Shifting Heat Lynne Connolly A book in the STORM world. Andros was a severely disabled geek working for STORM but now he’s a powerful shape-shifting dragon. Still a geek though. Meeting Faye when they’re sharing the same air space is a bit of a shock they quickly overcome in a convenient hotel room. Hot, fast, rampant sex is just what Andros needs. Tangling with Faye between the sheets, against her desk, pretty much anywhere he can have her takes energy Andros now has in abundance. But he won’t let his emotions follow. Faye never met anyone in her long life as exciting as Andros. But he works for STORM, Faye’s enemy. She’s never had anyone so young, either. But she can’t resist his strength, his determination—or his ripped body. Together they must hunt down a mutual enemy, but to defeat him they have to come to terms with what they are, were and will become.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Shifting Heat ISBN 9781419934254 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Shifting Heat Copyright © 2011 Lynne Connolly Edited by Jillian Bell Cover art by Syneca Electronic book publication August 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
SHIFTING HEAT Lynne Connolly
Shifting Heat
Chapter One Could she go against a lifetime’s beliefs? Could she cold-bloodedly seduce a man, someone she’d never met, and then steal from him? For the greater good, she’d thought she could. Now she wasn’t so sure. Faye stared out the window of her hotel room, arms crossed over her chest. Another full moon, another night when she had to shape-shift. She had no choice about that. What she did afterward was up to her. Already her body tingled as the compulsion spread through her. A gift from nature, not always welcome or convenient, but no shape-shifter could resist. If they tried, they shifted anyway. Tonight—a night she could be certain she’d find dragons, griffins and other creatures out in their alternate forms—she planned to use it. And the extra shot of libido that came at this time of the month, the only time shape-shifters were fertile, that would help. It would have to. She couldn’t deny that she didn’t want to go, was putting off the moment when she’d leave the relative safety of this room and face the unknown. She’d even thought about seducing a woman. Faye was straight, relentlessly so. Although she’d tried same-sex romance, it hadn’t been for her. But it didn’t repel her, and perhaps if she tried for the sex that didn’t attract her, she might have more chance of remaining impartial, doing the job and moving on. But she had to do what she could for her mentor. And only she could do this, only she could save him, because nobody else had her skills, and nobody else cared enough to risk their life for him. Dark shapes passed across the faces of skyscrapers where unmasked Talents had already taken to the skies. Buildings were beginning to put on their lights, illuminating the glimmer of a scale on a dragon’s wing, the soft variations on the golden fur of a griffin. Life had been much simpler a couple of years ago. Faye sighed, remembering the days when every Talent had lived hidden among mankind. Most people, or most mortals anyway, had considered them legends and told stories about them, never dreaming Talents still existed. Fuzzing people’s minds to disguise their true forms had worked and Faye feared it would become a dying art now that the fear of discovery was gone. Too late now to reconsider the reveal. When the dragon flying over Central Park in daylight had refused to fuzz, refused to deny what he was, the game was up. The world was still coming to terms with it, and would be for a long time to come. Now dragons were on TV, shape-shifters in the Senate. Every Talent was urged to be honest, to reveal themselves for everyone’s good. If certain politicians had their way, Talents would be forced to reveal themselves. She couldn’t see the point. But it was done and finished. It 5
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couldn’t be undone. Coming out had set Talent against Talent. Not that matters had always been peaceful between dragon and vampire, vampire and Sorcerer, but disputes were wrenching communities apart these days. That first Talent had flown from the STORM building. Faye glanced across the expanse of Central Park to where the structure jutted into the sky. Normally it was indistinguishable from the other buildings surrounding it, but tonight anyone looking up could see it was STORM from the number of Talents around it, setting out for a night flight. STORM was supposed to represent the rights of all Talents, but these days they took the part of the government too often. Soon they’d become another government agency and Talents would lose their valuable source of independent advice and help. It was happening already. Faye glanced back at the blank, faceless hotel room and took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve before she took to the skies. A reminder of what she had to do tonight, why she wasn’t in her comfortable apartment downtown. She was taking action to protect the growing resistance, saving the one man who could make it work, who had the charisma and the following to face the people who would force every Talent to come out, whether they wanted to or not. Nobody should be forced to it, though Congress was trying to mandate, saying people should know when Talents lived in their neighborhood, as if they were undesirables. A crock of shit, the whole thing. Lousy excuses. The authorities just wanted control. Enough. Time to go. Grabbing the pouch holding her hotel keycard, she prepared for the shape-shift. She dropped her robe to the floor and hooked the pouch’s long cord around her neck. Although it dropped to the floor, it wouldn’t trail once she’d shapeshifted. The process came as naturally to her as breathing. It no longer excited or surprised her—she’d done it too often. So she didn’t watch the mirror or hold her breath as she leaned forward and let the familiar shape of the dragon come upon her, changing the shape of her bones, the appearance of her skin. She watched the scales spread, urging the shape-shift to hurry, pushing the pace to get out there and get the job done. Tonight she could fly free. Usually she let old habits rule her and fuzzed, but tonight she wanted someone to see her. She didn’t know who yet, but she’d know him when she saw him. Someone vulnerable who came from that building. Someone to seduce. Andros hated the moment of chilly awareness combined with the vulnerability he always experienced when he got naked. He stepped out on to the roof of the STORM building and shivered. One of his colleagues, Nick Ivy, a roc shape-shifter, grinned. “You’re new, aren’t you?” “I’ve worked for STORM for a while.” Andros tried not to cover his genitals, tried to act nonchalant. 6
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The man’s grin broadened. “I meant to shape-shifting. I know you. You’re a geek, aren’t you?” Andros hated to make assumptions, but this big, muscular man with an all-over golden tan—shit, all over—didn’t look as if he spent his days hunched over a computer screen. “Yep, that’s me.” He felt used to the label. More a part of him than the dragon he’d so recently become. “It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Some of the chill of early fall might account for the goose bumps pimpling his skin. But it wouldn’t explain away the nerves prickling with the compulsion to shape-shift and the anxiety nagging at him. “You’ll get used to it.” Nick’s grin broadened. “It’ll get worse first, mind you. It’s only September.” Oh right, the cool air. Usually New York in September was mild, but this happened to be one of those evenings when an unaccountable chill swept over the city, especially this high up. Still, Andros wouldn’t swap it for the sultriness of L.A., where he’d spent most of his life before his recent move. Neither could he get used to being naked with a bunch of other people, most of them strangers, and in a weird pretense of politeness, not let his gaze fall to their groins or stare at nipples tightening against the cold. It was like not acknowledging an elephant in the room. He’d spent much of his life getting naked for doctors and specialists before his conversion but he’d never gotten over the shyness of revealing his body. In the company of other naked people it seemed worse, not better. He felt much happier these days. At least he could walk. He’d gone from a geek with a lifelong illness that would have eventually killed him to a powerful creature who could fly. It was too much, sometimes. He should be grateful. Shit, he was grateful, but he was also scared and unsure. He turned his gaze outward to the lights flickering on in the tall buildings. Blessed evidence of ordinary life. Andros had always loved living in the middle of cities, watching the life going on around him. It gave him a reason not to look at himself, to forget his condition for a time. Nick Ivy was still staring at him. Fuck, Andros would hate to disappoint the guy, but he was relentlessly straight. But this time, when his gaze flickered over him, he couldn’t help noticing the rising erection. The big man glanced down at his body and up at Andros again. “It’s okay. We get horny this time of the month. It doesn’t happen to you?” Andros shook his head, then nodded, then changed his mind. “I’m sorry, you’re real good-looking and all that, but—” Nick threw back his dark head and howled with laughter, but cut it off abruptly and shook his head. “I’m not hitting on you.” Several people nearby glanced at them and grinned. Andros felt like any kind of fool but studiously kept his gaze at face level. He had no intention of discovering he was the only male on top of this building without an erection. But as he thought that, he felt his cock twitch. Oh fuck. Nick, seemingly without Andros’ inhibitions, glanced down. “Yep, you too. It’s the imperative to
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procreate. At least, that’s what someone told me a long time ago. We’re animals, guy. Anyone will tell you that.” He lost the smile completely and his eyes turned grave. “I bet you’ve seen some good stuff, working where you do.” At Andros’ frown, he explained. “Hate mail. Or rather, hate email. STORM is open now too, and the letters keep coming.” “I hardly see them. I built a filter to channel them to a folder, then I archive them without looking.” Why let that kind of grief into his life? “Want a copy?” Something he could do. “Hey, sure, I’d love that.” Andros felt better, useful. That was why he’d turned to computing. His body might be weak, but his brain worked just fine. Always had. Someone nudged Nick. “Your turn.” So many people packed this roof on the three days a month of compulsion that they had to stand in line. Nick nodded at him and turned around. He stepped forward and calmly dropped off the building, joining others doing exactly the same thing. To the uninformed eye, it might look like some kind of weird mass suicide, naked bodies dropping off the side of a tall building. Some of them whooped as they fell. Then, with a flap of powerful wings, the transformed shape-shifter appeared, swooping in the sky in a spectacular display of aerobatics. Dragons mostly, but griffins and other creatures amassed there too, wings sweeping up to catch the currents, creating an even stronger breeze up here. All kinds of flying beasts appeared, some rarely seen even by other Talents. He thought he spotted a basilisk, but the dull gray being disappeared around the edge of another building almost as soon as he saw it. With a deadly shriek and a thrust of powerful wings, the roc soared up above the roof. His razor-sharp beak and huge talons were a testament to his lethal form, the huge bird everything an eagle should be but bigger, better. He blinked once, his lid sliding over the dark eye and then, with an agile twist, he turned and flew off in the direction of Central Park. His turn. Unlike the more experienced Talents here, and that meant most of them, Andros didn’t enjoy the thrill of hurling himself off a building and changing his form midflight, however much his colleagues told him about the exhilaration of transforming with air rushing around their arms, finding an air current and riding it. Swooping their wings down and rising higher. It sounded like less of a thrill right now, and more like dancing with death. He’d never enjoyed roller coasters much, either. Unlike his sister Ania, who’d shrieked her way around every theme park California had to offer. But now he could do something Ania couldn’t. He could fly.
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Still scared that he’d lose the knack and plummet out of the sky, Andros decided to shape-shift and take to the air on top of this building before he ventured farther. It had taken some time before he was able to rise up higher than ten feet or so, but at least he could do that now. And bank, and dip. He wished his friend Jack Hargreaves had stayed here instead of moving to England, because Jack was a new shape-shifter too. They’d learned their new skills together, laughing at each other’s clumsiness. It didn’t matter between them because they were both new. Except Jack, as a jaguar-god shapeshifter, couldn’t fly. But he’d laughed plenty, as had Andros when Jack had tripped over his paws and lost coordination. The human population on the rooftop had thinned some and Andros shivered as a fresh breeze drifted over his skin, putting goose bumps on his goose bumps. He concentrated, lifted his head and stared at the rising moon. The breeze sifted through his hair, tickling his scalp. All he had to do was let it happen. Then he felt it. A prickling sensation as scales slid over his skin. He still had no idea how it happened, but inside, his body relaxed as it obeyed the monthly compulsion. His boss, Ann Reynolds, had told him once that it was Nature’s way of forcing shapeshifters to acknowledge their true being. Maybe so, otherwise some might prefer to remain in human form, their base form. Though, despite his fears, Andros couldn’t imagine choosing not to fly. Overcoming his fear acted like a high, and every time he did it, his apprehension lessened. Once in the air, he found flying a thrill like no other. The nearest he could get to describing it would be a sustained orgasm, not the high, fast kind, but the longdrawn-out, flowing ones. And thank fuck he’d had a few more of those recently than he’d managed before his conversion, even though he’d had to go solo. The extra boost to his libido at this time of the month helped too. There was also a lot to be said for basic good health. The tarred, blackened surface of the roof receded as his size increased. He used to shape-shift with his eyes closed but it wasn’t cool, so now he forced himself to watch. He just didn’t turn his head very much until he’d completed the shape-shift, otherwise the process made him nauseous. The feeling of moving without moving, the way sitting in a train and watching the next train move made him feel as though he were moving himself. Weird. These days the whole world had turned weird. The elastic of his ID ankle bracelet stretched to take the increased size of his leg. That ID would get him back on to STORM’s roof. Otherwise, on his return, a bunch of heavily armed security staff would arrive before he’d shape-shifted back. He’d learned to accept the sensation of cracking, reshaping bones and muscle by now, but if he could shape-shift faster, he’d hardly notice it at all. Or so his colleagues told him. At first they’d stayed back, nannying him, but Andros had done with that. After a lifetime of coddling, he tended to get impatient with people who asked him if he was okay. A shame a kid with a debilitating condition like muscular dystrophy hated being cared for, but there it was. His surly responses to the twentieth “Are you feeling okay today?” had gotten him a bad rep, probably with reason, but sometimes that had 9
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proved too much on top of the constant pain. And his resentment against the world, that he should be burdened with this illness when he’d done nothing to deserve it. Not that he had it anymore. The first few shape-shifts had taken care of the disease. Jesus, if he could market that as a cure, he’d make a fortune. He shuddered, but this time not with cold. His dragon form didn’t feel the cold the way his human form did. He swung out his wing, enjoying the sensation of the breeze rippling across his leathery skin, ruffling the scales. Exhilarating power surged through him, but that was nothing to what he felt when he swept his wings down—which was possible now with few people left on the roof—and felt his body respond, rising with an effortless strength that defeated his remaining forebodings. One downsweep of his wings brought him into contact with the air currents and he left STORM behind, surging through the air. Like swimming but better, without the resistance of water. After a few powerful thrusts, he allowed himself to drift lazily in the direction of Central Park. It was almost tradition now for the winged Talents to head there. After all, Alessandro Gianetti had done the first daylight unfuzzed flight there. Soaring up, he effortlessly avoided the other dragons and flying creatures, enjoying their company but not feeling the need to communicate. Heaven. This part of shapeshifting had filled Andros with joy when he’d first discovered it. Countless dreams of flying just didn’t compare with the reality. Only when he glanced down did he realize how high he’d climbed. Above the tall buildings, even overtopping the Empire State Building, which dominated the midtown skyline. Creatures danced and soared around its spire, chasing each other or just demonstrating their skills. Flickers of bright light from below indicated the inevitable flashes of cameras. Tourists and locals gathered in Central Park and on top of the tall buildings, as well as the street. Some of the building owners held special late openings on the nights of the full moon each month to take advantage of the newest attraction. Sparks of light twinkled over the green swath of the park below, broken only by the calm blue-gray of the reservoir and lake. Andros could appreciate the true beauty of the park as he never had before. On his descent, he encountered a blue dragon, one whose scales gleamed in the waning light. He banked to avoid it but it swooped and swerved, following him, and a tingle in his mind told him she wanted to communicate. Oh yes, she. He sensed the feminine essence of her, had scented her as he passed but hadn’t wanted to intrude on anyone’s enjoyment tonight. Seemed she wanted to enjoy it with him. So he slowed and powered his wings, driving himself up until he floated above her, then swooped behind her to tease her with an extra surge of air to throw her slightly off course. Andros had rarely played before. Life had seemed too short for him to waste time doing anything like that. He’d taken a laptop when he’d accompanied his sister to theme parks, used the time to work
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on a current project, but now—now he had all the time in the world to play. Hundreds of years to learn how to do something just for the exhilaration that coursed through his veins. He heard her laughter in his mind. Dragons rarely used their vocal cords—a bellow, a roar, an odd clicking sound and a kind of purr were more or less the extent of their verbal skills. But their telepathy reflected all the verbal dexterity they had in their human forms. Her amusement tickled his senses, gave him a flush of arousal to add to his already heightened state. She swept past him, brushing his wing with hers. A sweet touch that sent shivers through him. He liked this game. He responded, twisting his flexible body around to come back at her, rushing toward her, only to soar over her head and sweep up, hovering. But dragons couldn’t hover long so he flew past her and turned. Not fast enough. She’d already whirled around and her body was still curved, supple and lithe. As he watched, it straightened and she flicked her tail in a cheeky demonstration of control. She didn’t try to speak to him telepathically, only sent him a warm surge of laughter, which he returned in full. Aerobatics were nothing new to Andros, he’d practiced plenty since his conversion last year. But doing it for sheer joy, playing with another dragon, was new to him. At least it was in this intensity. He felt a connection to her, a link he’d rarely felt since his sister fell in love and married. He wouldn’t have it any other way, seeing Ania so happy, but he’d missed her, missed their easy companionship. Not that he’d tell anyone or admit it. It would feel disloyal when she’d found such happiness. He wondered what this woman looked like in her human form. Almost as soon as he thought it, she sent him an image. It flicked across his mind, there and gone, teasing him with its brief appearance, but he wanted to see more. He got an impression of dark hair cut short, feathery, intense dark eyes and honeyed skin, almost Mediterranean in its warm tone. He wanted to taste. To see more, to feel more. His libido returned in force, spurring him on to take what she seemed to be offering. Andros sent her an image of himself as he was now. He’d long ago abandoned the pitch-black hair dye that had contrasted violently with his Polish-pale skin, so he sent her the tousled blond of his reality. His eyes, ice blue, gleamed in a face that he’d allowed to tan a little in the summer just past. He’d abandoned the emo look, although he still wore some of the clothes, but he didn’t bother with details. He sent her his face and a glimpse of his body clad in jeans and T-shirt. She seemed to approve. He sent her his name and received hers in return. Cara. Pretty. Their first telepathic conversation. Andros shivered, delighted by the response. Even if this came to nothing more, she’d already brightened his evening. Other flying creatures sped past them, dragons, griffins and the occasional bird, probably pissed off by this invasion of its air space. Now he’d opened his mind, fleeting images crossed it,
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images from the Talents and floating, random images from the less-disciplined mortals below. He was closer to the ground, not close enough to discern faces, but close enough to see the disparate colors where they massed. He turned his attention away from them and back to the utterly fascinating blue dragon. Cara. This play showed him a whole new facet of being a Talent. While everyone had treated him with friendship and kindness, nobody had shown an interest like this before. Not in him. When Cara fled across the park and then glanced back, he got the message. She flipped her tail at him and he followed, playfully catching up with her and then letting her get ahead. Her back view was as good as the front. Lissome, supple, mouthwatering. She sent him an image, his golden body entwined with hers, their tails wound around each other, the combined power of their wings sending them high into the blue sky. She mirrored his movements as he moved in rhythmic thrusts against her, responding by pressing close, rubbing her neck against his where the skin was at its most sensitive. Desire roared inside him. If he could have caught up with her, he’d have copied the actions of the dragons in the telepathic vision she’d sent him. Fuck. He was actually thinking about dragon sex? Andros the dragon and Cara the dragon? Most Talents preferred to make love in their human forms, but that sight made him wonder how many shape-shifters fucked in their other forms. She continued to send him visual messages, going from dragon embrace to human form, copying the clothes he’d used in his vision but then letting the garments grow more transparent until they disappeared, melted away and he saw his naked body caressing hers. She held up her breasts in invitation and he accepted, bent to suckle and taste. He hadn’t had sex for a while. He’d thought it a way of testing his resolve. Or maybe it was a bad habit he needed to break. No time like the present. He chased after her, his wings beating a breeze to stir the hair of the people below. They were still taking pictures, the flashes brighter now the natural light had faded. They sparkled after them in a wake he approved of. Benign fireworks. For the first time he wondered about the dragons-breathing-fire thing. Would it impress her? Could he do it? He had no fucking idea. Maybe. He knew how it was done, but he hadn’t tried it yet. She took him to the other side of the park, the West Side, and then down Eighth. Heh. It usually gave him a stupid, childish kick to go the wrong way down Eighth Avenue. Right now he didn’t give a fuck. He followed her to the balcony of a hotel. Not one of the spectacular five-star establishments around the Park, but a more modest place. Although to call any hotel around here modest was probably an understatement. 12
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He hesitated, a sense of self-preservation belatedly creeping up on him, dampening his mood. People still kidnapped Talents and imprisoned them in laboratories to experiment on them. This could be a honey trap. Read me, she said softly. I just like you, that’s all. I want you. Make my New York holiday special. He trusted his instincts and nothing alerted him to danger. His boss always told him to trust the way he felt about a person, and this person had no malice lingering around her. So he hovered above the balcony and shape-shifted, landing with a soft thump. He followed her into the dimly lit room. Only when his toes dug into the soft carpet did Andros remember that he was naked. She wasn’t. She stood before him wearing a silk robe. She must have shape-shifted and grabbed it before he had time to land. More experienced than he was, that was for sure. But the blue silk outlined her figure in an utterly enticing way, a way that made his mouth water. Before he could put his reactions through a filter of civilization, Andros reached for her. Faye shuddered, pure reaction arcing through her as his mouth touched hers. Shit, she’d meant to choose someone she didn’t connect with, someone she wouldn’t feel too bad about double-crossing. Not this. She’d never felt like this just from a kiss. She spread her palms over the skin of his back, hungry to touch as much of him as she could. So smooth, the indent of his spine flexible and delicious. She wanted to taste his skin, but if he took his mouth from hers right now, she’d kill him. Pure lust took over from intellect and reason. She had to fight back. But this could well be a losing battle. She opened her mouth when he touched her lips with his tongue, welcoming him in. So good. So fucking good, she could eat him alive. Desire rose, dampened her thighs, made her take a deep breath through her nose—his male, aroused scent teasing her, rousing her appetite. He tasted like nobody else she’d ever had. Spicy, delicious. Tempting. He swept his tongue around her mouth and she tasted him back. He let her take control, move her tongue against his. She liked that. Occasionally she wanted to be dominated, for the man to take and take, but only sometimes. The rest of the time she preferred a meeting of equals. A fucking of equals. Her skin prickled. That flight should have soothed her raging libido, given her more control, but from the moment her mind had connected with his, her hunger for him had only risen. As if on cue, he moved his hand over her back, sliding it along the silk of her robe, caressing her. The robe made the movement sexier, the notion that she still had one secret left to reveal. He’d seen her other form, but he hadn’t seen her naked. Would he like her body, and would she let him remove her garment?
