Suddenly aware of Lucas sending her a questioning glance, she realized she’d been silent for over forty minutes. Luckily for her, lack of small talk was a Psy trait. “If we agree to buy the site you’ve chosen, how long will it take to close the deal?”

He looked back at the road. “A day. The land is in DarkRiver territory but owned by the SnowDancers through an accident of history. They’re happy to sell for the right price.”

“Are you an impartial party?” She took the chance afforded by his concentration on driving to look her fill of the markings on his face. Savage and primitive, they tugged at something hidden inside of her. She couldn’t help thinking that they likely told the true story of his nature, the smooth business persona merely a mask.

“No. But they’re not going to deal with anyone else so you’ll just have to hope I don’t screw you over.”

She wasn’t sure whether to take him seriously. “We’re well aware of property values. No one has yet managed to ‘screw’ us.”

His lips curved. “It’s the best location for what you want. The thought of living in that area gives most changelings wet dreams.”

Sascha wondered if he was being crude in an effort to rattle her. Had this far too intelligent leopard figured out that she was flawed in the most basic way? Hoping to throw him off the scent, she made her next words completely toneless. “Very colorful, but I don’t care about their dreams. I simply want them to buy the properties.”

“They will.” Of that Lucas had no doubt. “We’re almost there.” He pulled off the side road they were on and headed down another before parking the car beside a huge open space dotted with trees. Situated near Manteca, the area wasn’t heavily forested but it was definitely wooded.

He slid open his door and stepped out, frustrated by his inability to penetrate the layer of ice Sascha had wrapped around herself like steel. He’d engineered this drive and site visit in order to start probing her for information. But getting a Psy to open up was like trying to get a SnowDancer to turn into a leopard.

The worst part was, he found himself fascinated by everything about his quarry. Like how the rich silk of her hair turned impossibly darker in the sun as she moved to stretch out her legs. Or how her skin gleamed a dark honey. “May I ask you a question?” The hunger came from the panther inside but the man saw the possibilities in this line of questioning.

Sascha glanced up. “By all means.”

“Your mother’s ancestry is clearly Asiatic but your first names are Slavic and your last, Scottish. I’m curious.” He walked beside her as she started to explore the site.

“That’s not a question.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. He had the feeling she was teasing him but of course the Psy never teased. “How did you end up with such an interesting mixture?” he asked, far from convinced about this Psy.

To his surprise, she answered without hesitation. “Depending on the family structure, we take the names of either our maternal or paternal line. In our family, the last name has been maternal for the last three generations. However, my great-grandmother, Ai Kumamoto, took her husband’s name. He was Andrew Duncan.”

“She was Japanese?”

She nodded. “Their daughter was Reina Duncan, my grandmother. Reina had a child with Dmitri Kukovich and he chose the first name of their child-Nikita. My mother continued that naming tradition, as our psychologists believe a sense of history better enables a child to adapt to society.”

“Your mother looks very Japanese, while you don’t.” Her features were so unique that they defied definition. Nothing about her said she’d been manufactured in the same machine as the rest of the bloodless, robotic Psy.

“The paternal genes appear to have held sway in my case, while in hers, the maternal ones prevailed.”

He couldn’t imagine ever speaking of his parents in such a cool fashion. They’d loved him, raised him, and died for him. Their memory deserved to be honored with the most powerful depths of emotion. “And your father? What did he add into the exotic mix?”

“He was of Anglo-Indian descent.”

Something in her voice set off the protective instincts of his beast. “He’s not in your life any longer?”

“He never was.” Sascha continued walking along the pathway, trying not to feel the pain of this oldest of wounds. It was nothing that would ever change. Her father was as Psy as her mother.

“I don’t understand.”

This time she didn’t tease him about it not being a question. “My mother chose a scientific method of conception.”

Lucas stopped so suddenly, she almost betrayed surprise. “What? She went to a sperm bank and picked out a donor with good genes?” He appeared astounded.

“Very crudely put, but yes. It’s now the most widely used form of conception among the Psy.” Sascha knew Nikita expected her to follow the same path. Not many of their race chose the old-fashioned method any longer. It was apparently messy, wasted time that could be put to more cost-effective use, and had no advantages over medico-psychic selection.

“The process is both safe and practical.” But she was never going to undergo it. There was no way she’d ever chance condemning a child to the flaw already pushing her to the brink of insanity. “We can weed out sperm and eggs that are damaged in any way. It’s why the Psy have a negligible rate of childhood diseases.” Yet mistakes were made-she was living proof.

Lucas shook his head and it was such a feline movement, her heart jumped. Sometimes he was so smooth, so charming, she forgot his animal nature. And then he looked at her with that naked heat in his eyes and she knew that what prowled behind the civilized facade was nothing tame.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he said, standing just a little too close.

She didn’t move. He might be an alpha used to obedience but she wasn’t one of his pack. “On the contrary. I was taught animal reproduction at an early age.”

He chuckled and she felt the stroke of his laughter deep inside where no one should’ve been able to reach. “Animal reproduction? That’s one way to put it. Have you ever tried it?”

She was having trouble concentrating on his words with him so near… so touchable. He smelled of danger and wildness and passion, all the things she could never allow herself to feel. It was the ultimate temptation. “No. Why would I?”

He leaned infinitesimally closer. “Because, darling, you might find that the animal in you likes it.”

“I’m not your darling.” As soon as the words were out, her soul froze. No Psy would’ve ever risen to the bait.

Lucas’s eyes blazed with challenge. “Maybe I can change your mind.”

Despite the teasing words, she knew he’d picked up her lapse and was even now considering what it meant. There was nothing she could do to retract the slip but she could bring the conversation back to purely business. “What did you want to show me?”

His wicked smile shot to pieces her hopes of getting this meeting under control. “Lots of things, darling. Lots of things.”

Lucas watched Sascha move around the lot and savored the lingering taste of her, as warm and exotic as her history.

The panther prowling the cage of his mind was intrigued by her, intent on licking at her to see if she tasted as good as he imagined. Her golden skin enticed the tactile nature of his changeling soul, while the lushness of her lips made him want to bite… in the most erotic way. Everything about her invited the senses.

What had him fighting the urge was the knowledge that it had to be some kind of Psy trick. Had they finally figured out a way to exert psychic control over changelings? His people had always been safe because the Psy were too cold to figure out what made them tick. Life, hunger, sensation, touch, sex. Not cold, ascetic sex like Dorian had described, but passionate, sweaty, low-down and dirty sex.