Alawahea

by Sara L Daigle

  He withdrew, leaving her with a warm feeling. Very, very good, Tamara. How do you feel?

  Okay. Tamara again imagined the words leaving her slowly, softly. If she took the time to think in words, they didn’t go flying out quite so fast.

  You’re absolutely right, Tamara. You’re controlling this very well. Like an expert. Greg’s mind tone stayed calm and quiet despite the approval woven through it.

  Tamara stared at his aura; the golden light drew her attention like a magnet. She lifted her hand to reach out, but pulled back, biting her lip.

  Go ahead, you can touch it. Greg answered her unspoken thought.

  She reached out and brushed her hand through the golden light surrounding him. A tingling sensation quivered through her as she touched the light, then pulled away, startled. She’d felt this before, on the receiving end when Merran and Greg touched her sometimes, but never so strongly—Alarin moved into her vision, startling her. The thought that flew through her mind dissipated with a shower of sparks. His aura shone emerald green, kicking highlights off his red hair and flaring bright enough that she had to blink. She could read nothing from his mind, but his glow drew her eyes.

  Get her shielded again Greg … before she sees Merran. She’s free associating right now, and if she starts thinking sexually, she’s going to open those channels. See them? They’ve hardly been touched, even with all her episodes. Alarin spoke to Greg on his intimate level, carefully not touching her.

  You’re right, Alari. Greg betrayed some alarm. By the aarya, she’s strong! She hasn’t even touched her full potential! Merran, you stay there!

  Tamara heard the sharp command and turned to see, her mind wondering what Merran’s aura looked like. An invisible force distracted her, though, holding her face. She frowned and imagined herself pulling the invisible fingers from her face.

  Alarin grunted. “Tamara, don’t fight me.” When he spoke, it was with a weird double echo. Like Greg, his mental voice lacked the resonance of his physical voice, but the feel attached to his voice was strongly his. She relaxed a little against his restraint, accepting his guidance.

  “Why can’t I look?” She spoke out loud, imagining that she was holding her breath as she spoke to try to prevent her thoughts from flying out away from her. “Does everyone have differently colored auras?”

  “Yes,” Greg answered. “All right, Tamara, concentrate. I’m going to have you shield again. Do you think you can do that?”

  Tamara nodded, looking at Greg. “I don’t want to, though. Is this how you see everyone?”

  “Azellians, yes.”

  “How do you get used to it?” Tamara shifted her gaze to Alarin. “It’s beautiful but weird. What color is mine?”

  “Blue.” Alarin looked at her directly. “Concentrate, Tamara.” He tried to capture her eyes with his, to help her focus, but he moved too close and brushed her aura with his.

  Tamara jumped as the tingling sensation, far stronger than before, skittered up her body, settling somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to see him crouched next to her on the couch. His aura hovered inches off hers. She lifted a hand to trail her finger through his aura the way she had done to Greg.

  She didn’t expect his reaction at all. He gasped and scrambled back from her, his eyes wide and nostrils flared.

  “Did I hurt you? Oh God, I’m sorry, Alarin.” Tamara managed just in time to remember not to project at him.

  “You didn’t hurt him,” Greg assured her. “Just concentrate.”

  “What did I do?” Tamara turned to Greg, too worried to focus. “Please tell me.”

  “I’ll tell you when your shielding is back up, Tamara,” Greg told her. “Focus.”

  She tried, but her concentration seemed to have scattered. Warmth curled out from her stomach and wound fragile tentacles around her torso and head, destroying what concentration she had left. She ran her fingers over her forearm, her skin twitching at the touch.

  Are you all right, Alarin? Merran asked from his position in his office as Tamara lost herself in the physical sensations. He watched, trying not to interfere as they struggled to control what was promising to turn into a full Awakening.

  I’ve gone way too long without sex, Alarin’s mind tone snapped back grumpily. I don’t know if I can channel her without sex, Merran. I think she’s too strong for me to dissipate the energies without it, not when I’m this wound up myself.

