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
Why do you try to hide from me? You know I'll always find you. I live inside your mind now.
- Handwritten note left in Ashaya's hospital locker, circa 2068
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."