EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2018 Jessie Pinkham
ISBN: 978-1-77339-592-0
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
From one sci-fi fan to others.
HIS TO HOLD
Tea and Empathy, 1
Jessie Pinkham
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
“My sister is looking to buy an empath.”
Cole Gallagher looked at his friend Gabe with horror. “That’s a new low even for her.”
“I know. She doesn’t call it that, of course. It’s ‘seeking a mutually beneficial relationship’ or ‘attempting to make a familial alliance’. Skirting around the law by giving money to the empath as a ‘wedding gift,’ with the full understanding it will be transferred to their family.”
“Fancy words for the same thing. Disgusting. I’m sure she’s taking a regressive view on empath rights, too.”
“Of course she is,” said Gabe. “She wants an empath to bond with her so she has someone who wants to please her. To her, that’s the whole point of being an empath’s anchor.”
It was well known that empaths bonded with an anchor as a way to keep their sanity, and because they were so in tune to the person, an empath wanted to make their anchor happy. It was why empaths were so easily exploited, and it was reprehensible to anyone with a heart.
Gabe Thorne came from a family without much heart. He was the black sheep of a wealthy family that controlled nearly all the mining rights for the entire solar system and somewhere along the way had exchanged compassion for massive wealth. The Thornes had earned their fortune through a combination of luck and ruthlessness, the latter trait being one Gabe lacked entirely. Therefore, he eschewed the family business, to his parents’ relief, and worked with Cole as a junior architect at McLaughlin, Green, and Callahan, New Kilkenny’s premiere architecture firm.
“It’s so wrong to use someone like that,” said Cole.
“Don’t I know it. I really wonder how we have the same parents.”
“Anchors have too much power already. The idea of your sister with someone who wants desperately to make her happy is terrifying.” He’d met Gabe’s sister once, and that was more than enough to realize how much she craved power.
Gabe frowned. “I’m trying to prevent it, but I can’t think of how.”
“Nothing good can come out of having so much power over someone.”
“Not for my sister especially.”
“There’s something wrong with someone who even wants that.”
“Preaching to the choir, man. I’m just as appalled as you are.” Gabe opened his mouth to say more when their supervisor walked in. She always arrived precisely two minutes before the workday started, signaling that it was time to get to their desks. “So, meet you for lunch? I’ve got to work on that new pier complex.”
“The Meaney Memorial Library here. See you for lunch.”
As it happened, Gabe was finishing up a phone call when Cole went to their department’s lobby. Cole flicked through the headlines on a news screen, past the politics to which he was largely indifferent. He stopped at the weather, which still called for a pleasant weekend. Excellent. He’d made scuba diving reservations, and their current stretch of clear days would provide good visibility underwater.
There was a video story about empaths, too, which Cole watched with Gabe’s sister in mind. Turned out it was the one hundredth anniversary of the Prohibition of Human Breeding and Empath Rights Act, which had given empaths legal equality. Shamefully, Tusnua had been the last planet in the Human Union to pass this law.
A woman onscreen explained. “Before the Prohibition of Human Breeding and Empath Rights Act, empaths were created in labs from genetically engineered DNA, then grown in artificial wombs. Eventually the recessive genes started showing up in naturally conceived children, and they, too, were denied all rights. Because empaths were originally created in labs, the idea was that we were sub-human, a very self-serving view for those who wanted to keep empaths in servitude.
“Today, one point nine percent of the population is empathic, and we’re still at much higher risk for abuse. Young, unbonded empaths are particularly vulnerable to abduction, with kidnapping rates twelve times that of the general population.”
It was depressing news. Empaths were originally supposed to give an edge in diplomatic negotiations, but soon fell victim to sick bastards, and now, centuries later, the exploitation continued thanks to people such as Gabe’s sister.
Max, their administrative coordinator, cleared his throat. “Cole, do you have a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Gabe. I know this seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I have a younger cousin who’s an empath, so the subject is important to me.”
“Understandably.”
“He’s looking for an anchor.”
Cole wondered what this had to do with him. “I trust his parents aren’t looking to sell him off.”
“Of course not. That’s actually why I brought it up. They want someone who will treat Aiden, my cousin, with utmost respect.”
“I imagine that’s hard to find. Most people who want to be an anchor are in it for the power, aren’t they?”
“Sadly, yes. That’s why I think you should speak with them. You could be a good anchor.”
“What?” This came out of nowhere, and was very unwelcome at that. “No, no. I’m not interested, flattered though I am.”
Max leaned forward. “Don’t you see? It’s people who aren’t looking for the power who make the best, most considerate anchors. Aiden doesn’t have a choice. He has to find an anchor. If he doesn’t, he’ll end up bonding with a random person. It’s not about interest for him, it’s about necessity.”
