by A. C. Ellas
Energy drained from him, into Yeri, but that energy was replaced as fast as it departed. Sasha drank of the deep, sweet, slightly wild energy of the earth, he made it his and poured it back into Yeri. He worked until the edges of his vision were greying out then lifted his hand and sat back with a weary sigh. “That is all I can do today.”
“It feels better, master.” Yeri rolled to his side and looked at him. “I feel better, master.”
Sasha reached out and ruffled the black, silver-tipped mane. “Good. I think, if you continue to improve at this rate, we can let you go back inside tomorrow.”
“Master,” Yeri began, but Sasha cut him off.
“No, Yeri. I don’t want to use you.” He looked at the Rovani levelly. “I know you feel you must offer because we are friends and because I’ve helped you, but no.” He’d never been with a Rovani and found the idea both attractive and repulsive. Attractive because Yeri was beautiful, not to mention sexy. Repulsive because Yeri didn’t have a choice in who he served. His being Rovani rather than human was a minor matter.
“Why not?” Yeri appeared curious. “I am not being required to offer this, master. I chose to because yes, we are friends.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“What?” Yeri gave him a confused look.
“Being used by strangers. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Ah... why should it? Besides, master, you’re not a stranger. I would be honored, happy, to give you pleasure.”
Sasha shook his head and sighed. If anything, Yeri’s willingness made it worse. The Rovani was a beautiful creature, no doubt about that, but... he wasn’t free. “I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you.”
Yeri inclined his head. He didn’t look, or feel, upset. “As you wish, master.”
* * * *
Yeri dozed fitfully on the blanket. He kept staring up at the tracery of brown branches filled in with green leaves. Finally, it occurred to him to wonder, How did I see the stars last night if I was under this tree the entire time? From there, his mind moved to further contemplation of psi as energy and the implications of that at the quantum level.
A commotion woke him from an unexpected nap. He looked up and blinked at the sight of George and Taiki lugging a brand-new keyboard out into the backyard. With an effort, he sat up. It didn’t hurt as badly as it had that morning, but it still wasn’t easy.
The two men maneuvered the keyboard to the edge of the blanket and set it down. Taiki grinned at him. “It’s portable. Runs on batteries. We have a portable puter, too. Since you can’t go to the music room, we’re bringing the music room to you.”
“Thank you, master,” Yeri said, profoundly grateful. He allowed his gratitude to slip beyond his shields and caught Taiki’s return pleasure at knowing he was really being helpful. Not only would the keyboard allow Yeri to work on that song, but it would also give him something to do at all. He didn’t care for being idle.
“I’ll bring your bouzouki out here, too. Your chest is healed enough that we can practice,” George added.
For a moment, Yeri’s whole being sang with joy. He smiled warmly at George. “Thank you, master. I’d really like that.”
The rest of the day passed much more smoothly and pleasantly as far as Yeri was concerned. He had music, he had George, and while he still hurt, it was getting better quickly. The next morning, Sasha spent another hour healing him then permitted him, at last, to go back inside. A few more days, at the most, Sasha thought, would see the injury completely healed.
Chapter Twelve
George walked through the quieting house. Sasha and Taiki were in the library, playing backgammon over glasses of ouzo. Ellie was working on a paper, Lee was sleeping like the baby he was. Marra had retired for the evening. George wasn’t sure where Devlin was, nor did he care. Yeri was in the music room, alone until George walked in.
For a moment, George just admired Yeri’s profile. Yeri was wearing his reading glasses as he worked on some project or another. He was beautiful to start with, and the glasses added a distinguished air that George found irresistible. On the other hand, he didn’t want to disrupt Yeri’s work or break his concentration. He walked in quietly and approached, telling himself that he only wanted to see what Yeri was working on.
Yeri stopped before he’d gotten halfway there. He took his glasses off, set them down and turned to face George, nostrils flaring. “Master,” he said gravely. He slipped off the bench and padded up to George then knelt gracefully.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” George ran a finger along the top of Yeri’s cheek rein, stroking the soft skin of Yeri’s face.
“I could use a break, master. I’m not making any progress tonight.” Yeri looked up at him, met his gaze, and held it. He was getting better at this, at least when they were alone, he could hold eye contact for nearly a minute. “I want you, master.”
George smiled. It always made him happy when Yeri expressed his own desire. To him, it was proof that Yeri wanted him out of love and not because of duty. “Good. It just so happens that I want you, too.” He stroked Yeri’s head then reached down and hooked a finger under one of the cheek reins. Using this leverage, he drew the Rovani to his feet. “Let’s go downstairs.”
The basement was the best place to go if they wanted privacy, plus there was a pleasure couch down there, a leather-covered, cushioned piece of furniture expressly designed to make sex easier and more enjoyable. Yeri turned his head, catching George’s hand before he could withdraw it, and planted a kiss on it. “Yes, master.”
George stroked Yeri’s head again, brushing the mane back from his forehead. He glanced down at Yeri’s crotch, noting the enlarged bulge straining against the fabric of the wrap. Yeri wasn’t even scent-locked yet, a single dry kiss like that wasn’t quite enough to do it, but his friend was already hot and horny. He turned and headed for the stairs with Yeri on his heels.