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That tantalizing final barrier of cloth remained between them, teasing her with its presence but, too engrossed in kissing him, she lost herself in his arms. When he’d shown her his mental image of himself, she’d seen a slender, willowy youth. But the man who held her now didn’t feel like that. No bulging muscles for sure, but strength flowed through him with the ease and power of an athlete. He tugged her even closer and she went, her breasts squashed against the hard planes of his chest, her arms snaking around him to pull him tight. He lifted his mouth from hers and smiled, his eyes creasing slightly at the corners. “Hello,” he said. She huffed a small laugh. “Hello.” He smoothed his hands down her body, curved them around her butt and lifted her so her pussy ground against his erect cock. The pressure made her soak the fabric she wore, her desire manifesting itself in the juice flowing from her. But when she reached for her waist, tried to push between them to loosen the tie, he gave her a hug and touched his lips to her forehead. His tongue snaked out to touch her, as if he couldn’t help himself. “No, don’t. Let me do it.” She was all over that idea. When she first spotted the ankle bracelet that denoted him a STORM employee she’d gone for him with cool determination to get what she needed and go. He wasn’t an operative. They usually had red anklets. Andros had a blue one. An internal worker. Perfect, as long as he had the security level she needed. She’d have to take a chance on that because she couldn’t go back now. All she could think of right now was having him, letting him take her and then taking him. Then doing it again. No, she couldn’t do that, had to remember her mission, but she’d let go, just for a while, enjoy what they had. And just as she’d said, let him give her a memory to take with her when she left. She’d lose herself in this, forget about the rest for however long it took them. Now she thought about it, she realized she hadn’t gotten down and dirty with anybody for a long time. Far too long. That must be it. No sex for a while could drive a dragon crazy, especially at this time of the month. She drew away. He let her, but the way his eyes burned told her he wouldn’t let her get very far. That was fine by her—she wasn’t planning to go far. The dragon remained in his eyes, the burning sparks reminding her of his true nature. That was typical of newly converted shape-shifters, that inability to conceal everything at the time of the full moon. Now she felt even more of a heel for drawing him in, but fuck, she wanted him. She slid her fingers under her belt but he held up one finger and wagged it from side to side, tsking to remind her that it was his job. Smiling, she loosened the belt ever so slightly and drew her hands away. The backs of her knees touched the side of the divan bed. It stood crosswise to the door, and since this room was a standard single room—comfortable but hardly spacious—only a foot separated her from her soon-to-be lover. She tumbled back, bouncing when she hit the bed, and opened her legs. Just a little. She’d left the room lit 14
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for seduction so he wouldn’t be able to see anything but a glimpse of thigh and some shadows in the dim light. His low growl told her she’d succeeded in turning him on even more. His cock stood at full-mast, hard and darker than the rest of his body, engorged and ready. The tip gleamed with a bead of liquid that, as she watched, slowly trickled down, almost like a tear, streaking across the sensitive skin. She wanted to claim it, but she wanted to watch as well. The drop hung on the flared edge of his cock head and she leaned forward, thirstier than she could remember ever being before. But he got to her first. He leaned over her, bracketing her body with his arms, brushing his body against hers but not lying on her. His breath heated her cheek then her mouth when she turned her head to receive his kiss. He dropped a gentle kiss on her lips, lingered to taste and then drew back, slipping his fingers under her robe. Watching her all the while, gazing into her eyes, turning her disrobing into a deeper intimacy, he pulled until the belt came loose. He let it fall and turned his attention to the edges of the garment. He glanced away and it felt as though the temperature in the room dropped. But when she felt his gaze fall on her bare skin, a flush of instant awareness warmed her right through. She smiled, knowing it was a poor effort, but she needed to show him something of what she felt. She had to keep up her psychic barriers, afraid of how well he was trained or how much he could see. That wouldn’t be unusual in a first encounter. He wouldn’t suspect anything. Andros pushed up on to his knees and stared at her. Drank her in, devoured her with his gaze, opening every part of her to his raw inspection. At the same time he probed at her mind, asking her to let him in deeper. The mental connection mattered. Some shape-shifters said it was the most important part of sex, but she couldn’t do this, couldn’t let him in farther than the superficial outer layer. He might read too much. She felt his surprise, then a spark of anger when he realized she wasn’t letting him in. He growled—caught her hands and urged her to unfold them. Still looking, those startlingly bright blue eyes drinking her in as if she were a glass of cool water. She gave a wry grin. “I’m not that special.” She knew how she looked. Reasonably slim, not model-skinny, with medium breasts and medium curves. Everything medium. Not unattractive, but not particularly memorable, either. For once, that could work in her favor tonight. “Gorgeous, that’s how special you are.” He grinned down at her, sharing something she didn’t dare stretch her mind out to discover. He nudged her mental barrier again, trying once more for the deeper connection, but she refused to let him in. His smile didn’t waver. “How about me? Will I do?” She sensed a curious tinge of vulnerability, there and gone in an instant. Not every Talent was built like a linebacker. She happened not to like the linebacker type, although if it came with a pleasing personality she wouldn’t say no. But Andros worked for her.
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“Come here.” She pressed her hands against his chest, then moved them around to grasp him and pull him on top of her. Their mouths joined in a hungry kiss, which morphed into another and then another. He turned her so they lay on their sides, his cock pressed into the soft skin of her stomach, a burning portent of what they were about to do. Faye loved it. They kissed and caressed, each learning the textures and planes of the other’s body. She loved the dip in his waist at the back before it flared out into the smooth curves of his backside, and even more, when she curled her hands around she could touch his balls, faintly furred, hardening, tempting her to slide down his body and taste. Perhaps he read her desire, or a tension in her muscles alerted him, because he pulled her closer and chuckled. “No you don’t. I won’t survive that.” A frown crossed his features. “Unless—you don’t have protection? We’re fertile at this time of the month, aren’t we?” That he had to ask made her pause. Definitely new to this. She’d suspected as much from the sheer delight she’d read from him when they flew over the Park, as if he’d never played like that before. She cupped his cheek, tenderness filling her. “I have protection. Yes, we’re fertile, until tomorrow. Maybe the day after. I’ve heard of that happening.” He raised a brow. “I haven’t heard of that before. Isn’t the three-day rule inviolate?” “I guess I’ve been around too long.” She rubbed her foot against his ankle bracelet, the only thing he wore. “You work for STORM?” If she pretended ignorance, then she’d look like a fool. These days STORM was too famous to ignore. “Yeah.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “How did you know? I mean we’re not the only secure place in the city. Other places use these bracelets.” “I saw you,” she said. “On the roof.” She hadn’t, but she’d flown close enough to the STORM building to ensure she found a worker there, one that suited her purpose. He swallowed. “And you still wanted to play?” Why? Had his takeoff been clumsy? This guy had one hell of an inferiority complex. Or perhaps working alongside the perfect specimens at STORM had given him one. “Oh yes. I’ve always been a sucker for golden dragons.” “I’m not the only one at STORM.” “It was you I wanted.” That was true enough. The trouble was, the more time she spent with him, the more the wanting became personal. Andros wasn’t the means to an end anymore. He was Andros, not her mark. Bad, that was bad. But fighting for control didn’t work anymore. She had to let this powerful urge to fuck him have its way. Then she’d get back to her true purpose tonight. Hopefully. He kissed her then kissed her some more. When they were both breathing a lot more heavily, he shoved back the lock of blond hair that hung over his face. “So where are the condoms? Or do you want us to play hide and seek?” Those hands he’d used to caress her became instruments of torment when they curled around the base of her ribs and applied just the right amount of pressure to tickle mercilessly. 16
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Giggling like a teenager, she pulled away. “No hide and seek. They’re right here.” She leaned over him, loving the way he immediately took advantage of her position and licked her breast, making her sigh as ripples of pleasure unfurled through her whole body. She fumbled more than she had to getting the condoms, especially when he sucked a diamond-hard nipple into his mouth and then caressed it with his tongue. “Oh God.” Fuck, he had a talented tongue. He curled it around her and sucked her deeper. Her body pulsed in time with his pulls, every part of her responding to his caresses, especially when he grabbed her ass and pulled her close. His cock left a damp kiss on her stomach when she drew away. He dragged her back. “You do it.” His eyes gleamed, tempting and coaxing her to do exactly what she wanted to do anyway. She sat up, straddled his thighs and captured his cock in one hand, stroking it, persuading it to harden even more. Though she doubted that was possible, it was fun to try. He made a small sound and his muscles tightened. He groaned. “Do it now. Now!” More liquid seeped from the tip. Reaching out to him with her psi, she picked up his urgency, his need for her. She wouldn’t get any if she didn’t quit teasing, and she definitely wanted some. The thought briefly crossed her mind that she could have done this, given him head or just caressed him to orgasm. But she wanted more, needed it with a frantic desperation she’d never felt before. The evidence of her desperation was dampening the tops of his thighs where she straddled him. She slid along his hairroughened leg, trying to relieve her sense of urgency, to take the edge off. It didn’t work. She rolled the condom over his cock with efficiency rather than sensuality. “It’s like riding a bike,” she remarked, taking the edge off her own need. Andros opened his eyes wider. “Pardon me?” “Putting on protection. I haven’t done this for a while.” “Sex or protection?” “Either.” She responded automatically, openly, but in the next moment, she could have bitten her tongue. She found him too easy to talk with. Biting her lip, she lifted to position her pussy over his cock. The exchange had taken more than the edge off for her. But not for him, it seemed. He grabbed her thighs, stopping her from lowering onto him and lifted his gaze to hers. Slowly. Very slowly, perusing every inch of her body before he met her eyes. “You are so gorgeous. I’m a lucky man tonight.” He paused and his gaze sharpened. “Are you still okay?” Had he picked up on her doubt? That shouldn’t have been possible. She’d loaded the front of her mind with what she wanted him to read, and added her arousal, which she hadn’t preloaded. Everything else she kept locked away. No one had broken that barrier before. Had she somehow become complacent? Shit, she was jumpy. Of course not. He’d read her body language. If he was converted, he’d be naturally better at that. It was one of the ways mortals made up for 17
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their lack of psi. Oh, they had psi, especially simple communication skills, but they didn’t know it. Conditioning, evolution or both had locked the ability down tight, and it took a Sorcerer or a lot of training to unlock it. Andros would have felt the way her muscles tensed, that was all. So she smiled. “Sure. More than okay. Let’s do this.” She lowered her voice to a sexy purr. He didn’t take his hands from her but helped her to descend, hissing when her pussy touched the tip of his cock. A shame they had to use the sheath. She yearned to feel him bare. Not that she could. He laughed shakily. “Not completely a shame. I might have come just touching you if I didn’t have protection on. Inside. I want inside.” His urgency drove her desire on. He slipped inside her and she sighed in relief, but when she wanted to plunge, take him right in, he held her back. “Let me feel it. Every little bit.” She gasped and took him in. She sank down and kept going, but couldn’t keep it nice and slow. She wanted him with a recklessness that sent waves of shock through her. Her head went back and she groaned low in her throat. Leaning forward to rest her hands on either side of him, she moved. And heard his corresponding groan. “Oh that feels so fucking good,” he said, so low she could hardly catch the words. They resonated in her mind, the low vibrations sending her higher. Enjoying every bit of this, far more than she should, she opened her eyes. Amazing, he looked so good. Those remarkable eyes half-closed, she could still see the glitter of sapphire as he studied her, watched her riding him. Her breasts swayed in a sinuous rhythm and if she leaned forward, her nipples touched him with every stroke, grazing his chest. He lifted his arms from her thighs and grasped her hips, supporting her while she moved and raising his buttocks to meet her every downward plunge. His mouth partly open, he swept his tongue out over his lower lip. When he tugged her down, she went, unable to resist the temptation of his luscious mouth. The lower lip was slightly fuller than the upper and she licked it before joining her mouth to his for a kiss as deep, as hard as their combined movements. Leaning forward brought his cock into contact with a spot deep inside her. With her body so open to his, touching his, her knees forward, he could go deep, deeper than she usually felt. Or maybe this was just the magic of Andros. Stop it, stupid. But more and more the temptation hovered—to forget her plan and just spend the night here with him, enjoying him and seeing what else they could achieve together. Waves of sensation flowed through her, deeper with every downward push of her body. Let go, he urged her, mind to mind. The connection drove her to rise above the peak and soar. The waves turned into a flood and her pussy clenched around him. With a wordless cry, she experienced every pulse and shared her ecstasy with him, unthinkingly opening to pour the feeling into him. 18
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It turned the tide, forced him over and she felt his orgasm like she had her own. For a bare instant they merged and together they cried out into each other’s mouths, into their hearts and souls. Faye wrenched her senses back to reality, a sense of doom clouding her ecstasy. She could only hope he hadn’t realized she’d dropped her barriers.
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Chapter Two It took Faye ten minutes to slip out of bed without disturbing Andros, sliding out slowly, leaving his embrace with not a little regret. Every time she moved he moaned and reached for her, so for every six inches she gained, she lost three. And she didn’t want to go. That only made it harder. She gathered her clothes and stuffed them in the sports bag she’d left on a chair. She went back into the bedroom and slid his blue ankle bracelet free. Perfect, as long as he had the right security clearance. If he handled computers, he probably had a high clearance level. Enough for her purposes, anyway. He stirred and groaned. She half wanted him to wake up so they could have another session before she had to leave, but she knew she couldn’t. Shouldn’t. But no, he curled one strong arm around the pillow she’d left in her place and clutched it. Dreaming of her, she couldn’t help hoping. When she ventured into the outer reaches of his mind, she felt him stirring. Telepathically, she sent him soothing dreams, peaceful messages, and waited until he’d slid off to slumber again. He looked so sexy, his bare leg caught in the duvet, that wayward lock of bright hair falling over his face. Her heart ached but her duty remained clear. She had to do this. She went through to the bathroom and rinsed out the glasses from the bottle of wine they’d shared. She put them down with exaggerated care. She’d only given him a little of the drug, not wanting to spoil his memories by giving him a hangover. She only needed him asleep long enough for her to complete her mission without him raising the alarm. But if she hadn’t given him enough, he’d wake up before she got clear. The thought gave her prickles of tension. She took one last look at him and touched her lips, recalling the kisses, tender and passionate, that he’d pressed on them. If she ever met him again, he’d be on the other side. He’d hate her. She hoped they wouldn’t blame him too much for letting his guard down. He didn’t deserve it. She didn’t even dare take a shower. That would come later. Not soon enough for her, though. She wanted to wash the scent of him off her, pretend it didn’t happen. No she didn’t, that was a lie. She wanted to wash away the guilt, but she feared it was already too late, because it had buried itself deep, as guilt tends to do, eating at her stomach, churning it into a nauseous reminder of her betrayal of Andros. She’d hidden the unusually long straps of her sports bag because they might have clued him in to what she intended. Unlike Andros, she could shape-shift in midair, but she had to slip the straps of the bag around her neck. It was small enough not to block her when she climbed out the open window. She leaped up and out. Normally she loved this part, but tonight she felt too heartsick to savor it. She shape-shifted, spread 20
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her wings and rose with the current, letting the air take her higher, above the buildings. The bag tugged at her but she ignored the weight. Andros had gotten to her, somewhere deep down where she never allowed anyone to go. But she’d let him. In a moment of sheer, uncaring restlessness that she didn’t want to explain. Just for a moment, forgot all her cares and troubles and just been. With him. He’d made her feel safe and given her the spirit to fly free. She hadn’t felt that way for a long, long time. Time to forget all that. Time to work. Recalling the plan of the STORM building that she’d managed to download from the internet, she set her sights to the East Side. She didn’t even know if the plan was correct, and she’d grabbed it from the darknet, so it could be anything. But it was all she had. The top of the STORM building came into view. A few Talents moved around, but the masses that had thronged the roof at sundown were no more. She landed behind a metal duct that stuck up like a chimney but gushed air instead of smoke. Those days when a pall of smoke lay over the city had gone, long gone. She couldn’t feel sorry about that, but it had held a touch of romanticism. Either that or her memories were rose-tinted. Holding her breath, she waited for the alarm, but none came. The ankle bracelet was working. Swiftly, she dressed in the jeans and hooded fleece she’d brought, slipping on the running shoes afterward. All anonymous, new items that she’d discard later, get rid of any smidgeon of evidence. She pulled thin latex gloves over her hands, so fine that once she’d hidden the rolled ends under her cuffs, they weren’t noticeable unless someone was actually looking for them. She brushed her hair free to fall over her shoulders so she could shield her face when she needed to. She was ready. As she moved around the steel column, she pasted an easy smile on her face. Half a dozen people populated the rooftop area, some chatting, some dressing. Her half-smile got her past them. One stared at her and raised a brow. A big man, rawboned, his jeans loosely slung around his hips and his chest bare. He thrust a hand through his thick dark hair, restoring it to some kind of order. She had to stop when he saw her. “Do I know you?” he said. “I haven’t seen you around before.” His smile indicated the friendly approach rather than the security check. “No. I haven’t been here long. I’ve got to go. I’m still working.” His smile broadened. “Want to share a coffee break sometime? The name’s Nick Ivy.” “Sure.” If she gave him the elbow, he’d be more likely to remember her for it. He looked like the kind of man women said yes to on a regular basis. Now she’d have to think of a fake name, fast. Why hadn’t she done that earlier? Because she’d never done this kind of thing before and she was doing it on her own, so she didn’t involve anyone else.
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He jerked his head up as if he was listening and then glanced at her. “Sorry, got to go.” He made a face. “Duty calls. But I’ll be watching for you.” Without his smile, that would have sounded like a threat. She waited until he’d gone, counted to twenty and then made her own escape from the roof. Only when she was going down the internal staircase did she realize that he hadn’t touched her libido one bit. Considering his devastating good looks and the time of the month, he should have had some effect. But nothing. And she couldn’t put it all down to the rising tension sending her body into cramps. Some of it was from the residual awareness of what she’d just shared in that anonymous hotel room. She slung the sports bag over her shoulder and set off to do her job. Soon enough she’d find out if Andros had the clearance she needed. If he didn’t, or if someone stopped her, she had her plan ready. A bet that went wrong, a stupid prank, she’d say. After all, it went with her day job. She met no one on her way to the elevators, but she imagined the security cameras followed her all the way. So she walked confidently, didn’t hurry, just lengthened her stride as much as she dared. She knew the layout of this building, more or less. Iso rooms and holding cells on the fifth floor, that was what she needed. She got off on the sixth floor and walked down, still meeting nobody. This was getting creepy. Did no one work late here? It was almost a relief to see someone standing outside one of the doors. A circular window like a porthole was set in the unremarkable panel of cream wood. She paused and smiled at the man. He was dressed in a navy suit that screamed “security”, with a cell phone and a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt and a small gun holster to one side. She would have thought that redundant, with the number of powerful beings here who could kill or maim with a thought. But perhaps the man was one of the mortals who worked here. She wouldn’t risk putting out her senses to find out. “I’m here to see someone. Harken Nordheim.” “You have permission?” She drew out a form from her jacket pocket. “Will this do?” It wouldn’t, she knew. She’d printed a random official-looking document from the internet. It didn’t mean a thing, but what she was about to do would probably mean more. He bent his head to examine it and she held her breath, partially shape-shifted to boost her strength and hit him, a full chop to the back of the neck. She’d practiced the move, done it over and over until she had it right, but she hadn’t done it to a living, breathing human before. Only a first-aid dummy. The man crumpled like a piece of paper, collapsing to the floor in a gentle heap of unconsciousness, though thankfully alive. His ill-fitting uniform tore a little from the strain. She heard the rip as he went down. She could hardly believe it. This was so easy. With no one in sight and no one heading in their direction, she had to be quick. Because sure as fuck somebody would 22
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come soon. She dragged the hood of her top over her head and fumbled with the keys, flinging the door wide. The pure white of an isolation room greeted her, together with the man she was here to rescue. He stood legs apart, his eyes wide, his mouth cracked in a huge smile. His confidence, before now so invigorating, struck her as slightly irritating. Shouldn’t he be grateful or something? He didn’t even seem surprised. “Good girl! How did you do it?” “We haven’t done it yet.” She beckoned. “We need to get out of here.” Without looking back, she headed for the stairs, the soft pad of his feet following her. He touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong with the elevators?” “Are you insane? They could trap us there. Stairs are better. Come on.” They hurtled down the stairs, but on the first floor someone waited for them. A slightly built woman but that didn’t fool Faye. This person was a Sorcerer. She felt the power of the woman’s finely honed psi senses and knew she’d have no chance fighting her that way. So Faye rushed her, hit her before the Sorcerer could open her mind and attack. The woman’s head hit the floor with a sickening thud and she lost consciousness. Faye didn’t wait to ensure her safety, just touched her with her mind to make sure she was still alive. She turned around but spun back at the sound of a solid thump and the echo of pain in her psi senses. Harken was staring down at the woman, a satisfied grin wreathing his face. Surely Harken hadn’t just kicked the woman? No, of course not. The man she knew wouldn’t do that. But it looked like it. She beckoned and he followed her to the stairs leading down to the parking area, easily found because it was labeled. She’d never imagined a top security building would have the floors and areas clearly labeled, but she needn’t have gone to the trouble of memorizing the plan that had turned out to have nothing to do with reality anyway. Fresh air blew across them and she picked up speed, heading for the first vehicle she saw. A small car, yellow, its body spattered with dirt and mud from this morning’s shower of rain. She wrenched the door open, putting all her strength into pulling it free of its lock. Small car, paltry security. She flicked up the passenger door lock and Harken scrambled in. Fumbling under the dashboard, she found the wires and forced her mind into compliance, remembering the skill she’d only recently learned. She touched the right wires together, relieved when the car choked into life. No wheel lock, no electronic gizmos keeping the vehicle safe. That was why she’d chosen a small, cheap, older model. If she hadn’t found one, she’d have risked a bigger one, or even running and flying, but this was better. No psychic trail for them to trace.
