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The hunt had begun. And Sascha Duncan was the prey.
Sascha was having trouble meeting Lucas’s gaze, scared he’d be able to see the erotic images flashing through her mind like a full-motion picture.
by programming her brain to dream about him.
Her eyes were no longer night-sky. Sparks of color fountained where the white stars usually resided, spectacular fireworks on the most miniature of scales. Neither man nor panther had ever seen anything more beautiful.
cuddled closer and he wrapped his arms tight. “Because I’m broken.” Her hand kept smoothing over his heart and he could feel a melting warmth invade his body. “And the Psy don’t allow broken creatures to live.”
“You feel perfect to me.”
Because I’m broken. And the Psy don’t allow broken creatures to live.
She was Psy and he’d been dreaming some pretty odd dreams. He could do the math.
“Mated to a Psy, panther?”
His loyalty had always been to Pack. Only ever to Pack. Until now.
He was furious at fate for giving him a mate he couldn’t keep safe.
“I wish I’d been born in another time, another place. Then maybe I could’ve escaped fate . . . maybe I could’ve been your darling.”
He smiled. Sascha Duncan was no longer Psy, even if she refused to see that. Poor baby. He was going to enjoy educating her about living life as his mate.
“Stop this before it’s too late.” “No one can stop it. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”
“They healed souls,”
“I think that’s what you are, Sascha. A healer of souls.”
“I didn’t think the empaths existed anymore.” His voice was half wolf. Empath.