  Do what you have to. Just get her through this. Merran kept his mind heavily shielded, so as not to add to the stimulation flowing around the room.

  Alarin returned his attention to Tamara, snapping at her with his telekinesis. “Tamara, listen to me.” She turned to look at him. “You are very close to Awakening.”

  Tamara blinked. “This isn’t Awakening?”

  “Not all of it. There’s a large portion of your potential still not tapped. You’re almost in a hypnotic state right now, very susceptible to suggestion. We’re trying to keep you from making associations that will open those pathways. But it seems like you are headed that way no matter what we do. So I offer you an option. Greg and I can help you get there. Or we can try to put this back in its box.”

  Tamara’s eyes glowed with wonder. “I don’t want to lose this new vision. I want to Awaken.”

  Alarin and Greg exchanged glances. “All right, Tamara,” Greg said hesitantly. “I’m too injured to Heal … if any of you need it. But I’m going to have Alarin guide you and try to help open your channels.”

  “How?” Tamara stared at Greg, wide-eyed.

  Alarin lifted his hand. “Just lay back and listen to Greg.”

  Tamara obeyed. She rested her head on the couch and closed her eyes, listening to Greg’s quiet voice. “Visualize, Tamara. Imagine your mind. There are layers upon layers in your mind. All you’ve really done is open the upper levels. There are many, many more. The further down you go, you will find still more levels. I want you to open them up one by one. Feel the energy start to flow through those levels, like a flowing river circulating and cleaning the moss from the rocks of a stream.”

  She obeyed. To her surprise, she could almost feel the currents of energy like that stream Greg was talking about. She sank deeper, listening to Greg’s voice.

  A tingling started in her left arm, racing up to her shoulder and twirling around her stomach, spreading rapidly across her body and out her right hand. The currents of energy she was feeling swirled faster and faster. She almost felt as though if she opened her eyes, she would see it flowing in and out of her body, a thin trickle at first, a stronger and stronger flow as she opened more and more.

  She listened to Greg’s voice, and not much else, as the energy continued to build. She opened layer after layer, going deeper and deeper. The river of energy flowed through her, spreading warmth, clearing cobwebs out of her brain, dispersing a delicious feeling through her limbs.

  Merran watched, thinking they might actually be successful. Tamara obeyed and opened up layer after layer of her mind, listening only to Greg’s voice. In the shielded apartment, nothing else offered her excess energy to suck up, so the flow was smooth. Alarin stroked his fingers through her aura, leaving little green trails, keeping the energy flow moving smoothly through her mind, using the very mild sexual stimulation to help her relax and open the rest of the channels. These levels seemed to have been opened once, so it was not nearly as hard as they had thought it was going to be, given her age.

  The controlled, careful Awakening continued.

  Abruptly, everything changed. Tamara screamed, grabbing her head. The last layer, the last channel in her mind, stayed obdurately fused shut. Fear and horror, self-loathing and guilt all swirled in an impossible morass. She sat, feeling horribly, terribly naked in front of Greg and Alarin—and Merran. She could feel Merran, not touching, but just behind them, watching. How can they know my terrible secret? Everything was forgotten, that she was half-Azellian, that it had been an accide
nt, that they already knew.

  Merran could see the energy start to build. It jammed up against the walls, sliding back over her mind. He could sense her agony, the terrible words that echoed in her mind. Freak, you killed him! Alarin fought her, struggling to keep the shields open, trying to filter the energy through himself at the same time, while Greg watched helplessly.

  Damn it, we’re so close. It’s going to hurt her if she tries to shut it down now, possibly permanently, Greg shot to Alarin, but Merran could hear it, too.

  The damned energy is still building. She’s still sucking energy in but not letting it back out again! Alarin’s mind tone strained, almost in pain. She’s going to burn herself out and take me with her.