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She’d learned how to bury her shape-shifter self years ago and she did it now, forcing her psi into slumber. Feeling sorry for the ordinary office worker whose car she’d just stolen, she headed for the barriers. No alarm sounded. She still wore the ankle bracelet and it still held good. Any minute now the alarm would sound and the ankle bracelets would be deactivated. Once out of the building, she heaved a sigh of relief. She felt even better when they’d traveled a few streets and she could be sure nobody followed them. “I can’t thank you enough,” Harken said. He didn’t look so confident now. When she risked a glance at him, she saw the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of strain by his mouth. “I don’t think I could have held out for much longer. They questioned me once. It wasn’t pleasant. They would have done it again. That woman did it once, the one you took down. She was probably on her way to doing it again.” “That’s okay. Somebody had to get you out.” It was done. So why did she feel so bad, instead of triumphant?
***** Andros groaned and rolled over, reaching for Faye. Why had he fallen asleep? He wanted more of this woman. After they’d shared a half bottle of white wine from the refrigerator, he’d dozed, determined to wake and have more of her. He rolled on to his back and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Fuck, he felt groggy. He was alone in the bed. Maybe she was taking a shower. He shoved the covers aside and crossed the room on shaky legs. When he opened the door to the miniscule bathroom he found no one there, only two glasses rinsed out and drying on the side of the sink. Something roiled in his gut. Slowly he turned back to the room. Her sports bag was gone too. Oh no. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Andros tried to think. They’d made glorious love, shared the wine and then—nothing. And he had a killer headache pounding at the back of his skull. Realization hit him with the force of a jackhammer. Fuck, she’d drugged him. He remembered her hand going into her bag before she poured the wine—getting more condoms, she said, and she’d showed him a couple. Probably picked up a pill at the same time. He hadn’t kept the glasses in clear view all the time. Shit, he wasn’t an agent, why should he worry? Besides, if she wanted to rob him, she was out of luck… His shocked gaze went down to his bare feet. She’d taken his ankle bracelet. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckety fuck. He had to get back to STORM, fast. Or make contact. He glanced at the bedside table. No phone. Cheaper hotels sometimes did away with phones, but with cell phones so prevalent, people didn’t use them like they used to. Pity his cell was back at his apartment in STORM.
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He went back to the bed and tried to concentrate, to work on his psi, to try to contact someone telepathically. The effort made his head pound and he had to fight down a rising wave of nausea. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t contact his other self. What the fuck had she given him? The answer came fast. Cephalox. That would block his access to his dragon self for a while to come. Surgeons used it to maintain a shape-shifter’s form during procedures, stop involuntary shape-shifting, but since it had entered a wider market, people used it to drug and capture shape-shifters. He couldn’t use his psi, either. No telepathy. She’d incapacitated him. Why hadn’t he brought some clothes with him, or some plastic so he could send out for some? Because he hadn’t been using his head. At least not the one with his brain in it. He leaned back because his head hurt less that way, and thought. He only had to get across the park. He jogged there most mornings. The exercise would probably help to clear his head, as well. With no clothes or cash it’d be tricky. He couldn’t even pay for the room here, and he’d bet she hadn’t bothered. How the fuck did he get out of this? Half an hour later, a disheveled Andros jogged through the main door of STORM. He’d stolen a hotel towel to cover his privates, fashioned it into a loincloth. Otherwise he’d have been arrested for indecency. That law still applied, even for shape-shifters who didn’t give a shit about nakedness. He’d face security here if he had to. He’d have to fess up about the ankle bracelet, anyway. The only person in the chilly marble area was the receptionist, who glanced up and grinned when she saw him. “You been out partying?” Thank God, someone he knew, someone who wouldn’t ask for his identity, with any luck. He’d lunched with her in the cafeteria one time, even tried to hit on her without much success. He forced a grin. “Something like that. See this often, do you?” She eyed him up and down and raised a brow. “Not often enough.” His hand went to the knot on his towel. Still securely tied. He’d gotten a few stares, but as far as he knew, nobody had taken pictures. He gave the receptionist a mock snarl and strode past to the sound of her giggles. “You’re lucky they’re busy today,” the woman remarked. “I can’t see the boss appreciating you arriving in that condition.” Her words made him turn. “I thought it was a quiet day.” He hadn’t heard of any new operations, anything that would make them extra busy, and as one of the heads of departments, he’d have heard something. She flapped her hand. “Oh, I don’t know. Lots of fussing, and I’m supposed to check everybody who comes through.” She gave him a slow perusal, up and down.
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Then she did it again. “So I checked you. And I’m beginning to change my mind about that date.” So was he. “I’ll call you. Right now I need to get out of this—towel.” The fuss could be anything. He could only hope that it didn’t concern him and his missing ankle bracelet. Unlikely, but if it was, he’d find someone waiting for him. By some miracle the elevator car was empty. He stalked in with a sigh of relief and stabbed the button for his floor. When the elevator doors opened, Andros wasted no time in hurrying to his apartment. This floor held several guest apartments and a few residential ones. They’d given one to Andros when he was still disabled, and he’d been there ever since. Going to work had never been so easy. Luckily he didn’t bump into anyone on the way. He couldn’t have borne the water cooler gossip. He’d have moved out first. Back in his apartment, he ripped off the hated towel and headed for the shower. After he’d washed his hair for the second time, he felt the steam go out of his temper. He needed that. Needed to think properly. He let himself relax under the spray, let his mind drift and open to ideas. And then the thought came to him. He knew where to start looking for her. She’d opened to him for a fraction of time at the peak of her final orgasm and they’d melded minds. He’d caught a few images and learned her pattern. Once in her vicinity he could find her. And he knew where she was, because he recognized one of the images. The old architecture was the center of the university where he’d signed up to do a doctoral course. When his illness worsened, the course had helped to give him something to live for, but on his conversion he’d given it up. He needed time to learn how to be a dragon, how to cope with his new life, his new body. So he’d dropped out. He always meant to go back. He could get his ankle bracelet back. He tried an experimental shape-shift. Oh yeah. It hurt, but he could do it, and when he opened his mind, he could sense something. If he worked at it he could get that back, no problem. She must have given him a small dose, because a full dose of cephalox would have lasted twenty-four hours. In a better frame of mind, he dressed, ran a comb through his hair and left his apartment. When he ventured downstairs to his office, Andros found STORM in a state of controlled chaos. But nobody bothered him and nobody waited outside his office. Once he’d closed the door behind him, he sighed in relief. His office was a long, narrow room with shelves on each side. At one time it had probably been a storeroom, but the shelves now bore a selection of state-of-the-art computers and peripherals, as well as cables, piles of paper and other junk. But Andros saw the order at once. He’d always preferred order; in the days of crutches and wheelchairs, he’d needed the order. Even though his sister always lived in an area that looked as if a bomb had hit it. He grinned when he recalled how Johann, Ania’s lover,
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now husband, had reacted to the chaos of the apartment they’d shared in L.A. Johann had imagined someone had broken in and ransacked the place. Andros wondered how they were managing to keep their New York apartment tidy. Ania tended to scatter items in her wake. She created nests, and everywhere she went she left something behind, a watch, a shopping list, a discarded sweater. Their apartment certainly seemed tidy enough, but maybe Johann was employing help. Besides, Ania had more than tidiness to occupy her these days, because, like Andros himself, she’d been converted. But unlike Andros, she’d become that rarest of Talents, a converted vampire. Since vampires had to give up their lives in order to convert a mortal, that didn’t happen very often. Next to that change in lifestyle, tidiness seemed a paltry matter. Sitting at the computer, he booted up the nearest PC and opened a web browser. He typed almost without thinking, having conducted many searches before as part of his job. He always started with the common web searching engines. It was amazing what he could find out just with those. Ah. Result. He found a list of faculty at the university and brought it up on the screen, together with the thumbnail photos. Yes, there she was. Fuck, she hadn’t even used her real name. Well, he’d pay Ms. Faye McCauley a visit. Time he resurrected his university career. Good time of year to do it too. He checked the dates on the website. He’d be just in time to register. It closed at four thirty today, although he rather imagined that Ann Reynolds could get him an extension if he asked her to. And if he wanted to draw attention to himself, of course. He stretched, reaching his arms above his head, savoring the ease with which he could do that, and caught sight of the pair of crutches propped by the door. He didn’t need them anymore, but he kept them anyway. Insurance, a reminder, or maybe he was just used to them. It wasn’t home unless he had some crutches in sight. These were one of the pairs he’d customized in his emo-goth days. Painted black, decorated with stickon skulls, stars and moons he’d found in a craft store, then sprayed with iridescent clear lacquer. Flashy, but preferable to the boring gray or white hospital-issue ones. These were forearm crutches, better designed ergonomically, meaning he could lean on them and use his hands freely. He remembered his first pair, and how much better he’d found them than the underarm type. While he couldn’t think of them as happy days, they weren’t all bad. Maybe that was why he couldn’t completely leave that time behind. Leaving his office, he headed downstairs, crutches tucked under his arm. If he’d learned one thing from his time here, it was not to give adversaries any advantage. The last time he’d gone in to classes, he’d been in a wheelchair. They had no idea about his conversion—very few people did. There’d just been no reason to broadcast the fact, although he hadn’t made a secret of it, either. Just didn’t go out much, nor had any call to. He’d make it work for him now. About time the disease that had nearly ended his
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life gave him some payback. If he came up against any problems, they’d assume he was weak, and Faye hadn’t taken that ankle bracelet on a whim. She’d done it with a purpose in mind, so she might have accomplices. If she worked at the university, she lived nearby, near enough to commute. But she’d rented a hotel room, which meant she didn’t want to leave traces behind, which meant she’d planned it. If not him, then another man. The thought was enough to make him growl low in his throat, but when his companions in the elevator gave him raised brows and odd looks, he left off and started to plan his revenge instead. Faye sat at her desk and leafed through her list of students for the term. Teaching literature could be exciting and it could be the most tedious and frustrating experience in existence. It depended on the students. She had a class of seventy to lecture to, and a group of five to mentor. None of them appeared any different than the last bunch, but hidden gems were just that—hidden—and she’d found one or two in her time here. So much had happened since she last sat here—had it really been only the day before yesterday?—that perhaps she should give herself some time to catch up with events. Her fatigue could well be the reason she felt like this—completely drained and demoralized. The adrenaline spike had thrown her whole system off kilter. She glanced up as the door opened, and smiled at Harken Nordheim. He carefully closed the door behind him, looking far better than he had a right to, considering his ordeal. When he took two large strides to sweep her into his arms and give her a smacking kiss on each cheek, she laughed, a little embarrassed. “Thanks, you beautiful thing,” he said. Harken was tall, with gleaming gold and gray hair swept back from his high temples, gray eyes and classical features. His tall frame wasn’t half bad, either. So why didn’t he turn her on like Andros did? And why was she still thinking about Andros? She’d set herself to forget, but so far that project had been an abject failure. “Hey, Harken, nice to see you too,” she said, trying to be normal, not letting him see how profoundly last night’s adventure had affected her. She needed to set it all in place in her own mind first. He loosened his hold but kept her in the circle of his arms. “You were fantastic. So cool, the way you put out those guards. I’m proud of you.” She’d hated that part but she shrugged, trying not to let it show. That one telling moment when Harken had kicked the Sorcerer for no reason other than revenge had concerned her. She already knew Harken had an arrogant streak. Now she wondered how far that arrogance went. “They just weren’t expecting an attack. I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t set it up right.” He cupped her cheek. “Did he hurt you? The guy you took the ankle bracelet from?” “No.” She pulled away and went back behind her desk, head down. “He was okay. I felt a bit of a shit doing it, actually. Some geek who worked at STORM.”
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“Did you have to go all the way?” He stood on the other side of the desk, placed his palms on the shiny surface and leaned forward. “Don’t feel bad. You needed that ankle bracelet and all’s fair these days.” He didn’t flinch, didn’t show any sign of distress on her behalf. Just triumph that they’d done it. Faye hated to admit that lurking thrill she felt, that she’d broken into STORM and rescued a prisoner where so many others had failed. She’d never heard of anyone escaping from that place before. But betraying Andros and the hurt she’d inflicted on people only doing their jobs made her feel sick to her stomach. Harken seemed to have none of her misgivings. He didn’t care what she’d done to get that bracelet. He didn’t give a shit, so long as she’d rescued him. That hurt the most. She’d thought they had something, the start of a relationship maybe, but he hadn’t shown any regret or anger that she’d fucked someone else. He’d paid her special attention, told her some of his secrets. They’d shared a few enjoyable dates and, while they had yet to go to bed together, she’d imagined it would be part of the developing relationship. He still appeared to think so, but now she knew that would never happen. Finally he picked up on her less than ecstatic mood. Harken rarely used psi, but this time she felt his light entry into her outer mind, touching her concerns. Although mortal, he’d learned to use his innate telepathy, the skill most mortals suppressed at birth without even knowing they had it. Now some used it, and were taking classes in developing it. He gave her a wry smile. “Listen, sweetheart, I know this hurt. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. The guy won’t get into trouble—just get taken to task, probably. You did right. He doesn’t know you, can’t trace you. Speke isn’t the biggest university in New York, but it’s not the smallest, either.” He touched her chin. “Hey, how about dinner one night?” He was humoring her. And he didn’t seem rattled, not one bit. His lean, handsome face didn’t hold a wrinkle; not a line of worry marred his smooth forehead. So she humored him back. “Sure. I’d like that.” “That’s my girl.” She wasn’t his girl. Not anymore. Something else occurred to her. “So why aren’t you running? Won’t they come back for you?” “If they come back for me this time I’m ready. I have lawyers on the case and I’m holding a meeting of the society later. I’m going to tell them what happened. They’ll never dare do anything like it again and it should start the debate properly. They won’t be able to hide their ambitions anymore. You’ll come.” It wasn’t a request. “Of course.” After all, she’d saved him. “And STORM definitely wants to force the registration of all Talents.” He gave her a look that clearly said “duh”. “You saw the evidence.” Papers that stated their support for the senators, declarations of intent. Yes, she’d seen them. But untypical doubts filled her today. Maybe that connection with Andros, 29
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seeing STORM as a very human institution and not a megalith, had sown the seeds of doubt in her mind. “Don’t tell them what I did. I did it on my own, nobody else knew.” “It makes you very special.” His voice warmed. He’d withdrawn his mental presence so she could only go on what she saw. And she saw danger. Not because it was there, but because it wasn’t. She’d put herself in his hands by accomplishing the rescue on her own. Only he knew, and now he could tell. Or he might decide she was best out of the way. She’d never come out, never revealed her true nature, so he could do that too. Why should she see danger here when before last night she’d thought of Harken only as doing good, helping people like her who wanted to remain hidden? She needed reminding, needed to put last night behind her and move on. “Wouldn’t STORM have let you go after they’d questioned you?” He shook his head. “They’d have read me, stripped my mind, and only then released me. You know how STORM works. The people there want to bring everyone into line, make all Talents reveal themselves. A fucking dictatorship. Why should they get away with it? Why shouldn’t everyone have a choice?” His expression turned grim, his mouth a straight, thin slash. “I wanted to get inside, to see what the layout was. It could be useful, so when they came for me, I let them take me. But as soon as I got into that room I knew what it was. An iso room. So one of theirs could strip my mind and read everything I am. Nobody should do that to another human being. Not without their permission. I couldn’t risk them doing that. You know that, Faye. I have too much to give, I hold too many secrets. Yours, for one.” A not so subtle reminder of what she’d realized for herself a moment before. “You should at least leave for a while.” He grimaced. “Yes, I know and I will, after today. I promise. I’ve applied for leave of absence to the dean, and I think he’ll be glad to see the back of me for a few moments. Just until they stop looking. Only you and a few others will know how to get hold of me. And don’t, not unless you need to. That dinner I mentioned—I thought I’d cook it for you, at my new place. Would you like that?” “Sure.” He was offering her a sop, and probably the consolation of a fuck afterward. Why hadn’t she noticed his arrogance before? She glanced at her watch. “I’m due in the main hall. They’re registering the postgrads today and I need to check on a couple of people.” She wanted to get away and it was all she could think of. “I thought you taught undergraduates?” “I do, but I’m thinking of using a couple of the post-grads as research assistants.” He shrugged. “Take care. And if anyone asks you any questions, let me know. If STORM contacts you, wants to interview you, don’t go in, let them come to you. If they take you in, don’t panic. You have nothing to hide. Get in touch with me as soon as you can. Clear?”
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Whatever his personality, Harken was doing good work, she told herself firmly. He helped people who didn’t want to come out, helped them to remain hidden. That was their right, surely. So she pushed her misgivings aside as a symptom of stress after yesterday. Grabbing her cell and a notebook, she came back around the desk. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” Before she left her office, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. A fierce, possessive kiss, the kind she’d have loved before yesterday. The kind she loved now, she told herself, but deep down she knew something had changed. It wasn’t true anymore. And she hated that it wasn’t but she couldn’t do anything about it. She left her office with him, but they said goodbye at the end of the hallway. He’d disappear after today, to one of his bolt-holes in the burbs. She had an email address and a cell number. Apart from that, she didn’t know where he went. But they’d connected at a deeper level so he could find her, as long as he didn’t go too far. Telepathy didn’t work long-distance. She had to support him and the work he was doing, helping Talents who didn’t want to come out. Congress was even discussing classifying shape-shifters as animals. Then scientists could experiment on Talents without compunction. Legally. Force them to subject themselves to painful, invasive procedures until mortals had extracted the essence that made Talents what they were. Not for them the long, painstaking research that might lead to a new, balanced outlook. Now they wanted blood, tissue, anything. And they preferred the live version. She couldn’t let that happen. Or the other alternative—that Talents separate themselves from other beings, that they live in communities of their own. Unbearable. Mortals had gifts too. They had to work together for the general good, even if that meant waiting longer. But mortals were essentially greedy and they wanted it now. Faye doubted that would ever happen. Turning a corner, she entered the hall. A large space, cavernous by day when only a few people were walking through, today it was packed. People milled around the tables set around the walls, talking to the people there to sign up and discuss the various courses open for registration today. The hubbub echoed around the usually quiet place, circling above their heads. Just by looking, she couldn’t distinguish Talent from mortal. Which was as it should be. If she opened the outer layer of her mind, she could tell. Talents had sigils, signs that identified their Talent and in some cases, their family or tribe. Their minds were ordered, revealing only what they wanted to reveal. Mortals were more confused, more varied, occasionally letting slip their deepest secrets, but for the most part nature had taken care of things and their inner lives remained just that—inner. She skimmed the crowd with her psi sense, her reactions almost automatic. A griffin in the form of an adolescent, her long limbs wrapped uncomfortably around her body. A vampire, her Talent latent except for her weak telepathy, her sigil
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demonstrating an undeveloped Talent. A truly young one, probably no older than she looked. And someone with his back to her, a young man leaning on a pair of crutches. The harsh lights sent glints of silver through his fair hair as he adjusted his stance so he could sign the admission form. That hair, so pale. She’d seen it before. Her mind stretched out, ready to withdraw. She sensed something familiar. A trace of a pattern she knew. She spun around ready to return the way she came but it was too late. His mind touched hers. He’d found her.
