Tamara blushed furiously. Not that she and Merran had done much since the first couple of nights, but had they sensed those first few nights?
Greg reached over and made a few passes over her aura. She could feel the calm radiating outward from his motion. “Don’t worry about it. Alarin and I expected it and were prepared.”
But did that mean they’d heard or not? She was suddenly terribly self-conscious. Greg tapped her arm, making her look up at him. “Very good. The only reason I know you’re embarrassed, beyond the fact that I know you pretty well, is because you’re blushing. But you’re not leaking at all. ”
She could remember swallowing her moans, trying so hard not to project. Oh God, did I project anyway? “How do I avoid it?”
“You’re doing well right now,” Greg told her. “There’ll come a time when you learn to separate out your different areas, to shield partially, letting some thoughts flow through and keeping other thoughts hidden. Polite behavior on Azelle is to let the surface thoughts show but to keep the rest hidden away. Like Alarin’s doing right now.”
Tamara thinned her shields enough to sense Alarin sitting beside her. Beyond a faint amusement at her blush, she could read nothing. She touched his surface thoughts, skimming over them. Beyond the amusement was a much stronger emotion. He was proud of her, proud of the speed at which she was picking this up, glad to be able to help. She touched the edge of that emotion, savoring it. He let her, as he let her read some of his memories about her learning, showing her how fast she had advanced. His view of her drew her attention, and she watched in amazement at herself from someone else’s eyes.
The contact could not have lasted very long, but she flailed, suddenly enmeshed at a much deeper level than she had meant to be. The memories took on more depth, not just flashes, and the emotion coloring them deepened. His mind tangled around hers, sliding against her in an intimate way she had never felt with anyone other than Merran. She thickened her shields abruptly, pulling away fast. She swayed on the couch as she severed contact, feeling the blood leave her face and seeing the world go dark.
“What happened?” were the first words she heard as she fought off the black at the corner of her vision. She focused on Greg who leaned forward. “Tamara, Alarin, are you all right?”
Alarin looked calm, in control, but a tremor in his hand as he lifted it to brush away a lock of hair from his eyes betrayed that whatever had happened, he’d felt it too. “I’m fine. We just cut off contact a bit too fast and it made me dizzy.”
Greg frowned. “Cut off—” he stopped. “All right,” he continued after a few moments. “Just lay down, Tamara. You just found out what happens when you cut off contact too fast. You’ll be fine in a few moments. The disorientation will pass.”
What in hell happened over there? Merran sent to Alarin on his intimate mode. Merran hung up the phone as he replayed his memory. Like a low noise in the background, Tamara’s training normally didn’t disturb him, but the stark fear and pain that had just shot through the ether slammed against his shields.
Alarin took a moment to answer. When he finally did, Merran understood why. Pain throbbed through the link between himself and Merran. Tamara was reading my surface thoughts and slipped in under my shields. We meshed without meaning to, and she panicked, ending contact too fast. It made us dizzy. Fuck, that hurt. Damn it! She’s strong. How the hell do you survive lovemaking with her?
Merran projected amusement at Alarin. Don’t ask me. Maybe you can tell me someday. Why did she panic so badly at meshing with you?
I don’t know. I’m rather glad she did. I couldn’t have hidden what I need to if she hadn’t panicked and slammed the door shut on me. Nowhere near centered, Alarin’s thought trailed off in a series of swears.
Merran didn’t answer that. He got to his feet and came into the living room.
Tamara flushed as Merran came in. Off center, aching with some nameless feeling she didn’t dare examine too closely, she laid her head back against the couch. Alarin’s cool depths beckoned to her, but she closed her eyes and locked that particular thought away with the others that were far too disturbing to look at closely.
“Are you all right?” Merran asked her solicitously. “I heard the aftermath from the other room.”
