Lucas.
Her breath came out in a gasp as she allowed her mind to cascade with all the emotions she’d had to bury during the meeting.
Fear.
Amusement.
Hunger.
Lust.
Desire.
Need.
Unclipping the barrette at the end of her plait, she shoved her hands into the unfurling curls before tugging off her jacket and throwing it aside. Her breasts ached, straining against the cups of her bra. She wanted nothing more than to strip herself naked and rub up against something hot, hard, and male.
A whimper escaped her throat as she closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, trying to control the images pounding at her. This shouldn’t be happening. No matter how far out of control she’d gone before, it had never been this bad, this sexual. The second she admitted it, the avalanche seemed to slow and she found enough strength to push her way out of the clawing grip of hunger.
Getting up off the floor, she walked to the kitchenette and poured herself a glass of water. As she swallowed, she caught her reflection in the ornamental mirror that hung beside her built-in cooler. It had been a gift from a changeling advisor on another project and she’d kept it despite her mother’s raised brow. Her excuse had been that she was trying to understand the other race. In truth, she’d just liked the wildly colorful frame.
However, right now she wished she hadn’t held on to it. It showed too clearly what she didn’t want to see. The tangle of darkness that was her hair spoke of animal passion and desire, things no Psy should know about. Her face was flushed as if with fever, her cheeks streaked red, and her eyes . . . Lord have mercy, her eyes were pure midnight.
She put down the glass and pushed back her hair, searching. But she hadn’t made a mistake. There was no light in the darkness of her pupils. This was only supposed to happen when a Psy was expending a large amount of psychic power.
It had never happened to her.
Her eyes might’ve marked her as a cardinal but her accessible powers were humiliatingly weak. So weak that she still hadn’t been co-opted into the ranks of those who worked directly for the Council.
Her lack of any real psychic power had mystified the instructors who’d trained her. Everyone had always said that there was incredible raw potential inside her mind—more than enough for a cardinal—but that it had never manifested.
Until now.
She shook her head. No. She hadn’t expended any psychic energy so it had to be something else that had caused the darkness, something other Psy didn’t know about because they didn’t feel. Her eyes drifted to the communication console set into the wall beside the kitchenette. One thing was clear—she couldn’t go out looking like this. Anyone who saw her would have her sent in for rehabilitation in a heartbeat.
Fear gripped her tight.
As long as she was on the outside, she might one day figure out a way to escape, a way to cut her link to the PsyNet without throwing her body into paralysis and death. Or she might even discover a way to fix the flaw that marked her. But the second she was admitted into the Center, her world would become darkness. Endless, silent darkness.
With careful hands, she pulled off the cover of the communication console and fiddled with the circuits. Only after she’d replaced the cover did she press in Nikita’s code. Her mother lived in the penthouse several floors above.
The answer came seconds later. “Sascha, your screen is turned off.”
“I didn’t realize,” Sascha lied. “Hold on.” Pausing for effect, she took a careful breath. “I think it’s a malfunction. I’ll have a technician check it out.”
“Why did you call?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel our dinner. I’ve received some documents from Lucas Hunter that I’d like to start going through before I meet with him again.”