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Chapter Three A mind much stronger than she’d realized he owned locked on to hers. Because of that fatal moment the night before when she’d let him in, he used that, unerringly snaking his way through the tiny opening to gain access to a deeper level. She gasped, halted in her escape. Tried to organize her mind, stop him getting to her. Given an hour in a quiet place, she could seal the damage, but she hadn’t thought she’d needed to before now. Hadn’t imagined he’d find her. But he had her now, and as she struggled to close the revealing opening, he widened it, made it easier for him to track her. He picked her out like a magnet tracking a needle in a haystack. She couldn’t hide. All the way back to her office, she fought him, but she knew she wouldn’t win. So she made for her lair, where at least nobody would witness her downfall. She heard his arrival, that uneven hop and clunk of crutches approaching down the uncarpeted hallway. She’d left the door slightly ajar. He didn’t knock. He stared at her, ignoring the ankle bracelet that she’d retrieved from the drawer and put on the desk in front of her. “Cara?” He sounded cynical, jaded, no trace of the enthusiastic lover of last night remaining. His shoulders slumped so that his tall figure bent in a slouch, necessitated by the forearm crutches he used, and he seemed somehow smaller. But the eyes were the same, the bright blue burning into her irises. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I planned to get the anklet back to you, mail it or leave it at a drop and send you an email. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.” She met his gaze, trying to contact him, but he’d locked down his psi completely. A pang of pain shot through her. She couldn’t blame him for blocking her, but it hurt all the same. She indicated his crutches with an embarrassed, brief gesture. “Did they do that to you at STORM?” He’d obviously had the customized items for a while, and they’d been used well. Scratches and scuffs marred the matte black, and a few of the motifs had come loose. He glanced at the items with irritation. “No.” Before her astonished eyes, he straightened and pulled off the forearm cuffs, holding the crutches in one hand. He’d used them to deceive. Anger sparked deep within her. “It’s despicable to use disability as a means of getting to people.” She almost spat the words at him. His lids drooped over his eyes, giving them a sultry, shouldering appearance. “Not when you’re really disabled, it’s not. The disabled need every advantage they can get. I forget about the crutches, sometimes. God knows I spent enough years trying to do that.” He walked forward and propped the crutches against her desk. He must be able
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to balance them well, to do that with such a sure hand. That indicated he was familiar with using them. Perhaps he’d broken his leg sometime, something like that. He didn’t look at the crutches but at her. “The university knows me as a cripple.” She winced when he used the word and she knew he’d done it deliberately. To shock or provoke, to make her react. “It seemed like a good idea to keep the image consistent. I didn’t know what I’d find here. The university doesn’t know I’m Talented. Do they know about you?” She shook her head. “I don’t see what that has to do with the job I do here.” She frowned. “How come they know you as a—disabled person?” She couldn’t use the epithet he just had to describe himself. It was too cruel. His lip curled. “I hate those disguised words. It sounds better, puts me in a category. I am—was—a cripple. Not blind, not deaf, just unable to walk properly. Or use my limbs.” He clamped his lips together as if denying his words egress through them. Then he spoke again. “STORM doesn’t cripple its employees, ever. And no, I’m not an operative, but you know that from the blue anklet, don’t you? I’m what I told you I was—a geek. I do research. I told you that too. But you didn’t tell me what you did, did you? You didn’t even tell me your real name.” The sneer returned. “I always knew my character assessment wasn’t very good. You proved that spectacularly. You didn’t need to fuck me to get the ankle bracelet, though. You could have just drugged me. Are you a nympho, or is it the act of deception that makes you cream your pants?” The deliberate crudities made her flinch. “What’s wrong? Can’t face the truth? That’s what you did, after all.” Keeping her gaze snared in his, he moved around the table to stand before her. She had to fight hard not to give way and take a step back. In a low, intimate voice even more menacing than his usual tone, he added, “Come on, Cara—or can I use your real name now? Tell me the truth, Faye. Either way, I’m taking you in. You get to share in the trouble I’m in.” She shook her head. “I don’t want any of that.” “Pity. Because you’re coming in anyway.” Tension thrummed in the air, a palpable force. Harken had warned her to expect them to come for her, and she had no way of avoiding them taking her in. The only thing she could do was to block her mind from intrusions and keep blocking. At least she’d learned how to do that well. But if a Sorcerer examined her, she’d have no chance. But she’d try. Keep fighting. “Do you believe that all Talents should be outed?” He frowned in what looked like disbelief. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?” “Well, do you?” “Of course not. It should be their choice. Now answer my question.” “STORM wants to do that.”
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How dare he laugh? But he did, full-throated and genuine-sounding. “Who the fuck told you that?” Her lips firmed. How sad that he was so under STORM’s thumb. “I’ve seen memos, directives. You’re probably not high up enough to see them.” He raised a brow. “How would you know what level I’m at?” She indicated the ankle bracelet, lying until now disregarded on the table. “That does.” He snagged the bracelet and shoved it into his pocket. “Yeah. But I do research, sweetness. Security levels can be quite high for research staff. You’re misinformed again.” Although he didn’t move, his mind twitched and tugged at the hook he’d embedded deep in hers. But she blocked him around it. She still wouldn’t give him access to her inner thoughts. It took more effort than she thought, although he wasn’t pressing her for more. “Listen, Faye. You’re misinformed, to say the least. We’re close supporters of Senator Gianetti, and he wants the same freedoms for Talents as the rest of humanity enjoy. All we want is to contain Talents who break the law and to prevent illegal organizations from attacking and using Talents.” She stared at him and suddenly, shockingly, he opened his mind wider. She tumbled in, too astonished to back off, to wonder if he was trying to track her. He’d let her in deep enough to give her access to his truth center. She could tell if he was lying. “See anything wrong?” he asked. She couldn’t deny that he believed what he told her. And she felt sorry for him, sorry he’d let them draw him in. “They lied to you. They want the registration.” Even to her own ears, she sounded unsure. And his physical presence overwhelmed her. She breathed in his scent, wanted to tilt back her head and draw in a great, cleansing breath. He leaned closer. “Still don’t believe me? How about the truth in this?” She sensed his desire and she couldn’t do anything other than meet his lips when he curled one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. It felt scarily like coming home. Her mouth melded with his and need filled her. The kiss turned fierce, fueled by their tension and his presence in her mind. She pushed, he retained his hold and she couldn’t feel any effort in him. He brought one hand to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair, dislodging the clip. It fell with a click somewhere on the floor. Unheeding, she moved closer, pressed her body against his, felt his arousal pressing against the zipper of his jeans. This was truth. Need surged up, roared over her mind, her senses and her reason. She wanted him so badly. Nothing mattered other than him and this and now. Her mind dissolved when he plunged his tongue deeper, explored with a ferocity she met all too eagerly. He tasted good, his mouth firm, his tongue touching hers in a combination of anger and desire. Fuck, he turned her on like no one else.
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He dragged his mouth away from her and turned them, pushing her against her desk, urging her down. His hand went to the waistband of his jeans. “You and me, now. Agreed?” She nodded, beyond words, eating him up with her eyes. She needed this. But sense crept back into her mind, enough for her to say, “Drop the blinds.” Without looking, he reached behind him for the cord and released the blind to fall over the open window. He undid his pants, fumbling with the button. “Door?” She shook her head. “I can sense someone coming.” If he left her now, even to lock the door, she’d lose her nerve. She’d start to think. He jerked a nod. “Good enough.” He glanced down at her, taking in her supine body in one comprehensive sweep. “Get those off.” She shouldn’t feel such a thrill at his peremptory orders, she really shouldn’t. But his commands turned her on, made her juices flow. Hastily she undid her jeans and dragged them down, taking her panties with them. He finished the job for her, shoving them to below her knees so he could part her legs and enter her. She needed him in her. Desperation fed her mind. And she didn’t know why. Not that she was thinking straight right now. He groaned as his cock breached her pussy, echoing her moan of encouragement and cry of “Yes!” and he didn’t stop until he’d embedded himself fully. Her body opened gratefully to accept him. Wet and open as she was, he still had to shove twice to get deep inside. She gripped him as if afraid he’d pull out and leave. This couldn’t be happening, this madness that held them both in a spell she couldn’t resist. But it was. It was. As he rode her, she arched up so her ass cleared the surface of the desk. Their bodies met with a wet slap—the only sound in the quiet room apart from their gasps and moans. Neither spoke, except with their bodies. She was hungry, like a woman starved of sex, although she’d never missed it before after long fallow periods. As a civilized person, it had been part of her life, something that added a sweetener. Nothing else. Now she felt that she couldn’t live without it. She came with a keening cry, clutching his T-shirt, crumpling the soft cotton in her hands. They paused. Andros stared into her eyes, the link as intimate as anything she could ever remember. As intimate as their joined bodies. She’d never known what “seeing the soul in his eyes” meant before. She breathed his name. “Andros.” He bared his teeth, snapped like the dragon would. “Faye.” He thrust again and they returned to the whirlwind. He planted his hands on either side of her, the sweat on his palms making the shiny veneer squeak in protest. He grinned at her and drove harder, faster. And it still wasn’t enough. He filled her so completely that for once in her life she felt fulfilled, not alone. She pulled him down for a kiss, needing him filling her above and below. Andros growled into her mouth and her senses prickled, a wave spreading through her, pulsing through her body. This time she had the time to feel her orgasm grow, to
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savor the sensation. It swept through her and her lover sensed it, either saw it in her eyes or picked it up in the small amount of her mind that she allowed him to share. Because even now she wouldn’t open more for him. She cried out, hearing his cries in response, feeling him gush wetly inside her. Not caring who heard, who would come to discover them. At least for a minute. For half a minute. Then she quieted and listened. Andros’ breath came harsh in the sudden silence. “Do you think anyone heard?” he asked. She shook her head, her hair clinging to the desk with static where it touched. “Not today. They’re all in the hall or they’re out. Another day they’d have come running.” She didn’t want him to leave. He gazed down at where their bodies meshed, where his blond hair met her brown, and grinned. “Not what I had in mind when I came in here.” “Me neither,” she managed, her voice shakier than she liked. Some agent she’d make. She should have used the chance with him to gain a hold in his mind, to find something in him, as he had found in her, that meant she could locate him. Or tried to find out more about why he felt as he did, that STORM didn’t want the registration of Talents. Something. Instead she’d come apart under him, let him guide her to pleasure, and then succumbed to mindless sensation. He leaned over her to grab a handful of tissues from the box on her desk and held them to her pussy as he withdrew. Liquid left her body in a warm gush. She reached down to take the bundle from him, allowing him to zip up, grateful he’d thought of the results of their impetuous lovemaking. “Thanks for that. I don’t have a change of clothes here. I can get a shower though.” “Not without me.” She wiped herself and pulled up her underwear, trying to act insouciant. “You know what will happen if we share a shower.” He turned away, running a hand over his hair, flicking the heavy lock at the front behind one ear. It made him look almost boyish. How could she let a convert, barely into manhood, turn her inside out like this? How did he do it? “I know. You can always come back with me. I have an apartment at STORM.” “How did you manage that?” He shrugged. “They wanted me. You know how hard it is to get a decent place to live in the city. And besides—” He indicated the crutches with a careless wave of his hand. “At the time, they weren’t a prop.” “What was it, what did you have?” She knew she shouldn’t ask, but he wouldn’t tell her unless she made a point of it. “I had Becker’s. It’s a form of muscular dystrophy. Not as fast acting as Duchenne but the result’s the same. You live, you get progressively worse, you die. When I was converted it was pretty bad, it’d gotten worse fast. They helped me, gave me a place to
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stay and something else to think about. I don’t have the savings or the resources some shape-shifters do. I needed the job.” She wanted to give STORM some credit, try to believe what he was telling her or at least listen with an open heart. “Is that why you were converted? To save your life?” He shrugged. “No. I didn’t want it. It didn’t seem fair, somehow. I was on a waiting list, but I didn’t ask for any special privileges. But then it became inevitable. A mission went wrong and the person who converted me was left with a split-second decision.” By the way he turned away, she knew she wasn’t going to get any more today. She had to satisfy herself with that. But it explained a lot. Why he looked so young, younger than his age, even. Long-term illness would sometimes do that. And why she sensed a lack of confidence in him sometimes and a touch of awkwardness between him and his dragon. He was still getting used to the change. She turned abruptly and caught sight of herself in the small mirror in the corner of the room. Hair tousled, lips red from kisses, eyes still dilated in the aftermath of two devastating orgasms—shit, anybody seeing her now would know for sure what she’d been doing. She needed that shower. “There are showers here we can use.” “So you live in town too.” “No. There’s a facility upstairs. A small gym and showers. There shouldn’t be anyone about.” “You’ll be perfectly safe in my apartment.” He paused. “If that’s what you want.” She took a deep breath. The idea of sharing a shower with him, a long, hot shower in more ways than one—she pushed the thought away. Ideas like that weakened her resistance to him. Even now she felt him pushing, urging her to open more. But she wouldn’t. He’d seen enough, had enough. “I can’t. I have a meeting to attend in half an hour.” “Faculty?” “No.” She’d have to tell him. “The Fairness Society.” Andros heard her words with a sense of dull doom. In his research to discover her whereabouts he’d seen the name and done a little investigation. Of all the societies to attend, this wouldn’t be on his list of favorites. “Why the fuck are you going there? Don’t you want to hear me out?” Ostensibly the society was formed to protest compulsory registration for Talents. But in the quick search he’d done in STORM archives, he’d discovered disturbing stuff. The society was under observation for subversive activities. The report he saw didn’t detail the kind of subversion, but it was flagged and given a higher security setting. Although he had the clearance, Andros hadn’t had the time to investigate further. But the fact that it was flagged meant it was an ongoing investigation.
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With any luck, he’d meet an agent there. Because one thing was for sure—for the foreseeable future, where she went, so did he. He wanted answers. Why had she stolen his ankle bracelet? Just getting it back wasn’t enough. She put up her chin defiantly. “I promised I’d go. Harken Nordheim is speaking.” She stared at him as if she expected a reaction. Did she think he knew the name? He’d have to disappoint her because it didn’t ring any bells. Maybe if he’d taken more time and clicked on the link at STORM, he’d have seen the name. Too late now. She wouldn’t wait for him to establish a secure connection and get there. “You should listen to what he’s going to say. You might learn something.” He was going, though not to be converted. “I’m willing to listen.” He glanced in the mirror, smoothed his hair into some semblance of order. Thank fuck for tousled hairstyles. Although hers was probably too tousled even for that. He grinned. He’d helped to cause that. “Lead me to the showers, then.” The showers were utilitarian but serviceable, the water hot enough. They took a swift shower, sadly not together, and he kept his mind firmly locked to the gap he’d found in hers, the gap he’d created when they’d made love for the first time. No, fucked. They’d fucked. Only he’d thought of it as making love—she obviously hadn’t. Doing it this time hadn’t confirmed anything for him though, except that she could prove addictive. He wanted her again and he couldn’t see it ending anytime soon. Not that he saw any future in this. Not if she insisted on believing that the agents at STORM were scum. He shut off the trickle of water when it turned lukewarm and grabbed the towel, rubbing it vigorously over his body, for all the good that did him. The fabric soaked through fast and he wished he’d taken another. University-provided towels were worse than he remembered. Not that he’d attended this establishment for long. But the university, keen to have him come back, had given him the opportunity of doing his doctoral research here. However this mission turned out, he intended to take it. Today he’d assured them that his MD had stabilized, that the move from the West Coast had just upset him for a time. Eventually he’d come clean, but since his disability had nothing to do with his research and he intended to refuse any privileges they offered him to help with his condition, he felt no need to fess up yet. Because at the moment, with the Fairness Society in view, his crutches would prove an asset. He could go to this meeting and nobody would suspect he was Talented. Then he received a telepathic message from someone he knew well. Get out here, I need to talk to you. What was Johann doing here? It didn’t take Andros long to dress, even though his jeans and T-shirt snagged on his still-damp body. He’d be sure to take a decent shower when he got home. He exited the showers, crutches in hand, to find his brother-in-law waiting just outside. Faye couldn’t get out without passing him. This was the only exit, apart from a fire door that
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would scream its objections if she tried to get out that way. But just in case, he kept his mind linked with hers. “Hey, kid.” From most people he’d hate the moniker, but from his brother-in-law he could take it. Big, bad Johann Kovacs leaned against the wall, his broad shoulders propped against it, at ease. Andros grinned. “Hey. Are you here for a reason?” “You hear what went down last night?” Andros shrugged. “Some fuss, but nobody asked me so I came here to register.” His heart sank. The game was up and the fuss at STORM did involve his missing ankle bracelet, after all. At least he had it back in his possession now. “Right.” Johann ran his hand through his hair, ruffling the dark curls. It didn’t make him any less dangerous-looking. “They might want you on board. Someone broke in and freed the professor.” “That a street name or something?” “Nope. He really is a professor. Professor Harken Nordheim, to be precise. He’s been causing big trouble.” Johann raised a brow and Andros understood. He didn’t want to talk here. But vampires had telepathy during the day, the only power to survive the onset of the sun. You want to talk like this? He felt a stirring in his mind. Faye was dressing. She wouldn’t be long. He checked his watch. “No time, bro. I’m going to the Fairness Society meeting with Faye.” Johann didn’t ask him who Faye was, which probably meant he knew already. “Okay.” But be warned. Whatever he says, we’re taking him in. There could be trouble so stay clear. Look after Faye and get her back to STORM. That’s your job, and kid, if you were wondering, you are now definitely part of this operation. Shit, so it was all about this Nordheim man. “Okay. I’ll see you back there.” If he knows we’re coming he’ll be out of that place, so don’t rile him. Did you know Nordheim from before? What does he teach? American history. Andros laughed. Do I look like a history student? Johann had the grace to grin. Do I look like a World War One soldier? Andros saluted him and Johann saluted back, his much better than Andros’ amateur gesture. Point. No, computer science. I thought I’d revive my studies now I’ve got a handle on the whole dragon thing and if I leave it much later to enroll, I’ll pass the deadline. Sounds like a good idea. And Ann, is she angry?
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Let me see. Somebody steals an ankle bracelet, enters the building, frees a prisoner and they both get the hell out. Angry is an understatement, bro. Livid is closer. Incandescent, maybe. Oh fuck. He should have known better, to think nobody had worked out whose security bracelet Faye had used. Because it had to be her. She’d wanted that bracelet to get Nordheim out and she’d done it. Which meant one of two things. Either Faye was much more formidable than he’d imagined, or…no, it couldn’t be that. Either way, when he got back there’d be hell to pay. She must be furious, to get a vampire out in the daytime. Johann raised a brow. Trained agent here. I can look after myself. Looking at Johann’s brawny frame, Andros didn’t doubt that for a minute. He’d seen the vampire in action and he was formidable enough in the daytime. Some vampires kept to night shifts since most of their powers only emerged at sundown, and melted away with the dawn. Johann didn’t give a shit. He had other talents to make up for his lack of Talent during the day. Andros felt her approach. Faye’s coming. Do you want to meet her? Not yet. “See you.” “Yeah.” I’ve got your back, kid. Andros wasn’t sure if that was entirely a good thing in the circumstances. But if this was a mission, he’d better do what he was told. Look after Faye and get her back to STORM after the meeting. She was complicit in Nordheim’s escape. He still wasn’t sure what STORM wanted the professor for, but that they wanted him was enough for now. When she exited the showers, he was alone. He flashed a grin. “Thanks. I didn’t want to have to come after you.” She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’ve decided to come to the meeting.” Andros avoided her gaze, pulled his watch out of his pocket and strapped it on, glancing at the time as he did so. “We’d better go. Is this an exploratory meeting, the kind clubs have at the beginning of term that lets nonmembers come in for free?” “Sort of.” She tugged at the sleeve of her pullover. As yet the days were still mild, but perhaps she felt the cold. Or maybe he’d marked her T-shirt and she was using it as a cover-up. Whatever, that color suited her. A mid-green, like a shamrock. Brought out the red glints in her silky hair. He still wanted to wrap the swath around his wrist and use it to drag her close for a kiss. He must be going insane. Instead, he snagged his crutches and shoved his forearms into the cuffs. The action had been so familiar until relatively recently. A few months since his conversion, that was all. It still came naturally to take the stance, making sure he balanced his body properly between the supports, avoiding any strain on his back. “Shall we go?”