“I’m fine,” Tamara struggled to sit up, wishing desperately to be somewhere else. All this closeness to everyone is getting difficult. That’s all it was, she rationalized. We’ve worked pretty closely this past week, so we’ve built a rapport. That’s all. A result of our working together. Her shields high and tight around her, she kept the turmoil buried deep. “How are things going with the embassy?”
Merran sighed and made his way around the couch. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to go back to Azelle as soon as Greg gives me the all clear.”
“What’s happening?” Alarin asked.
Tamara’s stomach dropped to her feet.
Merran seemed not to notice anything amiss. He gave Tamara a light caress by brushing against her aura and put his head back against the couch. “The Council is not at all happy about Greg’s revelation. They want to go over my battle plan in person with me.”
Alarin made a face. “They want to rake you over the coals, you mean.”
Merran nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, yes, they probably want me to strip for them.”
“Strip?” Tamara couldn’t help asking. “Wh—what?”
Merran laughed as Greg and Alarin looked at each other. “It’s what we call it whenever someone wants to do a deep probe. The sensation is similar to being forced to remove all your clothing while another sits there fully clothed.” Merran turned his head and winked at her. “Not that I’ve had the experience.”
“I thought you were comfortable with nakedness,” Tamara said, confused.
Merran spread his hands. “We are. But being forced to be mentally vulnerable when the other is not isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. It’s totally different to choose to be naked than to have it all ripped away.” He stretched. “I have no intention of letting them read anything personal.” He yawned. “But it’s not going to be enjoyable, and the media’s going to have a fit that I’m leaving … again … since they think I’ve been gone this past week already.”
“For how long?” Tamara shivered, hugging herself miserably.
“Depends on how fast they get answers out of me. Maybe a week. Maybe three. Not more than a month. I need to be back for Justern’s trial.” Merran turned to her.
Greg got to his feet. “You want to order a pizza, Alari?”
Alarin jumped up too, moving a bit stiffly. “Tonight? Nah, I think we need something different. Indian maybe?” They moved to the kitchen, still talking.
Tamara didn’t let her disappointment show. “All right. That will give me time to get caught up on my classes, at least.”
“Akila-ala.” Merran seemed to know what she was feeling, although she’d tested the edges of her own shields to make sure she wasn’t leaking and found them solid. “I don’t want to go away this soon in our relationship either, but I have to get this sorted out, or you’ll never manage to get to Azelle and all of us might end up recalled.”
“I know.” Tamara met his eyes. “I’m all right with it. Really. You’ve got a whole bunch of people depending on you. Did you want me to continue working?”
Merran nodded. “They haven’t told me I can’t have an intern, so you’ll go to work like you normally would.”
“Good.” It didn’t feel totally like he was going to be out of her life, then. A whole month? Maybe only a week. She kept her shields up and strong and even managed to be lighthearted, joking with all of them that evening. Instead of working as he had for the past four days, Merran spent the evening with them. Later that evening, he wrapped his mind around hers as they made love, which afterward made her think about what had happened earlier. Despite a very conscious attempt to screen her orgasm from the other room, she almost felt as though Alarin�
��s mind was wrapped in hers, entwined around and through her, an unusual but strong counterpoint to Merran. Again, Merran seemed to notice nothing amiss, and they fell asleep like they normally did, still partially entwined.
That night, though, Tamara dreamed. All through her dreams, green eyes and brown chased her, cool depths and fiery warmth, as she tried to hide—to get some space to think. She woke the next morning unrested and exhausted and not sure she could handle another day locked in this place with these—men. Azellians. Aliens. She felt alien in her own body, in her spirit. She wanted to talk to Kari, to share with someone different, to get away from the constant presence of herself. She lingered in the shower for a long time that morning, avoiding everyone.
When she finally came out, bracing herself to have to deal with more training, another day of Merran working, and Alarin and Greg assaulting her, she got a rather big surprise. Alarin was nowhere to be found in the apartment. Merran stood at his desk, wearing a suit and obviously ready to leave. Greg finished up something, running his hands up Merran’s aura and back down again—his amber aura flaring an angelic gold.
