The Psy-Changeling Collection Read Online Free PDF Page A

to her senses. It annoyed the panther that he was mesmerized by her while she remained unmoved. “Tell me about this lot.”
    “It’s prime changeling real estate—just over an hour out of the city, in an area that’s forested enough to feed the soul.” He looked down at her sedate plait. The compulsion to reach over and tug at it was so strong, he didn’t bother to resist.
    She jerked away. “What are you doing?”
    “I wanted to feel what your hair was like.” Sensation was as necessary to him as breathing.
    “Why?”
    No other Psy he’d ever met had asked that question. “It feels good. I like touching soft, silky things.”
    “I see.”
    Was that a tremor he heard in her response? “Try it.”
    “What?”
    He bent a little in invitation. “Go on. Changelings don’t mind touch like the Psy.”
    “It’s well known that you’re territorial,” she said. “You don’t let just anyone touch you.”
    “No. Only Pack, mates, and lovers have skin privileges. But we don’t go crazy like the Psy if someone unknown touches us.” For some inexplicable reason, he wanted her to touch him. And it had nothing to do with learning about a killer. That should’ve given him pause but it was the panther who was in charge at this moment and he wanted to be stroked.
    She lifted her hand and then paused. “There’s no reason to do this.”
    He wondered which one of them she was trying to convince. “Think of it as research. Ever touched a changeling before?”
    Shaking her head, she bridged the remaining distance and ran her fingers through his hair in a wave that made him want to purr. He’d expected her to back off after a single stroke but she surprised him by doing it again. And again.
    “It’s an unusual sensation.” Her hand seemed to linger before dropping. “Your hair is cool and heavy and the texture is similar to a satin-silk I once touched.”
    Trust a Psy to analyze something as simple as touch. “May I?”
    “What?”
    He touched her plait. This time she didn’t react. “Can I undo it?”
    “No.”
    The panther in him froze, sniffing a hint of panic in her tone. “Why?”

CHAPTER 3
     
     
     
    “You don’t have those privileges.”
    Chuckling, he let the plait run through his hand. She stepped away the second it hit her back. Playtime was over. “I chose this land,” he said, answering her earlier question, “because of its closeness to nature. Though most changelings live a civilized life, we’re as animal as we are human—the need to roam the wild is in our blood.”
    “What do you think of yourself as?” she asked. “Human or animal?”
    “We’re both.”
    “One must dominate.” A frown of concentration marred the perfection of her face.
    A frown? On a Psy? It was gone a second later but he’d seen. “No. We’re one. I’m as panther as I am human.”
    “I thought you were a leopard.”
    “Black panthers exist in several feline families. It’s the color of our fur that makes us panthers, not our species.” He wasn’t surprised she didn’t know that. To the Psy the changelings were all animals, all the same. That was their mistake. A wolf was not the same as a leopard, an eagle nothing like a swan.
    And a stalking panther was danger and fury combined.
     
     
    Sascha watched Lucas return to the car to pick up his phone in order to call the SnowDancers. Protected by his turned back, she allowed herself to appreciate his sheer male beauty. He was quite simply . . . luscious. She’d never used that word before, had never found anyone or anything worth using it for. But Lucas Hunter definitely fit the definition.
    Unlike the cold formality of Psy men, he was playful and approachable. That only made him all the more dangerous. She’d glimpsed the predator lurking beneath the surface—Lucas might play nice but when it was time to bite, he’d go for the throat. No one made alpha of a predatory pack at such a young age by being anything less than the top of the food