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The Fairness Society met in one of the smaller lecture halls. Andros wasn’t familiar with this building—the center of the humanities faculty and the Victorian edifice he’d recognized from the fleeting mental image Faye had unwittingly sent him in that crappy hotel room—but one lecture room was very much like another. The covered sockets on the floor, the chairs with the attached elbow desk, the central lectern and the whiteboard standing to one side all gave him a sense of security he knew was an illusion today. Talents abounded at this meeting but Andros sensed humans too. Nice of them to support the cause, even if they were wrong. They weren’t to know that. As they stood just inside the entrance a tall, handsome man with touches of gray at his temples approached them. From the stir around him, Andros guessed he was Nordheim. He met his gaze. The tall, strong mortal stared him down and Andros learned something else. This man was arrogant to the extreme and accepted adulation as his due. Had STORM turned him down once, to give him an excuse to spread so many lies? Or maybe he wanted to set himself up in opposition, parlay himself a political position. Andros quirked a brow at Faye. Hint, hint. She took it. “Andros, this is Professor Nordheim.” Andros nodded and smiled. Although he felt disinclined to take the man’s proffered hand, he managed it. Nordheim indicated his crutches. “You’re not a Talent?” The guy sent a probe into his mind, none too subtly, and Andros, a little more subtly, showed him only what he wanted to—a seeming jumble of emotions and reactions, like a picture made of words and images with no form. Johann had helped him create the illusion a while back, said it might come in useful if he went out into the field. Was Johann ever right about that. He shrugged. “As you can see. Faye suggested I come with her.” Nordheim glanced at Faye then back at Andros, and his supercilious expression said it all. Eyes half closed, a curl to his lips, everything asked her what she was doing with this loser. Andros wondered the same, but he didn’t refer to himself. “Hope you enjoy the talk. Although I’d guess you have enough on your plate without adding another campaign.” “Talents are like me, on the edge of society, marginalized,” Andros said. “I want to see if I can pick up any tips. Maybe an ally or two.” Nordheim raised a brow. “You might.” Though he looked at Andros as if he was a worm, something inferior. In Andros’ experience, Talents didn’t behave like that, but he supposed there had to be a few bad apples. Maybe more than a few. At any rate, he disliked this guy. And although he couldn’t send out his psi for fear of losing hold on his cover, everything about this man raised his hackles, told Andros that Nordheim would bat him aside as if he were a fly. Because the other thing he noticed was Nordheim wanted Faye. It was clear in his proprietary glances at her, in the way the man broadened his stance in an attempt to block Andros’ proximity to her while also invading her space. 42
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Once Nordheim moved away, Andros could relax a little, let at least his telepathy free. He needed to, in case Johann contacted him. But if he stayed in the mass of Talents here, no one should be able to identify the telepathic signal as his. Nordheim gave him a thin-lipped nod and strolled in the direction of the lecturer’s table. People moved aside or exchanged a word with him, tried to attract his attention, but he kept moving until he reached the table. The professor planted his hands and leaned forward as the crowd fell silent. Andros felt his presence, identified it and opened his psi, careful not to draw attention to himself. He felt Johann’s presence nearby. He hadn’t seen the vampire as he entered, but that wasn’t surprising given the press in this room and Johann’s ability to merge with others when he wanted to. Johann didn’t say anything but kept his presence steady. “Last night I was in the STORM building,” Nordheim began. “And it wasn’t from choice.” A few gasps came in response. “I was arrested and taken in for questioning. It seems that STORM doesn’t like my revealing certain truths, things they’d rather keep hidden.” Andros thought of some of the secrets he’d worked on since he started with STORM. Yeah, that was true, as far as it went. But revealing those truths could hurt people. There was always a good reason, as far as he’d seen, and he’d seen plenty. STORM had saved his life, and Johann personally had saved his sister’s life and then promised to love, honor and obey her for the rest of his life. Nordheim scanned the crowd, especially the people at the front. His own personal mosh pit, Andros guessed. A man as arrogant as that would cultivate acolytes. “They stripped my mind, or rather, they started the process. They sent one of their Sorcerers.” A grin twisted the corner of his mouth. “But I have my own tricks. I resisted.” He got a smattering of applause for that. “I got out.” More applause. “It wasn’t easy.” Andros’ lips thinned. It would have been a fuck of a lot harder without Faye and what she did for this bastard. Even if she’d asked him to keep quiet, he shouldn’t take the credit for something he hadn’t done. Maybe said someone had helped him, something like that. The denial stuck in his craw. “They want to stop me and people like me taking the fight to Congress. They’d like the law put through nice and easy. The law that says that shape-shifters should be treated like the animals they are.” Big applause there. Andros felt Johann’s disgust, then the vampire sent him a few words. You have me, Serena Duval, a Sorcerer, and Ricardo Gianetti here. Nick Ivy is standing by to fly him out. We’ll take care of Nordheim. We won’t take him here, where his Talented worshippers will start a fight, we’ll do it afterward. You concentrate on the woman and call us if you need help. Clear? Andros didn’t like Faye being referred to as “the woman” but he’d take it up with Johann later. Clear. It was quite the team. Ricardo the shape-shifter. Johann, who had a deeper connection with Andros. Serena, one of the most awesome Sorcerers he knew, and Nick
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Ivy, the roc he’d met on the roof. Now he wondered if that meeting had been entirely coincidental. No, paranoia lurked that way. But just because you thought they were watching you didn’t mean you weren’t right. Maybe Nick had been waiting, if not for him, then for someone else. Maybe he should have found Faye that night. The thought sent a shot of pure anger through him. Tough luck, Nick. Because he wasn’t getting near her now. After a bit more rabble-rousing, Nordheim left the meeting with an exhortation for the new Talents to join up. “I won’t ask you what you are, or even if you’re a Talent at all. Unlike some people. The movement is open to all and we invite you to join us. To fight for justice for man and Talent alike!” Great huge cheers. Andros was forced to applaud or face the wrath of the audience, but every clap stung him. This secret agent thing sucked. Living a lie must really get to a person after a while. He leaned forward on the crutch supports and gave Faye his best bland smile for the benefit of the people listening. “Do you want a coffee?” Two assurances of “Sure,” followed. One he expected, one he hoped for. And got. Fuck, how had Nordheim arrived so fast? He’d hoped to get clear before most people had left then whisk her away to STORM. He led, and once people saw them, they moved out of the way, before either his disability or Nordheim’s awesomeness. Once out of the crowded classroom, he let the professor lead, preferring to keep him in his sights. He concentrated on following Nordheim, who forced his way past to lead them, and sped up some. He took them to the main cafeteria on the first floor, Andros noted with a sinking heart. He’d hoped for someplace a little less crowded. It was almost a relief to see the dark figure of Johann walking with them as if he were another customer heading for the self-service beverages section. Johann moved ahead. There were fewer Talents around now. Andros slowed and let some people move in front of him. He could keep back and then lead Faye away. Then Johann laid a hand on Nordheim’s arm and leaned in, murmuring something in his ear. Probably a variation on, “Come with me and keep it quiet.” Nordheim didn’t move a muscle. Not a twitch. A female voice said from behind him, “Are you ready to go now? I’ve called a cab for you.” He recognized the voice. Serena Duval, crisp and efficient. He was more than ready to go. He sighed, maintaining his cover. “Just tell us where it’ll be waiting.” The crowd pressed in, not giving him room anymore and he began to feel uneasy. Nothing he could define, just a general sense of not-quite-right. Serena instructed them, “Forward, fast, then to your right. Move!” Andros put his crutches into action and swung forward. He ruthlessly connected with legs, forcing people out of the way. Son of a bitch, he’d have to dump the crutches. He really didn’t want to do that, not this soon. He didn’t want people to know and if
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this mission turned nasty he wanted an advantage. Apart from the ability to turn into a fifteen-foot dragon, of course. People massed before them. He recognized some from the meeting. They’re stopping us moving forward. Johann is with him though, and we have people waiting outside. Chill, Serena said. Sure. Relieved, he touched Faye’s arm. She glanced at him and smiled. “Shall we give the coffee a miss?” he asked lightly. “Sure. You want to come to my place for a coffee instead?” “Come to mine.” His place being STORM. “Love to.” She said the words flatly. She still didn’t trust him. A commotion in the crowd before him drew his attention. Cries of “You’re not taking him!” and “Get out of our lives!” echoed off the walls. Shit. Nordheim’s acolytes had got there too, and now they’d have the battle the STORM agents wanted to avoid. The crowd milled through the open double doors to their right, which led to an open space, one of the green areas between buildings. If they hadn’t followed, they might have been trampled. They had no choice, but Andros fought against the people sweeping him and Faye ahead. He braced his crutches, widened them and planted them firmly in the grass. Handy that he didn’t need them to walk anymore, but he’d always known about their value as weapons. He wouldn’t hesitate to use them if anyone tried to push him and Faye any farther forward. Serena dodged around him and ran. Blocking out the cacophony, Andros concentrated on contacting Johann, just checking that the vampire was okay. He couldn’t find him. Johann was either unconscious or—he was unconscious. Had to be, or Andros could have sensed him. But he’d had his orders and they weren’t open to interpretation. The area was thronged with people milling around the central spot where, presumably, Nordheim was taking his stand. Keeping a hold on Faye’s arm, Andros made his way across the back of the grassy area, toward the doors that led to the building exit. Before he got there, several screams heralded a new development. A great bronze bird spread his wings and issued a warning. Not a telepathic one but a great screech, issued from its huge, wickedly hooked beak. The roc must be around full size, a magnificent sight, awe-inspiring. Nick Ivy was a bear of a man, but that only reflected the huge mass of his other form. Behind him, a dragon burst into life. As massive as the roc, it grew even larger before it took to the air and hovered, providing protection for his colleague. Ricardo Gianetti, badass agent and sensitive artist. Right now the artist was probably not in the forefront of his mind.
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Nick had something strapped on his back and Andros was guessing it was Johann. His heart in his mouth, he watched the roc take off. He risked opening his mind in this chaos, had to know. Is he okay? Johann Kovacs, how is he? He didn’t get a reply. Other Talents exploded into form. Nordheim’s followers, prepared to fight for their leader. The last thing the STORM Talents wanted was a battle with their own kind. Most of these Talents were misguided, nothing else. They didn’t deserve to get hurt in the service of someone who was misleading them. The roc lifted, flew up, the dragon following, providing an escort. The Sorcerer spoke. Get her out of here. Now. Then he felt it, like a sweeping wave, and he knew what was happening. Serena had thrown a psychic net over the crowd, snared them so the flying Talents couldn’t follow the STORM agents and the Sorcerers couldn’t fight back. Serena was trained and very strong, the reason STORM had employed her in the first place. He turned to Faye. “Come on. We’re getting a cab.” No more psi until they got to STORM. He needed the rest.
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Chapter Four Back at STORM, Faye preceded Andros through the doors to be greeted by the receptionist, a glossy, superbly groomed professional—a non-Talent whose eyes warmed when she rested her gaze on Andros. But Faye felt the presence of Talents here like nowhere else she’d ever visited. Not like before, during her clandestine visit. That had been in the early hours, so most people wouldn’t be here. Now she felt a tingle in the air, a humming atmosphere. With a shock, she realized that it felt right. Like coming home. She’d deliberately spent time away from Talents recently, trying to cope with the changes in the world, deciding what she wanted to do, and the sense of them welcomed her, ushered her in. Dangerously seductive. Like the man standing next to her. The receptionist looked at her, her eyes now cold, her face so carefully made up Faye wondered if she’d had parts of it tattooed on. “Andros? Ms. Reynolds asked me to tell you to go straight up to conference room three. Could you take your guest with you?” Andros gave the woman a grin Faye wasn’t sure the icy female deserved. Oh shit, what was she, jealous? “Sure.” Andros led the way to the elevators then glanced at his crutches. “I don’t need them here.” When the car arrived, he took them in one hand and strode into the elevator. “All this because I wanted my ankle bracelet back.” He glanced at her. She’d remained silent on the way back and Andros hadn’t seemed to notice. Now he did, but he shrugged. “Talk or don’t, as you please. My brother-in-law is in trouble, maybe dying.” “He’s your brother-in-law? I felt his presence, so I know he’s a Talent. Why didn’t he do something?” “Because he’s a vampire. Johann can’t turn until after sundown and that’s hours away yet. They have to keep him alive until then.” His mouth flattened. Shock arced through her. Please God, keep him alive. She couldn’t bear to be the cause of the death of a Talent, even indirectly, and that Andros cared for him made it much worse somehow. She followed Andros along a green-carpeted hallway to a brightly illuminated room with fittings a lot more upmarket than the lecture hall Harken had used. A large glass table with a few chairs set around it dominated the space. The furniture screamed style. The people in the room glanced up when they entered and she opened her mind enough to read their Talents and let them read her sigil. Although she’d spent time away from Talented society, she still remembered her manners. Andros’ first words when he entered the conference room were about Johann the vampire. “How is he? Has someone contacted Ania?” “Didn’t you?” She recognized the cool blonde from her voice. The Sorcerer who’d stood behind them. Tall, with ice-blue eyes and frosty-blonde hair tied back in a tight 47
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ponytail, immaculately dressed in a slim unstructured gray and black dress with a black jacket and long, glossy legs crossed under the glass table. The décor suited her. All ice. If this Sorcerer wasn’t a virgin, Faye would give up flying for a month. The Sorcerer gave her an icy stare. “They sent me in to get you out. I didn’t know the cost, then.” She’d even got to STORM before they had. Maybe another Talent, or maybe she hadn’t sat in traffic on Madison for ten minutes as they had. In uncomfortable silence. Faye’s attention shifted to the spokesperson and commander of STORM. She knew Ann Reynolds from TV. She took a breath. This was a smallish conference room but she dominated it, this well-built, middle-aged mortal, dressed in a dark amethyst power suit. She wasn’t even standing, or sitting at the head of the table. Other leaders might need pomp and circumstance to bolster them. Not Ann Reynolds. She ran STORM with a firm hand that nobody ever questioned, or so all the news agencies and documentarymakers claimed. Faye had wondered how before. Now she didn’t. The woman had a presence such as she’d never come across, not in Talents or anyone else. Charisma, pure and undiluted. She gave Andros a reassuring smile. “He’ll be okay. Ania’s on her way to the hospital.” Andros let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” Ms. Reynolds lost the smile and glared at him. “No thanks to you, or the team I sent in. I wanted a professional group of Talents, not a group of bumbling clowns. And what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own to get that anklet back? Haven’t we trained you well enough? Or maybe the people I entrusted with your training did a bad job?” Not Faye’s best introduction to STORM. Ann spared her a glance and a short nod, then indicated the spare seats at the table, side by side. Andros and Faye took them without a word. Ann introduced the other people in the room to Faye. Andros seemed to know them already. “Serena Duval, Sorcerer. Nick Ivy, roc.” She’d never met a roc before Nic. Now she’d seen him, she didn’t doubt the legends, ancient and new about the great bird that was said to have transported Sinbad. A powerful, huge birdlike creature that could take an elephant in its claws. This one looked as if he could do it without shape-shifting. He filled the chair he occupied and then some, his legs set apart and braced for balance. His broad shoulders were showcased by his loose black polo shirt, muscles rippling under the thin fabric when he shifted restlessly. The two Talents gave Faye brief, unsmiling nods. She responded in kind, meeting the gaze of the man she’d seen briefly on the roof last night. “Do you have the professor?” Andros asked. “No. He got away.” Ann Reynolds paused, grimaced. “He stabbed Johann and left. He had a knife in his pocket. If Johann didn’t have good reflexes, he’d be dead by now. After dark he’ll be fine. But he’s off this mission.” “What mission, Ms. Reynolds?” she asked sharply before she could censor herself. As far as she knew, she’d freed a man who just wanted Talents to claim their rights.
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Ann’s gaze went to Faye, accusation burning in her cold stare. “It’s Ann in this room. You’ve caused us complications. You stole Andros’ ankle bracelet to get the professor free. Could you tell us why you did that?” Courteously phrased but impatiently delivered. Faye tensed and just for a moment she felt Andros’ mind in hers, touching her with sympathy. Before she could respond, he disappeared. He couldn’t help her now. Because the Sorcerer’s senses were open, pressing on her. She’d spot any lie in a heartbeat, more reliable than any polygraph. Eyes burning with purpose, Faye remembered what Harken had told her. She didn’t entirely believe it, not after Andros had assured her things weren’t like that, but she couldn’t entirely discard it. Harken had a tremendous sense of purpose. “The professor leads a movement of Talents. We don’t see that we have to reveal ourselves, as the law wants. And as STORM wants, or so he told me. He helps people escape their unveiling, that registration they want to make law. And if the law changes, we’ll defy it. I still believe that.” Ann huffed, a small sound of disgust. “I’ve heard of these groups. You really want to go outside the law?” Faye put up her chin and glared back. “If necessary. Talents have rights too.” Ann’s lips curved in a smile. “So will we, if we have to. That’s why we’ve never allowed STORM to be part of any government association, here or anywhere else in the world. Did you really think we’d support such a draconian measure?” Faye heard her, listened numbly as everything started to fall into place. Not that she’d believe it without a lot of proof. Ann continued. “Harken Nordheim has a huge presence. We’re fairly sure he’s a Sorcerer, although he prefers to remain hidden. He uses his powers to compel, something the Talented community has always banned. He probably set a compulsion in your mind so you believed him easily. But something has changed that. Hasn’t it?” Faye couldn’t meet Ann’s eyes. It sounded right and hit her with the certainty of truth, although that could just be persuasion. But Harken could have planted a compulsion in her. She’d put down a lot of his charm to charisma, but now she was in the presence of true mortal charisma, in the person of Ann Reynolds, she detected a difference. Something subtle, maybe a difference in the pattern, the underlying rhythm. She had to think. Had to keep calm and work this through. Ann pushed a file across the table to Faye, then turned to Andros and heaved a sigh. “You nearly wrecked everything, Andros, going off on your own like that. If I’d known she’d target you, I’d have kept you back that night. Didn’t you recognize the Talents on the roof?” Andros sighed. “Yes, some. I just thought you had more operatives than usual in town.” Ann tsked. “I thought it probable that one of Nordheim’s pet Talents would try to get him back. We just made it a bit easier for them.” 49
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Faye groaned and buried her head in her hands. She’d been used. They’d let her rescue Nordheim, set her up to take him out. “I should have known. It was far too easy to break in.” “Not that easy,” Ann said. “I have to say you did well, and efficiently too. Have you had any training in the past?” Faye shook her head. “No, not proper training.” She groaned again. “I can’t believe this is happening.” “Believe it.” Ann’s lips curved into a hard smile. “But don’t beat yourself up too much. Either you help us or we’ll hold you until the operation’s done. And you won’t escape.” “I believe you.” She lifted her head, determinedly blinking away her unshed tears. “But I don’t understand your role in all this. He stands for what you stand for, or so you claim. Why would you want to stop him? He showed us things, papers, that showed that STORM wanted the exposure of Talents. Can you prove you don’t want that?” Ann shrugged. “Multiple times.” “Why would we want that?” Andros sounded puzzled rather than angry, as he had every right to be. “So they could show their strength, demonstrate their power. STORM wants to control Talents. That’s what he said, what the papers said,” she insisted. Ann regarded her coolly, her previous anger with her team gone or shelved for now. “Not precisely. We’re here for the protection and support of Talents, as we always have been. Not for their aggrandizement. We hold no political views, only advocate the best interests of the people we serve.” Faye had heard Ann say that before to the media and she’d thought it just a meaningless policy statement. But hearing it in this room, spoken with such calm certainty, she began to wonder if she’d been wrong. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I just don’t. And I can’t help you until I’m sure. I won’t make a mistake again, and I want proof that you’re telling me the truth. All I know is that you sent agents out to feed me a security clearance that night so that I could rescue Harken. I don’t know why.” Ann gave a grim smile. “That’s better. Believe what you see, what you feel. For a start, if you try to break someone out of a high-security establishment and it all goes very, very well, don’t assume it’s your excellence. It might be, but then again, it might not. And if you want to think about world domination, don’t assume it’s Talents who want it.” The blonde spoke. “Nordheim’s a Sorcerer, I’m sure of it. I had little contact with him before he closed down on me, but I got that much.” “Did he interfere with Faye’s mind?” Ann demanded. Serena lifted her hand in a graceful gesture, pushing a wisp of hair back from her forehead. An elaborate jeweled watch glinted on her wrist, so unlike the rest of her
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plain, ordered clothes that Faye noticed it immediately. Distracted, she dragged herself back to the present. “I can’t detect any, though I would like to examine her in an iso room just to make sure.” Sorcerers lived mortal lifespans but had staggering, off-the-scale psi senses. Harken could have done it, spread a compulsion in her to believe him and disbelieve anyone else. It would have changed her mind, made it easier for him to control her. And the rest of his followers, Faye realized. Her stomach dipped, nausea making its presence felt. “No,” Andros said at once. “She’s been through too much. I’ll vouch for her. She’ll stay with me while she’s in the building, won’t go anywhere without me.” Andros ignored Nick’s grunt of disapproval and kept his attention focused on his boss. She jerked a nod. “That’s acceptable. Your reputation depends on hers. And she doesn’t have your security clearance.” Ann motioned to the Sorcerer, who passed her the coffeepot from the other end of the table. Ann had already finished the contents of the pot set at her end. She poured herself another coffee and glanced around to see if anyone wanted any. Nobody did. If Faye drank that amount of coffee all the time, she’d be a complete nervous wreck. “Nordheim played on you, told you what you were most likely to believe.” Ann poured herself a cupful of the thick, strong brew. “He reinforced your natural inclinations. Skillfully. While he might not have planted compulsions, he would only have to persuade.” “Like a stage magician pretending to mind read,” she said numbly. “The same kind of tricks, reinforced with telepathy,” Ann agreed. So cold-blooded. But now she thought about it, really thought, Faye knew it was possible. She’d spent long hours with Harken, discussing the state of the world. He could have nudged her thinking in a certain direction, helped her to believe what her natural inclinations led her to. And he’d held an attraction for her too. She’d let him in, let down her guard. Sitting across the table from them, Ann nodded. “If you want to work with us, that’s acceptable for now. I’d prefer it if you had a proper scan, as all agents do, and let Serena read you thoroughly. Let me know when you’re ready for that. If you are prepared to keep quiet but don’t want to work with us, you can leave now, after you’ve allowed Serena to set up a block to you telling anyone. We won’t track you. Just don’t feel stupid. It could have happened to any of us. Once a Sorcerer of that power has his claws into you, nobody can resist for long.” Her mouth flattened. “I think he’s even more dangerous than we assumed. We need to get him back.” Before she could censor herself, Faye made her protest. “You won’t hurt him?” She recalled the sickening thud when she’d struck Serena and the blow she’d landed on the security guard. Even if they were set up to provide false resistance, she’d still hurt them and she didn’t want to cause anyone any pain. 51
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“I can’t promise that.” Ann glanced at a slim folder in front of her and pushed it across the table. “He’s hurt far more people than you know.” She took a deep breath, the single gold chain she wore around her neck glittering in the harsh light. “Know that if you read the contents of this file and refuse to help us, we’ll detain you until the mission is complete or ask you to undergo a procedure with Serena that will prevent you talking about what you’re about to see. This file contains the reasons why we wanted him.” Faye had to know. “Okay, I’ll read them. I agree to your terms.” Ann sighed. “Professor Nordheim used his Sorcerer skills and his cover as a protector of the rights of Talents to take them to illegal laboratories. He found easy pickings at the university and spread his activities outward. We think there are more people involved in his activities and we want them too, which is why we wanted him to get away, hoping he’d go straight to them. We’ve sent a unit to take the people who were with him today, so the mission may well be over. Read and believe.” There was good money in the illegal laboratories. Hidden all over the world, their agents took Talents and cut them up, dissected them. All to gain valuable assets—the power to heal, longevity, the ability to transform into something far more powerful and terrifying than their human form. Selling cures for cancer or muscular dystrophy, selling the elixir of life, selling the added strength and power of a shape-shifter, all had the potential of making vast profits. So far none had worked, though the labs had produced terrifying hybrids in their attempts to mold the different types of human together. There shouldn’t be hybrids. People were either Talents or they weren’t. No in-betweens. But until they found their cures, the labs made money by forcing Talents to convert others. Numbly, Faye opened the folder and read. After the first few pages she realized there were no doubts. This was truth. Harken, a man she’d considered her friend and ally, had put Talents there. For money. She couldn’t deny the evidence she saw and she doubted anyone would manufacture such a plethora of reports from the different government agencies just to fool her. Or that they could. She picked up an FBI document showing the discovery of an illegal laboratory in the Nevada desert, with accompanying photographs. Faye forced herself to look at the dreadful pictures of dead bodies and tortured Talents, wires and tubes coming out of them, their limbs and bodies half dissected, not allowed to change and to heal. She stared into the eyes of a shape-shifter, his head and upper body still human, his lower body that of a horse. A pegasus. So rare, and these people were taking him apart. Horrible. But Faye forced herself to study every one. Because she was partly responsible for this. She’d enabled him, supported Harken while he plied his dreadful trade. If he stayed at liberty because of her actions, she’d never forgive herself. Never. The next picture showed someone she knew. She’d helped this boy escape an intolerable situation in New York. When he’d come into his Talent at puberty, his
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parents had abandoned him. Packed up and moved. Until that moment he’d thought he was their son but they’d adopted him, not knowing what he was. On his own, he’d shape-shifted in public and nearly lost his life when a crowd had mobbed him. Confused, he’d staggered about the streets and eventually settled as a beggar, terrified when he shape-shifted every month. Faye had discovered him and spirited him to what she thought was safety with the help of Professor Nordheim, who’d promised to ensure the boy reached safety. Friends in San Francisco, he’d said. Only she had to see this now. Tears sprang to her eyes. Before this she had kept her composure, but the sight of what they had done to this boy forced her into realization, facing the horror she’d helped to cause. The boy had no life, none at all, and she’d help to achieve it. But she had to be sure. “You have proof that the professor is involved.” Her voice shook. She couldn’t believe it, her mind chasing to catch up with the evidence before her eyes. Andros covered her hand with his. She unclenched her fist and let it lie passively, encompassed by his warmth. His sympathy gave her some comfort, but not much. “Yes, of course you do. I’m sorry, I’m finding all this difficult.” The only sound in the room came when she turned pages. She read it all, uncaring whether she kept them waiting or not. Looked at every picture, every horrific scene. Then she saw the surveillance photographs of Professor Nordheim. She had to consider the possibility that the photos and files were faked. It would have taken a lot of work, and for what purpose? For what reason? To fool her? She didn’t think so. All they had to do was capture her, restrain her until they’d taken the professor off the map as they said they’d do now. Much easier than this. Especially considering her limited abilities in the espionage arena. She slumped, her head between her hands, willing the tears back. “I’m sorry.” Ann’s voice dropped into the still room. “He’s fooled a lot of people. He spreads disinformation and he only captures the Talents who won’t be missed right away. He has helped a couple, but only to maintain his cover.” “I should have killed the fucker,” Nick Ivy said. Nobody disagreed. Ann continued, relentlessly exposing Harken Nordheim. “If Talents are classed as nonhuman, the next step is to class them as animals. Then the laboratories can take any they please. Harken’s efforts are all show, noise without substance. It’s a cover.” “It’s nonsense, that animal thing. It’ll never happen.” Andros’ dismissal showed, for once, his extreme youth as a Talent. It happened, and had for a long time. Faye said what needed to be said. “Banning alcohol was nonsense. So was allowing mortals to enslave each other. All we need to do is not to do anything. Just let them do it, smiling our disbelief.” Like she’d done. Andros grunted. “In any case, someone has to stop this lowlife. I’m in.” “Yes. Me too,” Faye said.