Tamara walked over to Greg and Merran. “What’s happening?”
“Greg’s decided to let us out of prison a day early, because he got his abilities back and can finish our Healing immediately.” Merran turned to her. “Which is good, because the interview I have this afternoon is demanding I meet with him.”
Greg made a face as he stepped away from Merran. “Just don’t push it too hard.” He turned to Tamara, his expression requesting her permission. She spread her hands and let him run his hands over her aura.
His touch did quite a bit to calm her down, and the nagging headache she’d woken up with cleared. It didn’t help her troubled mind, but it did wonders for how she felt.
“All done. You were pretty well Healed anyway.” Greg stepped back from her. “Are you ready for the great outdoors?”
Tamara took a deep breath. “I think so.”
“I would suggest maintaining a pretty thick shield for a while and sleeping in a shielded area tonight,” Greg added. He glanced at Merran, then backed away.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” Merran told her.
Tamara shrugged, feeling awkward for some reason she didn’t really want to explore. “Uh, I don’t want to impose.”
A slight frown touched his brow. “It’s not an imposition, akila-ala. I would … miss having you here. And I’m leaving tomorrow. I’d like to see you tonight.”
“All right.” Tamara wanted to hug him suddenly. She gave in to the desire. Merran wrapped his arms around her and kissed her lightly. “I’d miss you too,” she whispered to him. “I’m going to miss you.”
Merran held her tight, breathing against her neck. He murmured something in Azellian, then pulled away a little and looked down at her. “I know I’m not the easiest person in the world to have a relationship with, Tamara, and it’s hard for me to express how I feel. But I do care.”
Tamara blinked away a sudden desire to cry. She didn’t say anything, but they parted and joined Greg.
The elevator trip down was not anything different, so Tamara wasn’t quite prepared for the outdoors. She apparently wasn’t shielded enough, and the cacophony that assaulted her as she stepped into the bright sunlight almost overwhelmed her. She stopped, shading her eyes and thickening her shielding.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Merran’s voice made her jump. “Greg, will you make sure she gets to campus all right?”
“Of course.” Greg waited silently as Merran walked off. Tamara thinned her shields just a bit, allowing the noise to come through, sorting as best she could the various sounds. Birds talked incessantly, yelling about boundaries, nests, and seduction, squirrels chittered about acorns and raced in fear, anger, or in sheer joy around the trees in the nearby park. A pair of human lovers emoted all over the place as they passed arm in arm. A man and a dog on a leash ran by, the man’s mind all but blank as he pushed his body to its utmost. The dog focused on happy thoughts about running and loving his master. Greg touched her shoulder, bringing his mind suddenly in contact with hers. You could stand here all day and not sense all of it. Thicken your shielding, Tamara. It’s not good to be too open. It may be heady, but if there were any really powerful emotions around right now, you’d be hurting, like someone was shouting in your ear.
Tamara obeyed, even though listening to the tiny thoughts of the birds relaxed her. How often do Azellians talk like this? She let the words form in her head and move through her shielding, her more private areas still protected.
More often than you think. Most of our communication is sharing impressions, Greg replied, demonstrating.
Communication with Greg was different than the meshing with Alarin. She picked up a quick impression of his pleasure at being out in the open, able to Heal and whole again. She practiced returning the communication, her own mind revealing her happiness to be able to see her family and her other friends after being away for the week.
Speaking of your family, Greg sent to her. Your mother. I would like to take a look at her now that I’m better. And Justy’s there.
How do you know Justern’s out of the hospital? Tamara queried, projecting a hint of confusion.
I asked him. I contacted him when we left the apartment. Since he’s with your father, I am going to do two things at once, before I have to deal with the media this afternoon.
Tamara sighed, disgusted with herself. When will I ever learn to do that?
You will. One day, psi will become second nature. Greg smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it, Tamara.”