  Merran got up and walked into the room. He came around the front of the couch, squatting in front of her. “Tamara.”

  Merran’s voice pulled her up out of the nightmare. No, he can’t know! But there was a reason she couldn’t shut down. Something, someone held her open. She struggled.

  Tamara. Listen to me. We all have our ghosts that we must make our peace with. We all have them. Do you hear me? You are not the first person who has accidentally been part of the death of someone, nor will you be the last. But you will be responsible for the death of yourself if you don’t stay open now. Open up that last layer, Tamara. Let the energy cleanse it, too. She could feel his hands touch her face.

  The physical touch of his aura against hers, of his skin against her skin, made her gasp. She relaxed, listening to his soothing voice. Was this Merran’s true voice? She felt his lips touch her brow and travel down her face. Open, Tamara. Let me help.

  She could feel the energy building, that huge mixture of burning pleasure and pain. I don’t know how!

  Let me in, Tamara. Merran’s lips touched her mouth. A new sensation spread through her, a pulse. He kissed her, darting touches of his tongue encouraging her to open her mouth. She did, shyly, nervously.

  Merran responded to that shy beginning. He deepened the kiss, a part of his mind still monitoring what they were all doing. Pretty thoroughly distracted, she writhed on the couch, having completely forgotten about Greg and Alarin. Merran’s monitoring mind noted that Greg sat in the kitchen, pressed up against the cold of the refrigerator to give himself space from the events in the other room. As he opened himself to Tamara, Merran could feel the sluggish, swollen channels of Greg’s psi, injured from the heavy Healing he had done on Justern, throbbing painfully in the energy currents that pulsed through the room. “My room,” he murmured in Greg’s general direction. “Extra shielding.” Greg attempted to make his way to the bedroom, his channels pounding as he did so.

  Merran’s monitoring mind returned to Tamara as he observed that about halfway up, the walls covering the outflow stopped their slow upward grind, but the energy still jammed against them. Alarin shunted as much of it as he could, but hampered by the uneven walls and his own attempts not to react to Tamara’s projected excitement, he was not being terribly successful. She moaned as Merran’s hands joined his mouth, exploring her. His hands touched her neck and her shoulders, then tugged insistently at her blouse. He felt it when she let herself go, writhing against him in response. She pulled his shirt up, sliding her fingers between the buttons and trailing her fingers across the hair on his chest.

  The touch of her hands on his skin made him gasp and move closer to her, pulling his shirt and tie over his head. He pressed her into the couch, his bare skin rubbing against her shirt. She made a sound low in her throat and pulled her mouth away from his. For a wild moment, Merran wondered if she was going to try to stop what was happening, but she just shifted her attention to his chest, licking at the hair on it, sucking on his nipples. They hardened, and for a moment, he lost control. He pushed against her, a moan escaping him. Somewhere, he could feel Alarin, harsh breathing attesting to his difficulties, channeling as fast as he could. Merran sensed that Alarin was shunting energy through himself as quickly as he could. Now that his energy is mixing with the sexual energy we’re generating, he’s probably going to ride the whole thing with us, Merran suddenly thought.

  As Merran moved against her, Tamara started matching his movements, rubbing against him through her clothes and his. Merran arched back, his own excitement climbing. She reached down for his belt, her breath coming hard and fast through her nostrils. He pulled her mouth back up to his and kissed her ferociously, his hands helping her to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants.

  Is she ready enough that she can ignore the presence of Alarin? Not that Alarin will care, but human-raised Tamara certainly will. Merran made sure the thoughts were hidden behind the shields around his inner self. To get my pants and her clothes off, it’s going to require me to pull away a little. Neither Alarin nor Greg will care … this is a necessary part of Awakening, useful to free the channels. And after Festival, this is nothing, anyway. Merran shoved his thoughts away and kissed Tamara again, moving his mouth down her body. He pulled her shirt off. She still wore her bra, and he teased her through it as he continued to kiss her. She moaned and wriggled under him, which nearly set him off, but he managed to hang on. Barely. The monitoring portion of his mind was only vaguely aware of anything at all. He did notice that she sucked in more energy—where the hell is it coming from? He didn’t care anymore whether Tamara cared or not, or who else was in the room. He pulled his pants off forcefully, with an urgency that would have surprised him if he’d had the attention to spare.