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Ann nodded and Faye suspected she’d expected nothing less. Somehow it came as comfort to her wounded soul, that Ann had expected her to do the right thing, to help redress the wrong she’d made, however unwittingly. “We’ve had people in place at the university for months. None of them got as close as you did to Professor Nordheim, Faye. You have the perfect cover. Andros, I’m sending you back in with Faye to discover the rest, if there is any rest to discover. But I want this nest of vipers cleaned out, completely gone. I want Nordheim back and then, hopefully, that’s the end of that vat of poison. You go in as you were today.” Andros’ head went back against his chair with a soft thud. “As a cripple?” “As a disabled student. We couldn’t ask for better cover, because you’re going in as yourself. They never knew about your conversion. That will give you a huge advantage.” Ann frowned at Faye. “I want your word that you’ll do as you’re told. If you feel out of your depth or in danger, you broadcast and we’ll send help. Andros will be going in as himself, Serena has a post as a temporary lecturer in the professor’s department and Nick will back you up. If you need him to come in, he’ll act as Serena’s boyfriend. I want this man stopped and I want it done discreetly.” “Can you strip his mind once you have Nordheim?” Faye didn’t care what happened to him anymore. Not after finding out what he’d done to others. If it had merely been manipulation, selfish use of people for his own ends, then she wouldn’t have been so concerned. After all, it was her own stupid fault that she’d believed him. But he’d caused suffering and death—for money. “It’s a last resort,” Serena said. She’d hardly moved at all, just observed with that uncanny stillness virgin Sorcerers sometimes had. “In any case, he probably has a selfdestruct bomb set. We’re finding more and more of them these days.” At Faye’s raised brow, she explained. “It’s like a suicide bomb. If a Sorcerer trips a mental trigger, it will detonate. Like an atom bomb, but of the mind. It wipes the mind of the person concerned and the Sorcerer who is questioning. And if it’s done outside an iso room, anyone in the vicinity, also.” “For now,” Ann said, “I want Nordheim stopped, and anyone in transit recovered. I want extreme discretion used, so that I can put an agent into the operation in deep cover. Clear?” In this place, Faye was learning, Ann’s decisions were final. She swallowed. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d realized sooner.” “Make amends,” Ann told her. “Make a difference.”
***** Back in the privacy of his apartment, Andros could finally give Faye the comfort he’d yearned to all the time he’d listened and learned about the professor’s activities. He put his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get out of this. We’ll do okay.” She shuddered and turned into the shelter of his body. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have gotten him out. I really thought—how stupid am I?” 54
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He hated her this vulnerable. Her fine mind was collapsing in the wake of the revelations and the pictures she’d forced herself to look at. His boss would do anything to get the justice she believed Talents were entitled to. She only ever thought about the big picture. She’d dragged Sandro Gianetti out of blissful retirement on his honeymoon to stand for a vacant senatorship. She’d used couples ruthlessly in pursuit of the greater good, and Andros had no doubt that if she had to sacrifice him, she’d do it without compunction if she thought she’d save more lives than she’d lose. He couldn’t live like that, couldn’t think like that. Coming in to STORM from the outside, from the viewpoint of a previously anti-Talent stand, he could see what she didn’t. As far as he’d been concerned, they’d refused to help him with his muscular dystrophy when they had the means to do so. The Talents he’d connected with had lied to him, told him they could cure him or convert him with little cost to themselves, and so he could understand what Faye was going through now. Before, he’d believed that Talents were refusing to help him. To learn that shapeshifters could only convert once and vampires had to give up their lives in order to convert someone had come as a revelation to him. He still thought they should reveal that fact. It would stop the begging letters STORM received by the sacksful, or the inbox-full. But Ann wanted information filtered out and vampires, secretive by nature, refused to reveal anything about themselves that wasn’t strictly necessary. He knew now that soon he’d have to find a place of his own. Move out. It was unhealthy to live here. Even if his apartment at STORM was far better than anything he could afford on his own in this part of town, one of the best areas of Manhattan. He’d cope. Thanks to his great salary, he wouldn’t starve anytime soon and he could easily afford something central and comfortable. No cramped studio apartments for him. Glancing over Faye’s bowed head, he took in the place he’d made his own. No huge gamer screens or complex rigs here. He kept them downstairs. Here he had a laptop, a couple of game consoles and some great, comfortable furniture. He had a large living room with a fantastic view, two bedrooms, a bathroom and a half, kitchen and study. None of it was important, not really, and nothing personal. In San Francisco, a firebomb had taken most of his sentimental treasures, family pictures— keepsakes from the large house he’d grown up in, all gone. He’d been glad to start from scratch in New York. It seemed appropriate. New life, new belongings. He could leave it all behind and not look back if he wanted to. But not the woman in his arms. He’d have difficulty leaving her behind. His stomach tightened with apprehension when he thought of it. He’d never planned to put down roots this soon, had planned on a hundred years, maybe two, of the carefree single life. But the knowledge, deep down, that he’d found someone special only grew in certainty the more contact he had with her. More than anything he wanted to go on with her and find out what they had. In a while. After he’d helped Faye clear up this mess.
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“Come and sit down.” He led her to the sofa and for the first time she raised her head and looked around. “It’s nice here.” “You sound as if you expected a nerd’s paradise.” She gave a shaky laugh and his heart lightened a little. “I did, sort of. You do computer science, you’re a company geek and, in my experience, they tend to live their work.” “Not this one.” He wanted to tell her something about himself that not many people knew, give her something special. “I had other interests. I loved music, wanted the whole rock-and-roll dream. Be a star, play for thousands of people. But I wasn’t good enough. I could sing okay, I could play guitar okay, but no more than that. It’s a hobby, one I enjoy, but it’s a good lesson, to learn that you can’t be a superstar at everything. I’m good at computers though, more than good, so I stay with that.” He indicated his Martin acoustic on its stand in the corner of the room. “Perhaps the love of music saved me from total nerd-dom. The computer work comes too easily to me most of the time.” He paused. “I have found something I want to work at now. That’s why I applied to do a doctorate. It’s something I want to share with the world. Ann says I can make a fortune, but I want to do it responsibly. If it works.” She lifted her tearstained face to his. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. He loved the way she curled into him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wanted to keep her there. “I’m doing my dissertation on the connection between telepathy and physical objects. I’m building a keyboard that can be operated telepathically. A virtual keyboard.” “Why?” “Because everybody has telepathy, every Talent, every mortal. Everyone can be taught to use it, if only a little. If a paraplegic could learn how to communicate that way, he or she could use a computer. It’s easy to do with telekinesis, but only Talents have that in enough strength and control to operate a keyboard. If a disabled person could operate a keyboard, it could be hooked up to any number of devices.” She frowned. “A virtual keyboard?” “You’ve seen them—those projected keyboards. The media is always saying that Talents can help mortals by sharing, but not all gifts are psi.” “Wow.” Her lips curved in a tentative smile. “It’s not just paraplegics who could use this, is it?” “No. If I can do this, I’ll start a company to produce them. And hopefully, I can make enough profit to give keyboards away to deserving causes.” “How far are you along with the project?” He grinned. “I work on it in most of my free time, but since my conversion, I’ve been slacking. I had to learn how to be a dragon. How to walk again. It sounds great,
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but it’s not all fun and games, regaining my ability to walk, learning to think long-term. Really long-term.” He made a face and she laughed. He found that laugh adorable. He dropped a kiss on her lips, a playful, flirtatious kiss. She reached up, touched the back of his neck, urging him to do more. What else could he do but oblige? When she opened her mouth wide and twined her tongue with his, he tasted her desperation. He didn’t think she needed the oblivion of frantic sex, not now. And he had the sense of being used to help her forget. He didn’t want to do that, so he drew away, resting his hands on her hips. “Come on. A hot bath, a good meal and bed. You need pampering.” He’d much rather care for her than be the vessel she used to gain some ease. At least tonight, when she needed comforting and he needed to comfort her just as badly. Although Andros couldn’t say he’d taken to cooking, he’d found some great places that would provide him with good meals to stock his freezer. He mentally went over the contents and decided on poached salmon with basil. He’d bought a few servings of that dish. He’d call the place and get them to deliver after their bath. Deliveries to STORM were a bit more complicated, since he had to go down and collect it, rather than allow them access to the building. Another reason for having a place of his own. He gave a wry grin. He could get away from STORM and the pressures here. Then he wouldn’t be so tempted to go downstairs and work when he couldn’t sleep. With this woman beside him, he wouldn’t feel the temptation to leave his bed quite so often. Andros took her to his bathroom and turned on the faucets. He had a nice, big corner tub, easily big enough for two. Three at a squeeze, but he wasn’t planning to invite anyone else into their relationship. He undressed her while the bath filled, touching her body but not lingering to kiss and fondle. Not yet. Easy does it. Remembering his sister’s constant reminders when he was growing up to act like a gentleman, never to forget his manners, Andros helped her into the tub before he stripped quickly and joined her. He’d have to call Ania later, but she’d probably turned her cell off in the hospital. He brushed Faye’s hair away from her shoulder and dropped a gentle kiss there as he drew her back against him. His cock was already erect, pressing insistently against her back, but he wouldn’t give way to the urge yet. Instead, he picked up the soap, wishing it was something sweetly perfumed for her instead of his usual unscented, simple brand. But it would do. She smelled sweet enough. He rubbed the soap between his hands and put it down before he curved his arms around her and cupped her breasts, massaging them, the suds adding a slick silkiness to his actions. He paused to tweak her nipples, her sharp gasp in response coming as music to his ears and he continued, stroking her skin in increasingly wider circles. Her head went back against his shoulder and she moaned. “That feels so good. Have you had training or something?”
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“I just picked up a few techniques.” Now was definitely not the time to tell her how he’d learned relaxing massage. Hours of physiotherapy to keep his legs from becoming totally useless, fighting an enemy everyone knew would win eventually had, after all, had some benefits. He’d learned how to restore circulation, to keep his body moving and how to relax it at the end of a long session. Then he’d dated a physiotherapist, who’d taught him much more interesting ways to use massage. He kept his movements slow and steady, returning to caress her breasts, using a figure eight shape. He loved the way her lovely breasts responded to his touch, loved their soft femininity, the way her nipples peaked while the rest of her slowly unwound. Moving to her neck, he felt the knots of tension ease under his hands, the stiffness of her upper back slowly giving way to supple relaxation. He couldn’t resist leaving kisses on the skin he’d smoothed, after he’d rinsed it clear of soapsuds. But he made them small, undemanding, occasionally flicking out his tongue to taste her, but no more than that. Rising, he climbed out of the tub and then got in opposite her, rather than urge her to move. Now he faced her he rubbed her legs, coaxing the hard muscles to relax under his relentless but gentle strokes. Moving from ankle to calf to thigh, he eventually reached her cleft. His hand grazed her clit and he looked up at her soft moan. She was leaning against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, head back, but at his touch she whimpered and her head went up. Her gaze met his, dark and wondering. A smile slowly grew. “Can you massage that?” “It won’t be the relaxing session I’d planned.” He tweaked her clit. “But I think it’ll help you relax in the long term.” She chuckled low in her throat and his cock responded as if she had a string attached to it. He straightened and let her see before he moved closer, draped her legs over his. She watched him through half-closed eyes, her tension filling the air. But this time it was pleasurable anticipation and not strain. He could do this. He loved doing this. Letting his hand graze her clit again, he stroked her, so softly she would hardly be able to feel it. “You can open to me if you want,” he said, guessing she might still be wary. “This apartment is sealed off from the rest of STORM, except for emergency contact. Nobody can sense you, not the greatest Sorcerer. My psi teacher Chase Maynord set up the barriers for me.” He wished Chase was in town to cope with this operation with him, but he was away—in England. Chase Maynord was one Sorcerer most people had heard of, being high profile, the owner of a chain of hotels and a member of New York’s elite. Serena was good, but she didn’t have Chase’s warmth and humanity. He felt Faye’s pleasure softly filtering into his mind and he returned it, gave her his. Blending sexual pleasure could become addictive, especially with someone he felt attuned to. It filled him with well-being, a sense of floating.
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Touching her could become addictive too. Soft silk, underlaid with a firmness he had yet to test. Her clit rose, hardened, and when he glanced up he saw her nipples tighten. Watching teasing her, he could do this forever. Andros pressed a little harder. Her response was to slide farther down toward him, pushing into his hand. But he didn’t want this to end yet so he backed off a little, continuing with his steady pressure. He slid his finger and thumb over her clit, holding it a little firmer, relishing the hot, tight little bud. He manipulated it only a little. Enough to make her gasp. Now she’d let him in, he could control his progress better, gauge how much harder to push. He glided over her opening. That wasn’t just water causing the slick wetness that invited him in. “I can see that grin,” she murmured. “Don’t feel so pleased with yourself.” “Why not?” Actually he was feeling a bit smug. “I’m taking you up and then I’ll hold you while you come down.” Her eyes opened wider, just a fraction, and he felt a splinter of concern in her mind. “All that exists is now. It’s tonight, here and now and this second.” The philosophy that had seen him through so much in the past stood him in good stead now. She relaxed again, the only tension remaining that of her growing heat and arousal. Her mind opened a little more. He pleasured her, his fingers dancing along her central crease, easing just inside and then teasing her, taking some of her juices to smear over her clit and resume playing again. Her arousal rose, grew and encompassed most of her mind. He loved it, her response and his control, the way she trusted him to do this for her. She had such a lovely pussy, pink, damp. Sweet. He added a few choice words to his playing. “You’re so pretty like this. Your nipples are hard, so hard. Play with them for me. Let me see you touch yourself.” She brought her hands out of the water and cupped her breasts. “Oh so beautiful.” He encouraged her, his fingers exerting more pressure, his own arousal growing almost unbearable as she twisted her nipples, squeezed her breasts until the flesh escaped her fingers. He worked her, brought her up to screaming point—nearly. Until he leaned forward and lifted her. His cock needed no help finding its way to her pussy, sliding home without him trying, knowing where it belonged. As did he. Hot silky flesh enveloped him, surrounded him, made him want more and still more. With his arms around her waist, he guided her, not wanting any sudden movements. Not yet. “Just enjoy, sweetness. Let it happen. Don’t force it.” Spreading one hand, he caressed the curve from her waist to her hip, then encompassed the slight swell of her stomach, feeling her tighten her muscles. He slid his thumb down, just touched her clit. She jumped but he held her steady so she didn’t go far. She gazed down at him, her expression softer than he’d seen before. Again, he rejoiced that she’d trusted him and let him in. He read suffering, though she kept some doors in her mind closed so he couldn’t see exactly what that suffering entailed. She’d come through it all. 59
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He had one hell of a woman here. He let himself relax into the pattern of her mind, learning its nuances and rhythms, opening his so she could do the same, if she wanted to. Together they moved. She kneeled on the floor of the tub and used her thigh muscles, lifting as he withdrew, bearing down as he thrust. Every time his cock sank into her soft depths it was like entering heaven all over again. Her juices flowed over him and they moved, easy as a dance they’d performed many times before, new as the dawn. Their minds met, blended and joined in bliss, their delight mutual. Andros couldn’t have separated their experiences or the visions that floated across their combined consciousness even if he’d wanted to. Her firm, delicious flesh, her taste when he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked in time to their dance. “So good, you feel so good,” he murmured to her, touching his tongue to her shoulder, just to touch her, to taste her. “We feel so good.” She rested her head on his. “Your hair is so soft. And so pale.” “Polish.” He grinned, tipping his head back to stare into her eyes. “Though I’m American, born and bred.” He felt the question in her mind and answered it before she articulated it. “Twentysix, I’m twenty-six. Are you cradle-robbing?” Talents appeared young until shortly before their death, so he couldn’t tell by looking at her. “Something like that.” She sank down on him. “Though right now that’s not what I’m feeling.” Increasing their movements incrementally, they worked toward their climax. Waves of sensation prickled his skin, rising now and he gave way, let them take over. Her muscles stiffened, tightened and his balls drew in close to his body. Pleasurepain racked his body and like a burst of lightning in a cloudy sky, it came. He came. She came, the involuntary clenching of her pussy driving him higher. Semen surged up his cock. He felt its progress, a searing tidal wave consuming him until he gave himself completely to it. Their cries mingled, each other’s names and screams of wordless, mindless joy. And it was over. Except that it wasn’t. As sure as he knew his name, he knew they’d experience it again. Their minds remained open to each other and he rejoiced. She trusted him enough to let him in real deep, although not yet all the way. His mother had once told him that every woman deserved to keep a few secrets, and he guessed that went for shapeshifters too. Then he tensed. His love of music, linked to his facility at math, had improved his ability to notice patterns, rhythms, shapes, and something here wasn’t right. Something here didn’t belong to her or to him. Her eyes snapped open. “What is it?”