“Max, I can’t…”
“Please, Cole. Just talk to them, that’s all I ask. He’s developing his empathy faster than expected, and he doesn’t have a lot of time left. We need to find someone who will be good to him before it’s too late. I’d been thinking about you for a few weeks, and hearing you talk with Gabe this morning convinced me.”
That made one of them. Cole frowned. “This is crazy.”
“This is my cousin’s whole life.”
Cole looked at the pleading expression on Max’s face and took a moment to consider the man’s side. It was true that an empath would end up with an anchor one way or another, and he could understand wanting to make sure a family member wasn’t abused. Still, it was a hell of a thing to ask.
“One conversation, Cole. See if you click. Some people have to be anchors, and we need more people to step up and be responsible about it.”
Cole was tempted to ask why he couldn’t leave that to other people, until he realized such an attitude was exactly the problem. He wasn’t happy about it, but faced with Max’s earnest plea he caved. “One conversation.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He already wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
****
Tusnua’s calendar was divided into forty-nine weeks of eight days each, three of which were designated “the weekend” after old Earth parlance. As
an architect Cole’s job allowed him to work the traditional five days and enjoy his remaining three how he saw fit.
This morning, instead of his usual lazy first day of the weekend around his apartment, he took a train from his local station to the intercontinental hub. From there he boarded a train to the northern hemisphere. The final leg of his trip was a five-minute ride to the city of Arnstadt in the region of Tusnua originally settled by German-speaking people some two hundred and fifty years ago. In all, it took him an hour and twenty-five minutes to arrive on the opposite side of the planet.
He tapped his watch. “Give me directions to 814 Hauptstrasse, Arnstadt.”
“Proceed fifteen meters north/left.”
The condo building was close to the city transit station, as promised. It was a fancier place, the kind with a real human doorman instead of automated protocols or a drone such as Cole’s building utilized. The doorman was expecting him and sent him up to the seventeenth floor.
“This is crazy,” he muttered to himself, not for the first time wondering what he was doing. Still, he’d promised Max, and heaven knew he owed the man for saving him from several career mistakes early on, so he’d go talk with this Aiden. He certainly wasn’t obligated for more than a quick chat. An hour, tops, and he could be on his way home.
With that in mind, he rang the doorbell. A moment later the door was opened by a petite, middle-aged woman only just starting to show a graceful acceptance of aging. “Maud Fischer. You must be Colton.”
He accepted her hand with a firm shake. “Please, call me Cole.”
“Come in. We do appreciate you coming to speak with us. My husband, Patrick, and this is Aiden.”
Cole shook both of their hands in turn, though he actually began to feel badly that he was wasting their time. “Nice to meet you,” he said, because it was the polite thing to do.
Aiden didn’t say anything. He was a cute guy, roughly Cole’s height with light brown hair, hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles across his cheekbones, and he looked to be in decent shape. He was certainly not an unattractive man. It didn’t matter if he was the hottest person to walk Tusnua, though. Cole was not looking to be anyone’s anchor.
“Do come make yourself comfortable,” said Patrick. “We’ve tea and Maud’s shortbread. She makes it by hand.”
“Computerized equipment doesn’t do the old family recipe justice,” she said. “Tea?”
“Thank you,” he said. If nothing else a cup of tea would give him something to focus on. “Black, please.”
The four of them sat in the living room, looking out over a small park. It was a pleasant view to be sure, and the shortbread was excellent.
“This is delicious,” said Cole.
“Thank you.”
Patrick got down to business. “Max speaks highly of you.”
“That’s very kind of him. The department would fall apart without him.” Max was around Cole’s age and presently far more crucial to the firm than Cole.
“He said you’d expressed strong views on fair treatment of empaths,” said Maud.
“Yes. He heard me talking with a friend of mine in the same department, whose sister is looking to buy an empath. Of course, that’s not what she calls it, but in my view no name can make it better. Nobody should be treated like an asset instead of a person.”
“You really mean that,” said Aiden. He had a very gentle voice.
“I imagine you can tell.”
“I’m not trying to pry. It’s obvious.”
Cole had assumed Aiden would be checking him out empathically. For one thing, in close quarters empaths couldn’t help it, and for another, it only made sense to thoroughly vet anyone who was a prospective anchor.
“It’s fine. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“You understand our concerns, then,” said Maud. “Aiden needs an anchor. We want to do everything we can to make sure he ends up with a good one, not someone who will exploit him. Even well-meaning people can be problematic.”
“You’re different,” announced Aiden. “You don’t even want to be here, do you?”
Clearly, there was no point in beating around the bush. “Honestly, I’m here as a favor to Max. I never wanted to be anyone’s anchor. It smacks of abuse.”
