"They've never caught us yet." Lucas looked pleased as only a cat could. "Dorian's very good, but we need more hackers of his caliber if we're going to coordinate a big strike."
Hawke folded his arms. "We've got three who can stay under the radar and one who can do even better."
Beside him Brenna's body grew tense, muscles locking into place. Following her gaze, he saw it clash with Riley's. Her brother seemed to struggle with something for several seconds before giving a curt nod. "Bren's the best there is."
"I thought your degree was in computronics." It didn't please Judd that there was something he hadn't known about her. An emotional reaction. The sweat rolling down his spine felt like ice this time.
"My official degree." The mischief in her eyes was new. "Hawke says I have an unofficial one in creative systems programming." She laughed.
The sound, the intensity of her happiness, caused another mental chain to snap. The ends of his nerves seemed to burn, his spinal cord turning into a column of excruciating liquid fire - he was perilously close to a meltdown.
Acting before it was too late, he withdrew his hand from Brenna's...but didn't push away her body. "I'll run security on the hack team." He met Hawke's eyes. "When Brenna's there, so am I. I'll work with Sascha around that."
"Lucas, you have a problem with that?"
The DarkRiver male shook his head. "As long as there's no chance of you getting recognized." He scowled. "You look so f**king Psy, you might as well wear a holo-sign."
That his expression had fooled an alpha told Judd none of his internal struggles were showing. "I'll make certain my appearance isn't a cause for concern."
"There's one more thing." Lucas's markings darkened again. "The deer need to know they're safe. We track and hit the assassins first, a day or so before the computer strike so the Council thinks the blood was all we wanted. They might get complacent."
Judd looked at the DarkRiver alpha and understood that he'd made a promise to the deer to lessen their nightmares. It was how changeling society worked - the predators ran the show, but with it came responsibility. Unlike the Psy Council, the leopards and wolves took the safety and welfare of those under their leadership very seriously. Seriously enough to kill. Changeling justice, but as Lucas had pointed out, it would serve a dual purpose in this case.
And the Psy Council thought changelings stupid. That was their mistake.
Night had fallen during the meeting and it was well past dinner when they made it back to the den. He went with Brenna in spite of the increasing levels of dissonance - proximity in enclosed quarters would only worsen things. But the hunger in him, the raw painful thing that threatened to destroy him, wouldn't let him walk away.
"I'll throw something together in the kitchen," she said as they entered.
He remained in the living area, able to see her moving behind the kitchen counter. The second she turned her back, he took the chance to check the trap he'd placed on her door. Instinct and a need to protect had made him do it. There was something he wasn't seeing, some link his conscious mind hadn't yet forged, but his subconscious had, and it was adamant that she was in danger. Or maybe, he simply wanted her safe.
The trap itself wasn't psychic - he didn't have the ability to tie his power to an object in that fashion. Instead, he'd created it using basic Arrow tech. The device was embedded in her old-fashioned doorknob, and it read the prints of anyone who entered. If the prints didn't belong to Brenna, Andrew, Riley, Hawke, or Judd, the device was programmed to send out an alert to his phone. And as Brenna had discovered, he could go from place to place in the blink of an eye. Teleportation weakened him, but a Tk of his particular subdesignation needed very little power to cause catastrophic damage.
He sat back, satisfied the device was functioning.
"Food's ready." Brenna walked out and his eyes drifted to the thrust of her br**sts under her thin sweater. "Warmed-up leftovers okay with you?"
The hunger he wanted fed had nothing to do with food. "Yes."
Her smile was bright. "You're easy to please. Good, because I'm exhausted."
He slammed up desperate psychic blocks against visions of her in bed, warm, naked, and his. "Let's make it a quick meal." They were midway through it when his phone flashed. He glanced at the incoming code but put it down without reading the message.
"Who was that?"
The huskiness in her voice was like sandpaper across his straining flesh. "No one important."
Curiosity lit up her eyes, but then she shrugged and went back to her dinner. He scrutinized her for several seconds, as he'd never known Brenna to just give up, but she seemed genuinely tired. That made things easier. There were aspects of his life she didn't need to know about - the Council wouldn't hesitate to torture her if they thought she had information they wanted.
Her exhaustion was proven by the huge yawn she gave as they were finishing up. "I'm sorry, but I'm beat. Mind if we cut this even shorter?"
It was exactly the out he needed. "Of course not."
Yet he stood outside her door for long minutes. He was no changeling, but he could smell the feminine heat of her scent, almost taste the lushness of her, his psychic senses multiplying and intensifying the impact of the physical. His fingers curled at the remembered sensation of her skin against his. The compulsion to open the door, walk back in, and take the fatal step into sexual contact was so strong, he had his hand raised when his phone flashed again.
It was a blunt reminder of who and what he was. He didn't care. He'd crossed too many lines with Brenna to go back now. But he was dangerous to her in his current state. So he answered the call. "I'm on my way." Only then did he return to his rooms, gather what he needed, and walk silent and unnoticed out of the den.