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“Wait, hold still.” The next moment he was sure of it. “I think someone planted a compulsion in your mind.” She jerked off him, sending the water splashing over the edge of the tub. “What do you mean? Serena said she couldn’t find anything initially.” “Maybe she didn’t look close enough. Maybe she didn’t look in the right place. But it’s here.” She reacted badly, drawing her knees up to her chest and bending over in a gesture of protection. “Can you get it out? Where is it? Show me?” A compulsion was a block someone planted in another’s mind. Talented society considered them illegal, as was any form of deliberate manipulation by one person on another. Not that it stopped people doing it. Persuasion was one thing, something not approved of, but context mattered. Not compulsion, the intrusion, the rape of one mind by another. He hid the word quickly, although that was how he felt about that ugly block he could see clearly now. He outlined it, concentrated, turned his outline to a glowing shape. “Can you see it now?” He felt her consciousness join him. Yes. Her voice held a sob. “Get rid of it, Andros.” He swallowed. “I don’t know if I can. Can you help?” I think so. There it was, the barrier. Like a hypnotist crooning “believe me”, Nordheim had done this to her. The area breathed his name. Andros read his identity as easily as if the professor had signed it. “Together. Work at it like you’d chip at a block of stone. Eventually it should crumble and dissolve.” He started at one end and she took the other. It was an ugly, knotted shape he wanted gone, but not as much as she did. The shape changed, lost its solidity as they attacked it, bore into it. Exhaustion gripped him but he wouldn’t give up until it was all gone. They met in the middle. Nothing remained of the obstacle blocking some impulses, and now they had destroyed it, they could both see what he’d blocked. Her ability to question Nordheim, and a strong compulsion to believe him without question. “The fucking bastard.” Andros wasn’t aware he’d spoken aloud until she agreed with him, also verbally. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “All gone.” “Yes. Hold me, Andros.” She shivered and only then did he realize the water had gone cold. He had no idea how long they’d taken until then. An hour. Jesus, he hadn’t realized. But she needed caring for now, so he climbed out and went to the shower stall, flicked on the water. He took her into the shower and held her until they both warmed up, and then dried her with one of his thick, fluffy white towels. By then the color had returned to her skin and although she didn’t speak much, she responded to his gentle questions. He
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kept to their current state. Was she warm enough, did she want a drink, did she want a separate bed? Yes, no and no. He took her to bed and watched her sleep, content just having her here.
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Chapter Five Faye didn’t forget his cradle-robbing crack, although she made no reference to it afterward. Twenty-six. He was twenty-six. And yet with his mastery in bed, she had taken the passive role and loved every minute of it. Not that she didn’t take control. After waking and using the bathroom, she returned to bed to find he’d thrown off most of the covers, exposing his delectable body. She took a moment to admire him. Not a muscular bodybuilder type, but with a strong, well-developed body that showed his determination to recover after the disease that could have killed him. She wanted to run her tongue over every strong curve, feel him flex his body as he woke. Then there was that other item that had given her so much pleasure earlier that night. Lying against his thigh now, as dormant as its owner, she thought she knew what to do about that. It’d had enough time to recuperate. Smiling devilishly, she climbed back on to the bed and straddled him, careful not to touch him just yet. Pausing, she watched him to ensure he slept on. His deep breathing continued unabated. She bent over him, let her breath bathe him, and examined his cock. She approved, enjoying the sight of his cock head in repose, a part of him the protective foreskin would cover, if he had one. Its warmth called to her, the soft, smooth skin tempted her to taste, and the scent of their lovemaking made her pussy wet. Moisture trickled down one thigh and she moved it slightly so it wouldn’t touch him and wake him. She knew exactly when she wanted him awake. This was fun. He stirred and she held her breath. He reached out an arm, swept it down the sheet and sighed when he couldn’t find her. Time to act. Faye pushed her hair behind her shoulders, bent and licked the very tip of his cock, taking his unique, delicious flavor as her own. His musky scent enveloped her and she breathed deep, inhaling what she was about to taste. Planting her hands on either side of his thighs for balance, she took him into her mouth and sucked. Then she licked, savoring the flavor of what she’d just drawn from him. Only a tiny bit, but his cock stirred and she felt it come to life against her tongue as he awoke, hardening, thickening and lengthening. A tiny groan, a gasp of shock and then his fingers cupped her skull, threaded through her hair. His grip tightened when she sucked harder and took him deeper and his groan became a word. Her name.
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His thighs tensed in an involuntary reaction to her deep sucking. She gripped his cock, the part that wouldn’t fit into her mouth unless she deep throated him, and worked it in time to her sucking. When she paused to lick and taste, he moaned. “Not much more, please, sweetheart.” He twisted under her as if to escape, but his cries and moans told her that wasn’t really what he wanted. She slipped into his mind, into the deeper part where she could feel his emotions, and a thrill shot through her when she realized she’d met no resistance. A knife into butter couldn’t have gone in more smoothly. And by reading him, she could make it better for him. A heady feeling, to have a man totally in her power. She drew him to the back of her throat but decided not to go further today. She wanted this to be a smooth, joyful experience as though he were waking up to orgasm, and gagging wouldn’t enhance that. She didn’t speak into his mind but shared her pleasure with him, all of it, even the feelings of control. He responded with happiness and gratitude, a sign of a strong man. Because it took a strong man to give up control, to give himself up to someone else. His arousal rose, in her mind as well as his, and he grasped her shoulder with his free hand. “No more, please. Or I’ll come.” Her only response was to chuckle, deliberately letting the vibrations circle his cock and ending with a hum. He tensed and bucked so that she had to draw on the strength of her dragon to keep him steady so she could finish her task. His breathless laugh told her he knew what she’d done. Besides, the communication went both ways and he’d probably sensed the rise of the dragon in her. Starving for his taste, she concentrated on the changes. The way his balls tightened and the salty flavor turned deeper, thicker, more musky as his orgasm became inevitable. With a great shout, he erupted. She felt his essence moving up, filling him with uncontrollable pleasure. She drank him down, every drop, every delicious part of his climax and then rested, letting her dragon subside into sleep. She felt as sated as if she’d come too, and she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t. One of the gradual climaxes that arrive in great waves and then subside like the tide going out rather than fireworks exploding. After making sure she had every drop of him, she let him help her up into his arms and lay there, content. He kissed her hair, then when she lifted her chin, her lips. She opened her mouth and he swept in to share the taste and then she felt a little flutter in the region of her clit like an aftershock. His incredibly tender gesture had pushed her over the edge. She’d remember his taste for the rest of her life. Just as she’d remember the way he cradled her in his arms afterward as they drifted off to sleep.
*****
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The next day Faye had to dress in yesterday’s clothes. She left off the panties and when Andros saw the lacy garment on the bathroom floor, he leered and promised retribution later for her taking them off. She loved it, but she decided to make use of the spare set of clothes she kept in the office or her girlfriends would totally destroy her. His levity helped her to cope with the devastating events of the day before, helped her begin the process of putting it into place and reordering her life. She had a new boyfriend and one ex-friend. That was all. The rest would come with time. Before she left STORM, she was issued a blue ankle bracelet and basic instructions. To keep Andros with her, in her mind, to contact him if she thought anything was amiss, and to meet with him later. STORM was having Nordheim’s office searched and the contents boxed, leaving it ready for the next incumbent, who happened to be Serena Duval under the name of Casey Burrows. Faye’s girlfriends were waiting avidly for her to show up, as it happened. She walked into the main office of the department and they all looked up. Lara was there, and she had the day off, Faye knew for sure. Three women, eyes gleaming, in an otherwise empty office. “So tell us,” Cathy said without preamble. “Where did you get to after yesterday’s drama? And was he good, was he worth it?” She tried for the dignified response. “They took me in to STORM for questioning. I stood near the poor guy who got stabbed, so they wanted to know what had happened.” “Yeah, yeah.” Lara waved away the response. “Not buying it. You were holding hands with a blond guy on crutches. You telling me that was out of terror? Don’t even go there, girl. You were with him before it all started.” “I want to know what went on after I left.” “Sure you do.” Rina grinned. “In short, not much. A lot of talk, some interviews, then ‘back to work, slaves’ and we were done. So tell us. Who is the tall, blond stranger?” Faye surrendered to the inevitable. “His name’s Andros Zelinski. He’s a computer science student.” The girls’ mouths formed perfect Os. Lara was the first to speak. If Faye had put money on it, she’d have given the sassy blonde evens. “A student? You’re dating a student?” Faye shrugged. They had to know. Andros wouldn’t leave her alone here. They’d decided to go into this as a couple, so she bowed to the inevitable. “He’s doing his PhD, so it’s not as bad as it sounds. He has a job.” She paused. “At STORM.” Okay, surely Cathy didn’t have to scream. It nearly took out her eardrums. “The lion’s den! I thought you joined the anti-STORM group!” “I just wanted to know more about Talents and what they mean to us. I had one in my class this year, and no, I won’t tell you who.” That was true, as far as it went. After all, she was a member of her own class. And she had taught a few Talents in the past. “I met Andros and we hit it off, so we went on a date last night. He’s a mortal, not a 65
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Talent, he just works at STORM as a geek. End of story.” She hoped she could come clean after the mission, at least as far as Andros was concerned. She still wasn’t sure about coming out herself, but at least she knew neither Andros nor anyone at STORM would pressure her into it. Rina frowned. She got up from her desk and crossed the room to the water cooler. “Why don’t they convert him? Or are the crutches temporary?” “No. He has Becker’s. It’s a form of muscular dystrophy. STORM has a waiting list for conversion and he’s on that, but they don’t come up often.” Lara grimaced. “They prefer to keep it for themselves.” Faye didn’t comment. “Anyhow, we talked about more than STORM, and we liked each other’s company. So I’m seeing him again.” “And you’re telling me you didn’t sleep with him?” “I’m not telling you anything,” Faye said, as calmly as she could. ”But even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be breaking any rules.” True enough. Her department had nothing to do with his. “Leave her alone, girls.” At last, the voice of reason. She gave Rina a smile of thanks. But Rina went on, “We’ll know soon enough. I’m only too glad to see the back of that creepy professor. Much too old for you. Better to be a cougar.” Faye gave an embarrassed laugh. “Twenty-six. A couple of years doesn’t make me a cougar.” But a hundred or so might. The other two agreed. “You got too tied up in the professor and his cause, girl. He’s on the run now. Who knows where he is?” Rina said. She still could hardly believe Nordheim had done what they said, but she’d seen the evidence for herself. Irrefutable evidence. “So what did they tell you about Professor Nordheim at STORM?” Rina asked. “Is he a man or a Talent? Did he stab that Talent they flew off to hospital?” She shrugged. “As far as I know he’s as human as I am. You don’t think he would have shape-shifted if he could?” “So where is he?” Rina wasn’t giving up. “On the run. He’s wanted for questioning on a number of counts of abduction and murder. That’s why they wanted him originally. That’s why I had to go in for questioning. They’re taking in everybody from the Fairness Society, in case they know where he is.” The collective gasp expressed the way she’d felt. She’d touched this slime, had dinner with him. Nearly fucked him. Before they’d separated today, Andros had warned Faye, “Don’t see him, don’t let him see you in private. If he comes near you, contact me. Fuck, send out a broadcast.” She’d kissed him and promised. She didn’t have a death wish. Lara paused in the act of booting up her computer. Her gaze left the screen and went to Faye. “He really killed people?” 66
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“Talents. Yes.” “Not really the same thing, is it?” Faye swallowed. “What do you mean?” Lara shrugged. “Well, Talents, you know? They had a couple hundred years already. And they won’t help the rest of us, will they? They want it all ways. They want what we’ve built up and they don’t want to give anything back.” “So how do you know that someone like Isaac Newton wasn’t a Talent?” Faye demanded. Her temper rose and she had to fight to keep control. Jesus, who was feeding these people this shit? “Of course he wasn’t. Maybe you need to come to a meeting with us.” The club Lara belonged to, of course. The anti-Talents in every way. Every university had its fanatics, and Lara belonged to the “get rid of them all” lobby. “Do you think the law will hold them if they really want to take over?” Rina demanded. She made a sound of exasperation. “They do it because they want to. I want to give them some leeway, a chance to show us what they can do. And Faye’s right. Remember what she said the other day? It makes sense to me. Talents have lived among us for centuries and we’re none the worse. We could be better off.” She grinned at Faye. “Do you really think Newton was a Talent?” No, actually, he wasn’t. But she couldn’t say that now. “He could have been. Who knows?” “Come to a meeting, both of you,” Lara urged. “You’ll see.” What could she say, but “Sure”? Not that she ever intended to go. Halfway through the morning, Ann sent a bunch of stuff to Andros’ phone. He thumbed through the messages and gave a low whistle. It turned out Nordheim was into all kinds of shit. He recruited vampire wannabes, the kind of people who willingly offered themselves up as blood slaves. They attracted vampires who wanted an easy feed. To some people it was the ultimate fantasy. So vampires had disappeared, along with the shape-shifters. It made it worse that Nordheim was a Talent. This university was one of the biggest in the city and it held any number of weirdos. Andros had the unenviable task of investigating them, or as many as he could get through. They’d been arranged for him in order of closeness to Nordheim. The ones in the Fairness Society were already being questioned but there were Nordheim’s students, colleagues, people he socialized with. He could scan most, but he had to take care because somewhere, Ann believed, were his accomplices in the abduction scam. First, they had to visit a vampire club, with members that worshipped and offered themselves to the vamps as blood slaves. Lucky vampires. They held the club after classes. This being fall, it started getting dark around six and the meeting was scheduled for seven, so the vampires were manifesting their full
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powers. A shame, he’d hoped to be away and sitting in some cozy restaurant with his girl by then. He texted Faye and let her know where he’d be. She met him there. They were holding the meeting in one of the smaller classrooms in the arts building. And it looked just like he expected. Andros had belonged to one of the wannabe clubs an age back. An age in his experience, but a year in reality. So much had happened since then. He had played with his band in a club for vampires and would-be vampires. Some of the bastards had even taken his blood, weak though he was at the time. But now he knew there were bad vampires and good ones, just as there were bad mortals and good ones. Species didn’t guarantee decency. He thought that if vamps were up front about how hard it was to change someone, they’d save themselves a whole lot of hassle. They’d also lose some willing blood donors, but they could live with that. But not his call, so he’d keep clear. One thing he could do without was an angry vampire baying for his blood. They’d dimmed the lights in the room, and draped some black cloth here and there. Behind the desk at the front they’d hung a banner that said “Welcome vampires.” And at the front stood someone Andros would bet wasn’t a vampire. He sensed nothing from the guy. The tight black pants and poet’s shirt showed a lack of imagination, but if the guy wanted to pretend, Andros wouldn’t stand in his way. All his senses went on alert when Faye came in. Immediately he moved from his station next to the wall to meet her. People cleared the way, gave him sympathetic smiles he wanted to snarl at. He could give less able-bodied people a bad rep that way, so he kept his cool and smiled back. He got to Faye quicker. She shot him an alarmed glance but he didn’t stop until he reached her and could lean down and give her a kiss of greeting. His hair fell over them both, his pale blond mingling with her dark chestnut. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to take her home and to bed, take care of her, love her. She contacted him. Should we be so open? People know about us. It would look suspicious to stay apart. Come on, get out of the entrance. People want to come in. She moved away from the doorway, followed him to his spot by the back wall. They stood together, close, and the world grew a little warmer. The guy at the front introduced himself as Sergiu Tanase. Like fuck he is, Andros commented to Faye and heard her amusement in his mind. Probably Harry Smith or something, she responded. The man had overdone it. He wore his hair long and the curls had tangled around his shoulders. His eye makeup was far from subtle, and either he’d used some kind of dye or bitten his lips to get them that red. No self-respecting vampire would appear in public in such a hackneyed getup. Or maybe he would, but only to make his friends laugh. “I am a vampire, although I do not have to take much blood.” He pronounced it “blut”. Whatever he was, he so wasn’t the Romanian he claimed to be, with that faux
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accent and his fake name. Andros didn’t try to penetrate his mind any deeper than he had. He couldn’t see the point. But someone else saw it. Already he recognized the Sorcerer’s clear, passionate mind, so focused and disciplined. He hadn’t seen Serena Duval when he came in and he suspected she’d arrived early and settled somewhere quiet. But she was here now, and close. She touched his mind in greeting, then concentrated on the others in the room. He knew by the way her hand tensed in his that Faye had picked up on Serena too. What’s she doing here? The same as we are, I guess. Checking out the members here. Little chance that Serena would pick up their private conversation, so deep now that only they could share the place. There must be fifty people here. Some dressed in black and red, Goth style, others in casual clothes. But he didn’t pick up any vampires. Unless they’d closed their minds. There are at least three vampires here. Serena could go deeper than he could and still remain undetected. She told him vampires were waiting, exploring the minds of the people. If they could pick up prey here, they would, but it could be a trap. It probably was a trap, considering the links Nordheim had with the club. I sense something, something buried deep. I want to get to this man calling himself Tanase, Serena said. You think he’s helping Nordheim and his friends? Andros wanted to know. Her reply was laconic. I suspect the link is there. The “vampire” gave a toothy smile but no fangs showed. Andros had seen people get tooth jobs from their dentists, existing teeth filed and shaped or caps applied. At least this guy hadn’t gone that far. “We don’t usually meet here, but this being the start of the semester, some of you might be new to this. We want vampires. We love you guys. Here you can find people who care about you and want to help you. We know vampire numbers are low. We can’t see you disappear.” “Don’t you mean ‘us’?” someone yelled. Sergiu raised a brow. “If you say so.” His accent thickened. Andros had already noted the way it came and went, even in the space of a few sentences. Tanase tilted his head to one side, smiled at the questioner as if he were an operatic villain. “We will be here. We usually meet once a week at the Skoland Express.” A local bar. “We want to say to any Talents here that not everyone at this university is the enemy of the Talent. We welcome you. We have this room for tonight. Feel free to mingle.” Andros didn’t trust the bastard one bit. Any more than he trusted the crazies in the anti-Talent group. But he was naturally that way, and being with STORM had only increased his latent paranoia. Although sometimes you were right and they were really after you. He gripped Faye’s hand, feeling oddly safe. Content to stay here with her as long as she wanted. At least he recognized this brand of nuttiness. He spoke up, hoping his
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words would stir the crowd and make it easier for Serena to read them. “I came from San Francisco,” he said. “We had the same kind of setup. Hopefully you can help me one day, if I help you.” Andros met Sergiu’s burning gaze. “I’m sure I can.” The silky smile said it all. “In fact I know I can. Stick with me, kid. I’ll look after you, if you look after me.” And then he felt it, the glamour vampires exuded to get what they wanted, to lull their victims into a state of dreamy acceptance. So he was a real vampire, after all. He’d just buried his Talent deep and built strong defenses. Some vampires refused to use their compulsion. He pretended to be fascinated and moved closer, Faye following him. This was a bad vamp. Andros had just wanted to be sure. Only a purely selfish, ignorant vampire would take the blood of someone as obviously disabled as he was. But the man read him, his powerful mind sweeping across Andros’ mind once before leaving. Andros did his best to maintain the defensive, proud attitude that had kept him going for so long, but he couldn’t replicate the damaged part of his mind. MD eventually got everywhere. And always there was the knowledge that he wouldn’t get better. So he added a shot of desperation to the mix. That came so easily, even now. “I’m interested too.” Serena stepped forward, smiling. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Andros wouldn’t have believed that the Sorcerer could inject so much warmth, so much feeling into her eyes, and move so seductively. She must have studied a long time to get that effect. Deep in his mind, he heard her rebuttal. Just a certain cartoon rabbit. She taught me everything I needed to know. He detected an echo of laughter. The vampire turned his attention to her, having hooked Andros, or so he probably believed. He grinned. “Sure. You’d make a tasty addition to the clan.” He gave her a slow, sexy sweep with his gaze and grinned. “Except you’d have to wait your turn. You’re one in a long line of girls, sweetness. And I only have a certain capacity. Come to one of our private parties. I’ll send you an invite.” “Maybe later.” Serena maintained the sultry, seductive pose, gazing at the vampire, seemingly in worship. Anything to get deeper into his mind. But her chest moved in a small sigh. And Andros felt the snap of her irritation in his mind. She couldn’t get in as deep as she wanted to. Either that, or the vampire was as he seemed—cheesy and sleazy. She turned and slinked out the door, the people remaining clearing a path for her. Andros shot a glance at Faye, then at Sergiu. “Wow.” The vampire watched Serena leave, then gave an exaggerated shrug before turning back to them. “She’ll be back. She just wants to make her point and get me running after her. I can wait. But she looked tasty. I’ll look forward to marking that pretty white throat.” Any minute now and he’ll run his tongue over his teeth, Faye said laconically.
