Read Psy & Changelings 05 - Hostage to Pleasure for Free Online

her?
    She turned, hoping to see some indication of her location. But there were no roads. No buildings. No lights. Just trees, what seemed like thousands of them in every direction. A solid wall of green. Realization dawned—Vasic had clearly had to cut her teleport short in order to get back in time to rescue the other woman. As a result, she was alone in the wilderness, when she’d spent most of her life behind lab walls.
    Then something growled, the sound so lethal, the hairs on the back of her neck rose in primordial warning. Those reactions, even the Psy hadn’t been able to train out of themselves. Another growl, followed by a hissing sound that froze her to the spot.
     
Dorian was heading back to Tammy’s after his run when the call came through. “Yeah?”
    “How close are you to the Grove?” Vaughn’s voice.
    “Maybe an hour at a hard run. Why?”
    “Shit.” Vaughn muttered something to a third person, then came back on the line. “You’re the closest. Pickup ASAP.”
    Who or what the hell was out there? The Grove was a large tract of land deep in their territory, home to feral creatures with a hunger for blood and tearing flesh. “I’m on my way.” He was already changing direction.
    “You have a gun?”
    “Stupid question.” He was always armed, an automatic compensation for his lack of ability to go cat.
    “Hope you don’t need to use it. Run fast.” Vaughn hung up.
    Dorian shoved the phone into his pocket and set a brutal pace. Since Vaughn had given him no specifics about the pickup, the target had to be obvious—either highly visible, noisy, or with a distinctive scent. He hoped to hell it was one of the latter two. Darkness had fallen over an hour ago, and, with the moon clouded over, visibility was low. His eyes were cat-sharp, but even a leopard changeling couldn’t magically find a needle in a very big haystack. A scent trail would speed things up.
    Of course, that might be a moot point.
    Because if it was a person out there, then he or she was in seriously deep shit. That area was home to a population of aggressive lynx. Real lynx, not changelings. They could be vicious little buggers when provoked. If the subject made that mistake, the only thing Dorian would find was a pile of bones, the flesh stripped off with bloody efficiency.
     
There were eyes all around her, glowing, stalking. Ashaya stood in place, going over her options for the hundredth time and coming up with the same answer—she had none. She was a Gradient 9.9 Psy, but her power was medical. She had no combat-capable abilities, not even a hint of telekinesis or paralyzing telepathy. Her Tp status was barely 1.1, just enough to maintain her link to the PsyNet.
    She could attempt to attack using that paltry bit of telepathy, but even if she gained a few seconds, what could she do? She considered trying to get to the stunner in her pack. But the instant her hand moved, teeth snapped in warning. It made her wonder why they hadn’t already attacked.
    She found the answer in her next scan of the area—several of the large tree trunks bore fresh claw marks. Something big had passed through here recently, leaving behind enough of a lingering presence that these small predators—judging from the height of their eyes—were hesitating. But that wouldn’t last. She was warm, living prey. They wanted her.
    Think, Ashaya, she told herself, using the calm fostered by Silence. What would Amara do? The question was a stupid one, something she disregarded in the next instant. Amara had a different skill set, a different way of thinking. What did she have?
    Medical. Basic telepathy. Basic psychometry. Some other passive Psy abilities. None of them useful in this situation.
    The animals—cats?—were creeping closer in a stealthy whisper of claws against the dry vegetation that carpeted the forest floor.
    Eliminate the psychic abilities and what did she have?
    A quick mind, a body in good condition . . . and the genetic gift of