach. “Mercy is a good medic.”

Dorian spun the knife on the tip of his finger, a feat of balance and skill that held her absolute attention. One slip and that blade would go through flesh and bone both.

“Speaking of Mercy,” she said, mesmerized by the incredible grace with which he handled the blade, “where is she?”

A hard glance out of those pure blue eyes. The knife disappeared so fast, she didn’t even catch a glimpse of where it went. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours. Mercy had things to do.”

“It’s”-she glanced at the clock on the wall by the fireplace-“one a.m.”

“That’s when Psy like to attack us.”

Muscles warming up, she turned to sit up. “I see.”

“Your eyes are the wrong color.”

“You saw me once in the dark.”

“I have the vision of a cat.”

Instead of responding, she swung her legs off the bed and, after resting a few seconds, tried to stand. Her muscles complained but held. Mercy was indeed good. She wouldn’t be running or winning any endurance contests, but she was no longer dependent on others. Especially not on a leopard who watched over her, but with an edge in his gaze that told her he was barely leashed. “My son,” she said, knowing she chanced giving herself away, but unable to stifle the need to know. “Is he truly alive?”

He threw her a small cell phone. “Click through to video.”

She did. And found herself watching a minute-long recording of Keenan curled up in sleep, his breathing steady, his hand pressed to the pillow by his cheek. Her baby boy was safe. A rock lifted off her chest. Still, it took considerable force of will to turn off the recording even after the third repetition, and throw the phone back to Dorian. “Thank you.”

He caught it with lightning-fast reflexes. “Do you want to see him?”

Ashaya felt a curious stillness in that newly awake section of her brain, the part where her bond with Keenan had lived in secret for so long. “No.”

Dorian’s lips thinned. “That’s what I thought.”

The door inside her mind, the one that had slammed open once and never quite closed again, pushed outward. It was only an inch, but it permitted something volatile to break free, something that ricocheted violently through her veins.

“He’s not safe with me,” she blurted out, knowing it for a mistake the instant the words were out. She could already feel Amara’s mind attempting to shove through what should’ve been the impenetrable ice of Silence, drawn by the pulse of her forbidden emotion for Keenan… drawn, too, by something new. Something dark and raw, and vicious-her reaction to Dorian.

CHAPTER 10

Ashaya used every tool she knew to calm herself before her agitation caused enough damage to allow Amara to get a lock on her. When she glanced up, it was to see Dorian watching her with disturbing intensity.

“You saying you care about your son’s safety?” A mocking question, but his eyes were those of a hunter. If she wasn’t careful, this highly intelligent predator would discover her most deadly secrets.

It was better not to engage with him. No matter the depth of her curiosity.

As she looked away from Dorian and the danger he represented, her eye fell on her pack. She walked carefully to where it stood leaning against the wall by the door. It was torn in a couple of places and dirty, but otherwise fine. “Thank you for retrieving this.”

“Don’t thank me-Vaughn got it. I stayed to make sure you didn’t pull any Psy tricks.”

She laid the pack on the floor and opened it up, not bothering with secrecy-Dorian had had plenty of time to go through it if he’d wanted. “Then please pass on my thanks to Vaughn.” She wondered if all male changelings were as hostile as Dorian, then squelched the thought when it threatened to feed her visceral awareness of him.

No sound of movement, but he was suddenly crouching beside her, close enough that the scent of him-wild, fresh, with bite-washed over her.

She immediately put more distance between them. “Why are you here?”

“You’re pretty skittish for a Psy,” was the cool response.

Deciding to ignore him-a difficult task-she began to go through the jumble he’d created while looking for the first aid kit. Her hand threatened to tremble as she touched the edge of a holoframe she’d asked Zie Zen to retrieve from its hiding place and keep safe for her. Dorian didn’t notice her betraying gesture, distracted by something else, something she’d expected to have to buy on the outside-whoever had packed this bag had clearly realized how integral record keeping was to her work.

“Top-of-the-line organizer.” Dorian picked up the device, currently encased in an air cushion. “Only available to CEOs of major Psy corporations.” Whistling through his teeth, he pricked the air bubble with his knife. “Nice.”

She resisted the urge to snatch back the object. Little breaks, little fractures. The door opened another inch. “Do you always touch others’ belongings?”

One corner of his lips curved upward and she realized Dorian was quite capable of charm. “Now you sound Psy. All pissy and icy.” Getting rid of the packaging, he turned on the organizer. “Password-protected.”

She leaned in and stared at the screen for several seconds. “Give it to me.”

He swiveled the device so it remained on the flat of his palm, but faced her. Too intrigued by the intellectual challenge, she didn’t argue his interpretation of her order. “I wasn’t given the code,” she murmured, “so it has to be logical, something I alone would know.”

“Keenan?” For once, he didn’t sound like he was baiting her. The cat apparently liked gadgets. It was an unexpected discovery.

“No.” She looked up, startled at his closeness. “That would be the first word Ming LeBon would use.”

Narrowing his eyes, Dorian pulled the organizer out of reach.

“Now that’s a question I want answered. Why exactly was the Council able to keep you leashed by holding Keenan?”

She could’ve lied, but the truth, she decided, would serve as well. It would reinforce his image of her as a cold monster without any maternal feelings. She needed him to continue to treat her with disgust-because even this tiny hint of a thaw in his attitude was threatening to erode the Silence that was her only protection against Amara. “I was already working for the Council in another capacity,” she began, “when the Councilors asked for my cooperation with Protocol I. Since I disagree with the aims of the protocol, I refused. Keenan was an infant at the time and living with me.”

The tiny hairs on the back of Dorian’s neck rose in warning. Whatever was coming was going to be bad, very bad.

“One night,” Ashaya continued tonelessly, “I went to sleep in my bed and woke up in a room at the Center. I was told that my fallopian tubes had been tied.” Her expression didn’t change but he saw her hands clench on the holoframe she’d been attempting to slide quietly out of sight before he’d put her on the spot.

The gesture set all his sense to humming. It was the first true indication she’d given that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the perfect Psy everyone believed her to be-Psy fully enmeshed in Silence never made any physical movements without purpose. Either it was an act to put him off guard, or M-Psy Ashaya Aleine had more secrets than anyone knew. There was nothing Dorian’s cat loved better than a mystery.