  Tamara didn’t think she could feel anything more strongly than what was already coursing through her, but the feel of Merran’s body against her was almost enough to make her peak. His soft skin, his hard, muscular body so different from her own. With his help, she scrambled out of her own pants and underwear.

  The leather slid under her as he kissed her again. If she didn’t release soon, she knew she would explode. She reached up to him.

  Merran could feel that final mental wall give as he entered her. What he didn’t expect was that it was already full of damned-up passion and energy. When the wall around it went, washing away in a deluge the nightmares that had surrounded all that trapped emotion, she screamed with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The energy flashed up through her, into him, and back through Alarin, searing along all their nerves and tumbling both Merran and Alarin over the edge, Merran’s body expelling so violently he thought he was going to die. He could hear Alarin’s moans—he didn’t sound much better. Pleasure and pain faded to a burning, throbbing agony that made him roll off Tamara and lay panting on the couch next to her. She passed out, and he fought not to do the same.

  He must have, though, because the next thing he knew, calm warmth spread through him. He opened his eyes, the migraine pounding through his head. “Are we all still alive?” His voice didn’t want to work and it came out as a croak.

  “Barely.” Greg knelt in front of him. “I have never in my life seen an Awakening where the one Awakening took not only herself, but two other adult, mature psi over the edge with her. If I hadn’t been in your bedroom, she would have taken me, too.” He motioned down at himself. “As unattracted to women as I am, I would have reacted exactly as you two did.”

  “Is she Awakened?” Merran didn’t dare move for fear of triggering the throbbing in his head, despite the fact that he was uncomfortably sticky.

  “Yes. All levels fully open, shunting energy the way they should. But they’re badly inflamed. That was a lot of energy you three handled. She came damned close to burning all three of you out. Since I can’t Heal you right now, you’re going to be incapacitated for a while. None of you are allowed to leave this apartment for a week, at the least.” Greg leaned back against his heels. “Healer’s orders.”

  At that, Merran struggled to sit up. Greg held him down. “Don’t move. You’re going to hurt if you move.”

  “I can’t stay in this apartment, Greg. I have work to do. I have an interview today.”

  “Do you want to keep your psi? You will stay
in this shielded environment for a week, or you will find yourself on your back for a month, or six months, or a year. You won’t be able to shield yourself adequately to move around in public for at least a week. You should be confined to this apartment for three weeks, but I know I’ll never get you to agree to that. If your channels try to handle anything more, you will burn them out and do permanent damage.”

  Merran closed his eyes. “What about Justern’s trial?”

  “It won’t be handled in the next week. Beyond that, if you take this week off, you might, and I stress might, be able to go back to work. I’m sure Tamara’s father can handle some of the PR stuff, or you can interview from this apartment over the phone. He’s going to need to know that his daughter’s Awakened anyway. I doubt you’re going to feel up to answering questions in ten minutes, but you can try, as long as it’s a phone interview.”

  Merran managed to sit up. He looked down at himself. “I can’t interview like this.”

  Greg motioned to his clothes lying scattered across the floor. “Those aren’t going to work either. They’re a little wrinkled.”

  Merran put his hand to his head. “The aarya help me, I think my head is going to come off. Call Janille and tell her I need to get the interview postponed an hour, no make that two hours, and switched to a video interview.”

  Greg nodded and got to his feet, going over to do as Merran asked. Merran himself swung his feet over the edge of the couch. Tamara lay pale and still, her eyes tightly closed. He couldn’t sense her, not with his psi the way it was, but she breathed at least.