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characterized by anger and possessiveness and made people extremely vulnerable. The aim of the training had been to teach her how to exploit changeling and human weaknesses, but she’d used the information to mask her own flaw.
    “Who have you brought to visit?” The brunette walked over. “Hello. I’m Tamsyn.” She went to stretch out a hand and then dropped it as if remembering the Psy aversion to touch.
    “I’m Sascha Duncan.” Glancing over Tamsyn’s shoulder, she met Lucas’s gaze. He was looking at her in a way that unsettled her with its directness. She had to force her attention back to Tamsyn.
    “Come on,” the woman said. “I’ve just made the most divine chocolate chip cookies. You two can have first pick before the rest of the pack sniffs them out. I swear Kit and the juveniles always know when I’m baking cookies.” She headed back to the other side of the counter. As she passed Lucas, he ran the knuckles of one hand down her cheek and she rubbed back gently against him.
    Skin privileges.
    Mates, lovers, and Pack.
    “Is she your mate?” Sascha walked to stand beside Lucas, trying not to grit her teeth against the jealousy churning in her gut.
    Tamsyn laughed, startling Sascha. She’d forgotten that changelings had far better hearing than the Psy. “Good Lord, no. Don’t say that around Nate—he might decide to challenge Lucas to a duel or something else equally archaic and testosterone driven.”
    “I apologize,” she said to Tamsyn, far too aware of the acute interest in Lucas’s eyes. “I misunderstood.”
    The other woman frowned. “What?”
    It was Lucas who answered. “We kissed. We touched.”
    “Oh that!” Tamsyn lifted up a plate from behind the counter and put it on the top. “That was just saying hello to a packmate.”
    Sascha wondered if they knew how lucky they were. They could show such extreme emotion without fear that they’d be locked away and rehabilitated. Part of her wanted to tell them that she, too, hungered for touch, that her hunger was so great she was starving. But she knew that was the madness talking. Changelings despised the Psy. Even if they somehow sympathized, what could they do? Nothing. No one had ever withstood the might of the PsyNet—the only way to leave it was death.
    “Come on.” Tamsyn beckoned her over. “These are decadent.”
    Sascha had never thought of food as decadent. Curious, she walked over to pick up a warm cookie. Chocolate. It was a sweet substance coveted by humans and changelings. The Psy meal plan didn’t include it as it had no nutritional value that couldn’t be provided by other, more efficient means.
    “You’re looking at it as if you’ve never tasted chocolate before.” Lucas leaned on the counter beside her. There was no mistaking the amusement on his face.
    Her hands itched to trace his markings, to find out if they were soft or hard, sensitive or not. “I haven’t.” She concentrated on the cookie instead of the heat coming off Lucas’s skin. Now that he’d taken off his jacket, she could see far too much sun-golden male flesh.
    Tamsyn’s eyes went wide. “You poor thing. You’ve been deprived.”
    “I’ve been given balanced nutrition every day of my life.” She felt compelled to defend her people, though she knew they’d discard her without a thought the second they discovered her defect.
    “Nutrition?” Lucas shook his head, sending dark hair sliding across muscular shoulders. “You eat so you’ll function?” He disposed of a cookie in two bites. “Darling, that’s no way to live.” Laughter flickered in his eyes but there was also something hotter, something that whispered that he could show her how to really live.
    She swallowed the flare of desire threatening to shatter her control. Lucas Hunter was potent. And a crazy part of her wanted to take a sip of him to see if he tasted as good as he sounded.
    “Go on,” Tamsyn said, snapping her back to reality none too soon. “Try one