Aiden gave him a curious look, and Cole felt exposed knowing the empath could tell what he felt. It was kind of like a dream where he realized he was naked, only this was real life and he didn’t have privacy in his own head. It was very disconcerting.
“Every empath needs an anchor,” Aiden said. “Without one we’d go mad.”
“It doesn’t have a pleasant history, and it’s too much power to have over another person.” Not to mention his own feelings would be constantly stripped bare. It would be rude to say that, even if Aiden guessed it was on Cole’s mind.
“True,” said Patrick, “and yet it’s still necessary.”
“If it doesn’t have a pleasant history for you, imagine how scary it is to need one,” said Aiden quietly.
Cole wasn’t sure he could, but what he managed was downright terrifying.
“We’ve rejected numerous suitors who want to be an empath’s anchor.” Maud paused mid-explanation for a sip of tea. “The reason Max noticed you is specifically because you don’t want this. It suggests you’re aware of the potential for abuse of power and are therefore a much better candidate.”
“I understand it’s a lot to ask of you,” said Aiden. “This is my life, though.”
“That’s what Max said.”
“I’m studying geology. Working with rocks is soothing, much more than being around a lot of people.”
“Naturally, we’re looking for an anchor who would support Aiden’s career.” Patrick added a firm gaze for emphasis. “Some people don’t think empaths should have them.”
“Naturally. I think it’s great that you want a career.” Not, he thought to himself, that it mattered what he thought. He really didn’t intend to be anyone’s anchor.
Aiden turned to his parents. “Mum, Dad, can we chat alone for a bit?”
They complied with the request, albeit with clear reluctance.
“My parents want the best for me. I’m very fortunate in that department, really. Still, it’ll be easier without them here.”
He was right. With Maud and Patrick gone, Cole no longer felt like he was facing an inquisition. “Is it all right if I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Does your anchor have to be your partner?” The abuse of empaths as sex slaves used to be horrifically commonplace and, he suspected, still went on in the shadowy places untouched by law. Cole thought there ought to be more options nowadays. “What about a friend or a sibling?”
Aiden smiled, and his whole face kind of lit up as a result. Damn, he really was a good-looking man. “I appreciate your use of the term partner, indicating equality. That works best. Not, as you might think, entirely because of our inclination to keep our anchors happy. Incidentally, did you know that was a side effect of creating empaths? Nobody planned for us to need anchors, but they decided it worked quite well, even better than they’d hoped. Anyway, the bigger issue relates to how empathy works. We get a tremendous amount of empathic input, and the more we develop our abilities the more we’re bombarded with emotions. There are techniques we can use to mute emotions, if you will, but we can’t simply turn the ability off. People talk about mental shields, but it’s neither that simple nor complete. When we are close to reaching our maximum ability, we bond with an anchor, someone we can focus on to tune out everyone else.”
Cole nodded. “Usually around nineteen or twenty, right?”
“Yes. Most people start to show empathic tendencies by age fourteen. I was very late at eighteen, so we thought I’d have a few more years to find an anchor, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. My abilities are growing more rapidly than usual, and I’m likely going to need an anchor within a few months.”
“How old are you?”
<
br /> “Twenty, almost twenty-one. And you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Aiden went back to the original question. “Keep in mind that the closer an empath is to their anchor in terms of physical proximity, the more stabilized they are. It’s why during times of strong emotions, or among large crowds, empaths stick close to their anchors. Now, these techniques we use to mute empathic input—I don’t like the term shields, but I’ll use it for lack of a better one—are nearly impossible to maintain during sex, especially orgasm. Essentially, an orgasm without an anchor present ranges from disorienting to overwhelming empathic input. It’s not particularly pleasant, and that’s why we look for an anchor who will also be our partner.”
That sounded awful to anyone who enjoyed a nice masturbation session, such as Cole. He tried not to focus on the fact that having a cute guy talking about sex was hot, but his dick noticed how attractive Aiden was when he smiled. It had apparently ignored the memo about not being anyone’s anchor.
“Since my abilities are developing late and quickly, my shields aren’t great and an anchor is even more important. We can’t predict exactly when I’ll bond. Best estimate, three to five months.”
“It sounds terrifying,” said Cole without thinking. He had a bad habit of doing that, blurting out the first thing on his mind without considering its impact on his conversation partners.
Fortunately, Aiden didn’t take offense. “It is. Don’t get me wrong, plenty of empaths find wonderful anchors and are very happy. Others, though…” He didn’t need to elaborate.
“I know. It’s so wrong.” When the silence got awkward, he said, “I’ve never wanted to be anyone’s anchor.”
Aiden raised one eyebrow. “Do you think anyone wants to need an anchor?”
He raised a fair point. Cole had to admit, to himself at least, he liked Aiden’s forthrightness. “No, I guess not.”
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