Once in the basement, George threw the bolt to further ensure their privacy then stripped, tossing his clothes in the corner. He didn’t bother with a robe tonight, he wanted to go skin to fur with Yeri. He came up behind the sexy, muscular Rovani and pulled him against his chest with one arm as his other hand undid the simple fastening of Yeri’s wrap. The silk garment hadn’t even drifted to the floor before George’s hand was exploring Yeri’s exposed crotch.
He grasped the thick, long shaft of Yeri’s cock and gave it a few pumps before he cupped and rolled Yeri’s balls in his hand. Yeri gasped softly and pressed back against him, George could feel his pleasure even though they weren’t scent-locked. George had no intention of allowing Yeri to scent-lock on him yet. He wanted to bring Yeri off without it, just because he could.
George kissed Yeri behind his right ear then licked the musk glands intently. His grip across Yeri’s midsection tightened as the Rovani squirmed in reaction. He switched to the spot behind the left ear and repeated the process. His hand continued to play with Yeri’s genitals, alternating between stroking the erect cock and rolling the heavy balls. Back and forth, from ear to ear and from cock to balls, he continued to pleasure Yeri until his friend’s body stiffened and he could sense the orgasm crashing through the Rovani.
“Did you like that?” he asked with his lips inches from Yeri’s sensitive ear.
Yeri turned in his arms, pressing himself chest to chest with George. “Yes, master. Please, master, please let me pleasure you.”
George slid a hand to the back of Yeri’s head and gently pressed his face down to his shoulder. Yeri’s tongue was hot, wet, and wonderful, but the immediate backlash of the scent-locking was strong enough to cause George’s legs to tremble and his knees to threaten collapse. George guided them to the pleasure couch. He first sat, drawing Yeri onto his lap then laid down on his back, bringing Yeri atop him. He stroked Yeri’s thighs, encouraging them to part, then brought Yeri down on his erection.
Yeri didn’t mind being on top, in fact, he was very good at makin
g love in this position. He wrapped his legs around George and the couch, planted his hands on either side of his human and proceeded to kiss and lick George’s collarbones as he lustily worked himself on George’s cock. George sank his hands into the soft fur of Yeri’s back, ruffling it through his fingers for the tactile pleasure of it. He’d have to brush the fur after, but that was fine, too.
George closed his eyes, just living in the moment as their bodies shared their lust, their pleasure, and their love with a completeness that transcended anything else he’d ever known. He could feel every nuance of Yeri’s emotions, every layer of his heart and soul. The totality of Yeri’s love for him was as humbling as it was aweing. “S’agapo,” he whispered as orgasm broke over them like a cresting tsunami.
* * * *
The sunlight pouring down from above warmed him. The light breeze ruffling through his fur like a million little fingers cooled him. The scent of earth, of soil, bugs, plants, and flowers filled his nostrils and set his soul at ease. He could feel the energy from deep, deep below creeping upwards through the ground and into him.
“Very good, Yeri,” Sasha’s voice said, somewhere behind and to the right of his location. His healer, now teacher, was resting on a lounging chair under the shade of Yeri’s favorite tree. In the aftermath of the healing, George had asked Sasha to teach Yeri to use his earth sense talent. The man had been surprisingly willing. “Now, cast your senses out, into the air. Feel the winds around you, above you.”
Yeri had found this difficult at first. Now, it was almost second nature. He consciously relaxed his body while thinking about wind, currents of air caused by the warming and cooling of the atmosphere, and then, he was there. It was like flying, without leaving the ground. The airstreams picked him up and carried him along. He slipped from current to current, feeling the patterns. “The weather is stable and will remain so for a few days. There’s a low-pressure system well to the south, aiming for the Aegean.”
Something else nagged, though, something not in the air and not nearby. He traced it, this feeling of pressure, until he found it. “There’s an earthquake coming. In Constantinople. It will be very strong, very bad. The fault is under tremendous strain, the tension is building past the usual breaking point.”
“Skata.”
Yeri blinked back to an awareness of his immediate surroundings. He turned his head to regard the swearing man under the tree. “What’s wrong, master?”
“How long until the earthquake?”
“Days, maybe a week. No more than that.”
“Gamiseme tora.”
After a moment’s reflection, Yeri decided that Sasha wasn’t literally asking him to fuck him now. He blinked but remained silent. After a few moments, Sasha explained the problem.
“How do we give warning without revealing your talent?”
Yeri opened his mouth then closed it. He looked away, toward a bird taking flight. Helidoni, he identified. He shook his head. He was distracting himself for no purpose. “I suppose we have no choice. If there is no warning, many people will die.”
Sasha studied him for several minutes. Yeri wondered what was going through the man’s mind, even as he analyzed the man’s scent, smelling concern, worry, pride, anger, happiness, even grief. It was such a muddle of conflicting emotions that Yeri was unsure how the man was maintaining his composure. Finally, Sasha stood up. “I’ll contact some people I know. They’ll take it from there.” He strode off, back into the house.