They walked in companionable silence, Tamara sharing her opinions and new impressions with Greg as they walked through the streets to campus. Tamara picked up her car and drove the two of them to her parents’ house.
The house had an odd hush to it, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something. Andreya came out of her bedroom when Tamara and Greg walked into the house.
“Hey,” Tamara said, feeling odd around her sister for the first time. She’d changed so much in the past couple of weeks that nothing seemed the same. Her light mental touch confirmed that her half-sister felt the same. “Is Dad home?”
Andreya nodded, for once with no rancor. Her attitude had changed dramatically, or had Tamara just gained the ability to read it, not needing to react so badly to it? “He’s in his office.”
“Thanks,” Tamara replied. She turned to Greg. “Andreya, this is Greg. Greg, this is Andreya, my sister.” She could sense Andreya’s hesitant, anxious question about Greg’s identity. Tamara suppressed a smile. She could just imagine how Andreya felt when Peter had shown up with Justern in tow. “Greg’s a Healer.”
Andreya looked at him wide-eyed. Tamara did not look at Greg, but shot a comment to him mentally. What did Justy do to her? Damn, she’s positively overawed.
I didn’t do anything. The voice came from one of the rooms, sounding irritable but strong. Is it my fault if she sneaks into the room at night and things just start flying around the room? I’m sound asleep.
Justern! Greg’s mind tone was chastising. He added something Tamara didn’t hear. You’ve got your psi back, then?
Not as good as I want it, Justern replied, but enough to frighten away the sister of my half-sister.
God, you’re as bad as she is, Tamara scolded.
She received a strong impression of amusement. No, I’m worse.
Good to hear you’re feeling better, Justy. How have you survived the past couple of days? Greg continued the conversation as they walked through to Peter’s office, Andreya trailing along behind.
Tamara knocked on her father’s study door. “Dad? I’m here with Greg.”
“Come in,” Peter called. As Tamara stepped into her father’s inner sanctum, he looked up and smiled at Tamara. “You look good, honey. It seems they treated you well. How are you feeling?”
Limited because Andreya stood behind her, Tamara nodded
. “Great. I feel wonderful.”
Peter smiled and turned his attention to Greg. “How can I help you, Healer?”
“I am here to check up on my fellow Azellian and on your wife.” Greg bowed. “If you still wish me to look at her.”
Peter nodded. “More than ever. She seems to have slipped a bit in the past week.”
Greg inclined his head. “Then I would be happy to.” He bowed again. “May I?”
Peter returned the bow. “As you will.”
While Greg worked on Justern, Tamara went into her stepmother’s room. It felt strange to think of her that way, even if it was true. A sweet, rotten odor greeted her at the door, and she had to close her eyes for a moment. Her mother lay on the bed, apparently asleep. On her wasted body the greenish yellow skin sank between the bones, except on her hands, where skin stretched taught over swollen tissues, giving her hand a false impression of youth. Tamara could feel the tears build as she went to sit by the hospital bed. “Hi, Mom,” she whispered. Feeling suddenly terribly guilty about not having been around for the past week, she reached out slowly and tentatively to touch her mother’s hand. Even though Jeanine Carrington may not have given birth to me, she’s been my mother for as long as I can remember, she thought as she sat down on the chair.
Jeanine opened her eyes. A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Tamara.” The word was barely audible. Tamara had to blink quickly to keep back her tears. “Your father tells me you have been sick. Are you okay?”
Tamara took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Mom. I just had a little bug.”
“Good.” Jeanine closed her eyes again. Her hand rested in Tamara’s.
Tamara sat like that, with her head bowed, trying not to cry, until Greg came in radiating soothing calm. He didn’t say a word, just sat down on a chair beside Tamara and bowed his head.
Jeanine didn’t open her eyes, not even when Greg stood and extended his hands to run them lightly above her body. He rested his hand lightly on her head, then withdrew his touch from her head and turned to leave. Tamara followed.
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