Yeri watched him go then turned his attention to the tree. His tree. He gathered himself then sprang, eschewing the easy ascent offered by the gnarled trunk. He grabbed the lowest branch, which stood a good twelve feet off the ground. It was an easy jump, and Yeri used the extra momentum to swing himself up higher until he was lost in the greenery and could no longer see the ground. He lay himself out on a branch just large enough to take his weight and stared up at the screen of green leaves laced with the brown of branches and punctuated by the blue of sky.
He relaxed his body, muscle group by muscle group, until he was able to cast his mind adrift, thinking of nothing in particular, just existing in that moment, soaking in the sensations of where he was. Melody threaded through the back of his mind, soft and sad—a lament. He let the melody evolve in his thoughts until the music filled him. He was grateful to hear the voice of the muse once more but feared to celebrate it, for Efterpi was a goddess, and all goddesses were fickle.
The only homage she would accept from him was that of the music itself. In time, he rolled off the branch, landing on the branch beneath, then down again and again until he performed a perfect three-point landing on the turf. He stood, shook himself, and padded inside, heading for the music room. He had a song to write for the muse.
He sat down on the piano bench, wondering why it was that sitting on the bench didn’t bother him but sitting on a chair at the supper table did. Maybe I should pretend the table’s a piano. He stifled a laugh at himself and stroked the keys with his fingers. George had purchased this piano when they’d first gotten the house, while Yeri’s life hung in the balance of a court case. It had proven a sound investment on George’s part since Yeri found it easier to work out a melody on the piano than on anything else. Yeri’s fingers spread over the cloned ivory keys, and he started to play, chasing the melody in his head.
Chapter Thirteen
Sasha peeked into the study. George and Ellie were both in the room, at different workstations, she with books and papers, he with papers only. He cleared his throat as he allowed the rest of himself to enter.
George glanced at him and nodded. “Good afternoon, Sasha. How’s the training going?”
“It’s going very well, so well, in fact, that we have a problem.”
Now, he had both their attention. Ellie set her book aside. “A problem with Yeri?”
“Not specifically. Though this could spell trouble for him if we aren’t very careful. But, if we do nothing, that could be far worse.”
“What, exactly, is the issue?” George was frowning, and Sasha realized he was discussing the ramifications of a problem he’d yet to explain to them.
“Yeri tells me that there will be a large earthquake in Constantinople. In only days, he says, weeks at the most, but probably sooner rather than later.” Sasha paused, taking in the rounded eyes and gaping mouths. “This is why earth talents are so valued—they can directly sense these things. Yeri could feel how much tension the fault is under.” Sasha still kept his mouth shut on his belief that, given time and training, Yeri could learn to control these events rather than merely predict them. An earth prime... dear god, what couldn’t he do if he exerted himself?
“How is this a problem?” Ellie wondered. “I mean, if there’s an earthquake coming, there’s nothing we can do to stop it, right?”
“If we don’t give warning, many people will die,” Sasha said gently.
“Of course, we have to warn people.” Ellie impatiently brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.
“If we warn the government, they’ll want to know how we know this. They’ll want details. They know my talents, I’m no earth talent, nor am I precognitive. So, this earthquake is not something I can claim the credit for predicting.”
George sighed softly. “I see. I can’t imagine the government will be happy to learn how talented Yeri is. There’s no way of keeping his identity, or his psionic ability, secret if we do the ethical thing and give warning.”
“Exactly.” Sasha licked his lips. “I helped Taiki get a full scan of Yeri several years back. Taiki has the only hard copy of that scan in existence. I did my best to bury the results, but I couldn’t erase it completely from the database. If the government queries, they will find that scan, and then, they’ll find out what I already know.”
“Which is?” George lofted an eyebrow.
“He’s a double prime. Animal telepathy and earth talent both. If he belongs anywhere, he belongs in Amer
ica where they can train those talents completely. My only hope is to give him enough training to keep him under control. Thank god, he’s a natural at shielding.”
Ellie took a deep breath then sighed. “Lineage slaves can’t go to America, Sasha. So, if the government finds out, what will they do?”
“I don’t know,” Sasha said, shrugging.
“It’s possible, barely, that they’d leave him alone.” George had a note of hope in his voice. “Someone who can predict earthquakes, eruptions, storms—how is this harmful?”
Sasha realized he’d have to level with him. He had no real choice, not if these people, who loved Yeri so well, were to understand the real danger Yeri would be in. “Someone who, if he exerted himself, could call and steer a storm or maybe even summon an earthquake? That’s what the level of his talent suggests he could do, and it wouldn’t take the government long to figure that out. And then they’d see, at best, a weapon, and at worst, a threat.”
George rested his head in his hands, elbows propped on the desk. “This isn’t fair,” he said softly. Then, he looked up. “What if we claimed I dreamed it?”
“Nobody would listen,” Ellie said with a snort. “Some superstar musician has a dream, so evacuate the city? Not likely.”
Sasha, however, nodded with sudden hope. “Actually, not a bad idea... but not you, George. I need to make a call. I do know a precog. She’s never predicted something this big, but if she agrees to take the credit, it’ll, at least, be plausible.”
“Use my console,” George replied, gesturing. He stood and allowed Sasha to sit before the computer but remained nearby, watching.