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When Sergiu did so, Andros nearly broke into laughter. “Looks as if you have enough prey. Do you really think of them as prey?” “No of course not.” The vampire could hardly want to put off the others present. “But we appreciate the donations. We will, of course, try to repay them, but it’s not always in our hands. Conversion, for instance, is difficult and very hard to achieve. But there are other ways.” “Is it true that when you choose a mate, if she drinks your blood she can live long?” a woman asked him now. Andros could hardly blame the woman for believing a particularly pervasive rumor. He’d heard it himself, and it sounded plausible. Except that blood was indigestible, even for vampires. Nobody actually drank the stuff. Vampires had an extra organ, and when they bit someone, that blood was drawn up the teeth and into the organ, there to be processed for the body’s use. It made them more vulnerable, not less, except that blood gave them extra strength and power. Vampires needed one extra item more than others did. Food, water, air and blood. Humans wouldn’t benefit from blood, vampire or otherwise. Ingestion of large amounts would just make them sick. A shame, because it was a lovely story, the one that made a vampire’s mate dependent on him, or more rarely, her, for sustenance. The ultimate in dependency. No, the only way a vampire could convert another was by losing his own life in the process. Legends abounded of vampires who had done just that, made the ultimate sacrifice for love. Andros wondered if he could do such a thing. Looking at Faye, he believed he could.
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Chapter Six The following day, at the end of a particularly difficult session trying to persuade students that Measure for Measure had far more significance for the modern reader than they recognized, Faye went back to her office and leaned back with a sigh of exhaustion. She found her cell and switched it back on. The thing tinkled, indicating an unread text message. It was from Andros. “Serena wants to see us. Meet you there.” A few students stopped by to ask her how she could see Isabella, the heroine of the play, as anything but a sanctimonious twit. By the time she’d persuaded them of several different ways to view the lady’s actions in the play, fifteen minutes had flown past and she still had to get to another building to reach Serena’s office. She left the building at a fair clip and strode across the path leading through the green lawn outside the arts building toward the faculty, where Nordheim’s office, now Serena’s, was situated. She was lucky they weren’t on another campus, but Speke was a compact university. The buildings holding the various faculties were in very different styles. The arts building, being the first one built, was a gracious Victorian edifice, four stories in a gray stone that blended with the Old-World-style gardens. The tall buildings framing it behind seemed an aberration. But the science building, as befitted its lofty ambitions and forward outlook, was a glass and steel edifice reaching for the sky, its entrance recently remodeled to form a large glass portico, the clean, classical design enhanced by its modern materials. Entering, she flashed her ID card to the less than observant guard at the door. There wasn’t usually one here, but after the events of yesterday, the dean probably wanted to at least show his willingness to improve security, if only to reassure the students. This man gave useless a good name. She could have flashed her library card and he’d have glanced at it and grunted. She tucked her wallet back in her pocket and thought of the more sophisticated ankle bracelets. How stupid she’d been to believe she could just steal one and get inside the STORM building. They’d probably made her the minute she landed on the roof. But Serena had cleared the fog from her mind, the fog put there by a man she’d considered her ally. Although the initial shock had abated, she was still angry about it. But she no longer doubted her own judgment. Andros had given her her mind back. This place was so different from the marble entrance at STORM, which, she recognized in retrospect, could be locked down from the rest of the building if necessary. STORM had an impressive entrance hall but a discreet one, with two
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elevators and an inner door. She’d bet the reception desk had a hidden security screen too. Clever. She ignored the students jostling and chatting, most of them heading out since lectures were done for the day and the library and catering facilities were situated elsewhere. She took the elevator up to the third floor. Tension filled her, but this time a pleasurable kind. She would see her lover again, and tonight—tonight they could indulge in whatever they wanted. She’d take him home, surprise him a little. Just because she lived incognito didn’t mean she had to live in a tiny apartment in an unsafe neighborhood. She smiled when she imagined his reaction to her place and what they could do there. What they would do there. Her blood heated and her pussy dampened at the thought. But they weren’t there yet. The elevator doors slid open with a creak and a shake. Like everything here, it needed servicing. Flashy buildings, shoddy workmanship. But she was so used to it she hardly noticed, although a couple of people riding up with her glanced at each other in alarm. She was the only person to get off on this floor. Smiling at the prospect of meeting Andros again, she strode up the hallway. Serena’s door was closed. Faye knocked and went in. And froze. Blood. Blood seeping under the desk, flooding the surface from the body of the woman slumped over it. She gagged at the stink of the blood and the sight before her. Serena had been sitting in her chair and had fallen forward to sprawl across the glossy wood veneered surface. Her blonde hair gleamed obscenely, the ends floating in the gore. Her head was turned to one side, toward the door. Faye stared at the open, unseeing eyes, their blue depths unfocused, staring at nothing. The lower part of Serena’s face was gone, blown away. Blood and pieces of matter spattered Serena’s diamond and gold watch. She must have taken it off and laid it on the desk at some point. The remains of her once immaculate appearance mocked Faye now, reminding her of the ice-cold, controlled Sorcerer. And over the body leaned Andros. He lost his balance when he saw her and put out his hand to save himself. He landed on the watch and grabbed it as he steadied himself, then looked down and grimaced. Faye heard a sound from the door and turned to face the new arrival. Nordheim grinned. “Hello, Faye,” he said, as if this were a social occasion. “Could you move a little to the left, please?” His mind probed hers, urging her to obey, reinforcing his command. She ignored it. She heard a sound. The click of an oldfashioned sidearm being cocked. She’d never forget that sound. If she moved the way he wanted, he’d hit Andros. She moved to the right, blocking the professor’s aim. He smiled at her, his face at ease, his handsome features displaying real warmth. Faye didn’t smile back. “Why should I, Harken? Why do you want to kill him?”
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Harken’s eyes filled with cloudy sorrow. “Because he wants to kill you. I don’t know if you’re aware, sweet Faye, but he’s STORM. I won’t have you corrupted by his kind. Please move, or I’ll have to hurt you. I can put all the blame on him, discover him in the act of murdering this woman. You can save me. It’s in your power. I can get off the other charge as self-defense. You can take me in, if you like. Get a gold star for your record.” So supercilious. Why hadn’t she seen that before? She knew why, and she recognized the intrinsic evil of compulsion. It had altered the way she viewed him. He’d have seduced her eventually, and that would have been nothing less than rape. Like fuck he’d let her take him in. He’d spare her, but only until she’d served his needs. She tried to filter her mind into his, but she met only his outer thoughts. Nothing significant, since he’d carefully manufactured them to reflect his stated intent. As he’d always done. Arguing with him would be a waste of time. Time to use the basic skills she’d learned long ago. She spun, shape-shifting at the same time, controlling her size so she didn’t swell to fill the room, and struck out with one arm, an arm that changed to a wing partway through its trajectory. It struck flesh, but Nordheim had time to fire. Pain seared her arm but Faye felt only triumph. She’d deflected the shot. She concentrated on disarming Harken. She had to act fast or he’d take another shot. One blow from her wing knocked him down and another broke his arm. She kicked the weapon away and, before she could censor her automatic response, Faye roared her triumph. Fire seared her mouth, flooded out in a stream of death, frying the bastard who had dared attack her man. She’d acted like the dragon she was, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. She shape-shifted back as she felt Andros touch her shoulder. “Fuck, oh fuck! I’ve sent out a broadcast to any STORM agent available. Get in there, Faye.” Dazed, half naked, her clothes shredded rags from the shape-shift, bleeding from the shallow wound in her arm, Faye stepped back inside the office. The phone rang. Before she could stop herself, she picked it up, but by the time she had the receiver against her ear, she’d remembered not to say anything. Someone at the other end barked a command. “Stay there. Help is on its way. Contain the situation.” Ann Reynolds. Faye was beginning to think the woman was omniscient. “Bring clothes,” she croaked, her throat sore from her recent firestream. “I had to shape-shift.” “Understood.” She hung up. Faye got to her feet from her perch on the side of the desk, the side without the blood. She ignored the way her limbs shook as shock took hold of her. “We need to get him inside.” “Your arm.”
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She glanced at it. “It’s okay, not deep. I’ll do a quick shape-shift to take care of it.” It didn’t even hurt. But it would, once the shock had abated. Together she and Andros dragged the professor’s body inside the office. Not a moment too soon, as doors were opening farther down the hall. They had to keep inside if they wanted to maintain their cover. Which now appeared more important than ever. They dumped him on the floor. She shape-shifted, felt the graze heal and shape-shifted back. She’d been right. It healed cleanly, only blood left to clean up, the wound sealed. When she reached for Andros’ hand, she found him waiting. As heedless of the blood that marked her as she was heedless of Serena’s blood on his hand, he hauled her into his arms and held her tight. “Oh baby, I’m sorry. Sorry you walked into this.” “What happened?” “I arrived a few minutes before you. I heard the elevator coming up as I came into the office. And then I heard the shot. So loud. Fuck, oh fuck.” He wasn’t shaking. Perhaps reaction would set in later. She’d be there for him. They stared at each other, avoiding the sight of the body on the floor. Nick opened the door with measured gravity. The edge of the door bumped Nordheim’s body, sending it into an obscene judder. Harken wouldn’t move anymore of his own volition. Faye stared down at him. She felt distanced, apart. She couldn’t reach her emotions, but this didn’t worry her. It had happened before and she knew from experience that in about half an hour that would flood back. She had that time to come to terms with what she’d done. Nick nudged the Talent with his foot. “Nordheim. Shit.” “Yeah,” Andros said. Nick’s emerald-green gaze took in Faye’s near-naked form. He shrugged off his jacket but Andros got there first. He took off his own leather jacket and laid it around her shoulders, taking her hands and gently urging them through the sleeves. Because he was taller than her, once he’d done up the zipper, she was fairly decent, the jacket skimming her thighs a couple of inches below her pussy. The covering eased her mind, although being a shape-shifter, being naked after a shape-shift wasn’t a new experience to her. But none of this was usual. She stared at the two bodies, both violently killed. One by her. “I just reacted. He had a gun.” Nick bent down and hefted the weapon. “You don’t see many of these around these days. It’s a Schofield .44. An antique. Should be in a museum.” He laid the firearm on the metal filing cabinet. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead, but some Talents have the ability to feign it. Sorcerers can even fake serious injuries.” He bent and examined the body. “Nope. He’s dead.” “I don’t know why he’d do this. He never seemed violent before.” She’d burned him down one side of his body, the stink of seared meat tainted the atmosphere. She
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swallowed down her involuntary gag. Seeing her throat move convulsively, Andros crossed the room and opened the window. The gush of fresh air felt like a new start. The professor lay with his head facing the window and Serena, whose blood was congealing now, forming globulous pools. It had dripped off the end of her desk to gather in a puddle on the floor. Faye stared, couldn’t stop staring. “Who did this? Do you think Harken did it?” Stupid question. She just couldn’t get her mind to work properly. Of course he did. Killed Serena, left Andros to take the rap, then came back when it was obvious Faye didn’t believe it and tried to control her. As he’d done before. Nick’s cell phone rang, jolting her into awareness. He answered it. “Someone’s called the police.” “Hardly surprising.” Andros sounded more together than she felt. Just as well someone was. “Someone must have heard the gunshot.” Serena was wearing indoor clothes. She must have a coat somewhere. With renewed purpose, Faye stood up again and took in the details of the room. An olivegreen raincoat hung on the back of the door. She had no compunction taking it after she’d searched the pockets. Empty. She slipped out of Andros’ coat and donned the better-fitting garment. When she’d tucked the scarf hanging with it into her neckline, she looked almost normal. “We can tell them I took my shoes off when they got marked with blood.” She’d lost them during the shape-shift. “Wait.” Nick looked outside the room, murmured to someone there. It sounded conciliatory, although she couldn’t hear the words. When he returned, he had her shoes in his hand. A little scorched, but not too badly damaged. “I came with another agent. She’s watching the hallway.” Faye slipped on the flat ballet-style shoes, savoring their familiar contours and, although she felt far from normal, at least she looked better. She wouldn’t have to greet the cops half naked. Somehow, that mattered. “Tell the truth,” Nick said. “Don’t lie, but don’t tell them anything they don’t need to know.” She was glad he’d said that, because she’d decided she wouldn’t lie for anyone or anything about this. She wanted this to end and lies wouldn’t get that done. Better to have the police on their side. A rap on the door heralded the cops’ arrival. They didn’t bother to wait for a summons to enter. Faye reached for Andros’ hand. Surprised that the police had arrived before STORM, she was even less impressed when she saw the two shabbily dressed men who came in. But their eyes were sharp, their gazes sweeping around the room as they entered, taking everything in. Nick introduced himself as a STORM agent and explained he’d been working with Serena, also an agent. The men nodded and gave their own names. Detectives Abrahams and Holstadt. They wore their shields on their jackets. “And you are…?” Abrahams asked, with a jerk of his sharp chin. 76
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“Faye McCauley. I’m a lecturer here. And this is Andros Zelinski, a doctoral student.” Andros drew a heavy breath. “We’re STORM agents too. Working on a case with Serena. I arrived first. I saw her then heard the shot. It came from behind me.” “She’s pretty dead.” Holstadt crossed to the desk and stared at Serena. “Did you see her attacker?” “Possibly.” She gestured in the direction of the body on the floor. “Unless there were two of them. I heard the trigger go back and I knocked it out of his hand.” She paused. “And I burned him. I killed him.” All the vigor, the identity had gone from Nordheim. He was truly the body rather than a man. Andros curved his arm around her waist, hugging her close as the tears she’d been fending off finally arrived. “He threatened us. He could have killed us both.” He sounded grim. She buried her head against his shoulder, a wave of shuddering sobs racking her body. He held her close, made her feel absurdly safe in the shelter of his arms. “I’ll come with you.” “I was going to suggest that.” Holstadt’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “We have a room prepared especially for you.” Abrahams spoke. “I’ll stay and wait for the others to get here.” The people who’d take away the bodies, the forensics people, or whatever they were called these days. Were they really called CSI officers, or was that an invented name? Then the STORM agents arrived and the arguments started. In the end Faye was glad to get away, but it didn’t happen until nearly midnight. She’d worn Serena’s coat all that time, the officers not giving her a chance to change into the clothes the agents had brought for her. They put her into a room with one of those telltale huge mirrors. She didn’t know who stood on the other side and she didn’t want to give them a free show. While Talents understood the difference between nude and naked, mortals didn’t. They questioned her for hours but she stayed as calm as she could, answering only what she had to. She’d wept all the way to the station and then found the strength to control herself, to remain as calm as she could. She settled into a kind of numb awareness, answering questions. “You can go now.” Holstadt scraped his chair back, got to his feet and crossed the room to the door, opening it wide. The lawyer STORM had sent for her stood too. “It’s fairly obvious Ms. McCauley acted in self-defense. So I take it you’ll be letting us know?” “Yeah.” Holstadt gave a wry grin. “Don’t leave town.” She glared at him. “I’ll be at work, or home. Or at STORM.” That was where they took her. Where Andros was waiting, in a much more comfortable room, albeit another conference room, with a pot of hot coffee and a plate of sandwiches.
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How she could feel hungry she didn’t know, but she devoured her share and drank the freshly made brew, so different from the coffee she’d forced down at the station. She needed that caffeine jolt. Nick sprawled in a chair and nodded to her, one colleague to another. Ann gave her a thin smile. For once, her face showed the evidence of strain, the fine lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes deeper, creases between her brow as she gave them the bad news. “It’s unlikely that Professor Nordheim killed Serena Duval. We still have a killer out there.” “Oh shit.” The others must have known, because they watched her, waited for her reaction. She swore and picked up another sandwich. She wasn’t entirely surprised, as she’d seen once before the results of a close-up shooting by vintage weapon, the kind that Nordheim had used on her. And when she’d first entered Serena’s office, she hadn’t scented the distinctive odor of black powder but Serena had been shot all the same. She hadn’t voiced her concerns to the police. It might have revealed just how much she knew about weapons of the Old West. “I want the mission to continue. There are obviously other people out there left to discover.” Ann sighed. “Johann wants to come back, but he’s been working nonstop for the past six months and I’d prefer to give him some downtime.” Andros gave a curt nod. “If you want to pull out, I’ll make other arrangements,” Ann told them. She still wore one of her power suits, even though it was nearly one a.m. She appeared immaculate. Faye was beginning to tire of the perfection of the women she met these days. She grabbed another sandwich. “No way do I want to stop,” she said. “I’m in the best position. Put somebody else in and they’ll work for months to get where I am now.” Not to mention the personal scores she wanted to settle. She wanted to be able to sleep at night. She wanted to know who killed Serena, why Harken had done what he had. Ann nodded. “But this has shaken you.” “It’s supposed to,” she said. “But I’ve seen it before.” “When?” The woman was too sharp, not giving her any respite. “My parents. They were murdered.” Andros heard Faye’s statement with a dull sense of wonder. After a day as exhausting, as traumatic as this one, he felt battered and shaken up as badly as he could ever remember being. This operation was going wrong, fast. He’d sat in on enough missions, acted as research and backup to know the difference between smooth-flowing as opposed to “Ohshitohshitohshit”. They were somewhere between the two, but the murders had affected him badly. He hadn’t known Serena well, but that didn’t mean he didn’t mourn her or feel impotent fury at her unpredictable and untimely death. He did both, sorrow hollowing him out, fury filling him up again, and remembered terror
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when he’d seen Nordheim aim that gun at Faye giving him a depth of despair he never wanted to experience again. Besides, he had to comfort and care for her now. He couldn’t think of himself. Mustn’t. If he did, he might blow. Too many shocks too close together over the last year, and then the conversion. He wasn’t sure where he was, what he was doing anymore. He was in the process of changing into a different person. Fuck, a different being. And now this. He listened to her story in a state of disbelief. “I came home from school one day and they were just gone,” she said. “In those days nobody knew about Talents, so I was fostered out with a mortal family after my parents disappeared. I knew I’d be a dragon, both my biological parents had been and I was their only child. So when I reached puberty, I had my first shape-shift. I scared the shit out of them. My foster parents sent me away, even though they’d wanted to adopt me before.” She swallowed. “Then the police discovered what had happened to my parents when someone stumbled on the bodies. Or what was left of them. They’d been murdered the same night they disappeared, or shortly afterward. Shot. We lived in Michigan, and there was a lot of land out back of our farmhouse.” She glanced at Andros, revealing for one telling moment the hurt she was bottling up inside. He knew, he could sense it, but while she told the story she was shutting him out too. He tried not to take it personally. She could do without trouble from him too, but he couldn’t deny his hurt. She turned her attention back to Ann. “From the vicious way they were killed, I’ve always suspected that the anti-Talent people had something to do with it. My mother was a loving spirit and she’d shared her secret with some of her friends.” “So you think someone there killed her.” He was glad Ann said that. Words were choking him right now. He shoved his hands in his pocket and felt something he didn’t recognize. He drew it out and then immediately dropped it back in. Shit, he’d picked up that fucking watch, the one on Serena’s desk. He’d think about it later. Too much to cope with right now. Faye swallowed. “I’m sure someone did. You know how it goes in small communities. Mom’s friend Susie told her friend Carole, and Carole was the sister of Joyce Cardross. And Joyce was married to the chief of police. He didn’t like my parents, and he ran our town as if it belonged to him.” “You know it for sure? That he killed them?” Ann demanded sharply. She shook her head. “I never found any proof. I left town after my foster parents disowned me and I lived nearby, in the woods for a while. I didn’t know what to do. So I saw them dig up my parents. When I realized there was no reason for me to stay, I went into a big city. Lost myself. But I know from reading the newspapers about the case that the bullets that killed them came from a vintage Colt. Cardross was the only man in town with a vintage gun collection. He used to boast that he was as good a shot with an old army Colt as he was with his standard issue firearm. He used to practice in the woods, and I’d hear him and shudder. I never liked the sound, even then. It would
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be like him to prove what he said. But I never went back. I promised myself I wouldn’t.” She dropped her head. It sagged forward before she jerked it back up but that second of exhaustion wasn’t lost on Andros. He yearned to hold her but he understood her need to appear strong. Ann touched her hand before she withdrew it. “And this business is bringing it back for you?” Faye shook her head. “Not exactly. Except when I heard the shot, smelled the discharge and saw that gun in Nordheim’s hand. He had a vintage weapon.” “She’s right,” Nick put in. “The cops have it now. A strange choice of weapon.” “Not unusual, though. Plenty of people have collections,” Andros said. He collected vintage games consoles. Other people collected guns. “I don’t know.” Ann leaned back and opened her desk drawer. She drew out a CD. “This is the record of an old case, from before Talents were outed. Several Talents were tracked and killed, all with bullets from vintage weapons that mostly dated to the nineteenth century. We never solved that one, it’s still on the books. Maybe they’re starting again. Maybe it’s a coincidence.” “Maybe it isn’t,” Nick said. Ann tapped the CD. “I’ll make sure you get a copy, Andros.” Her eyes narrowed when she looked at Faye. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you left, it would come as a setback. But you’re not indispensible. If you need out, tell me now and I’ll put somebody else in your place.” Faye shook her head. “I want to know what’s going on. End it for sure and kill all the ghosts. I’ll be fine.” “Nordheim’s operation is bigger than we thought,” Ann said. “The police alerted us to a crate at LaGuardia today. It was heading upstate and it had a vampire in it. A student from Speke University, to be precise. Alive, though deeply traumatized. The abductors are still active, and I want the bastards.” Ann gave her attention to Andros. He wished she wouldn’t. A feeling crept over him, from low down. He wasn’t going to like what she said next. “Andros, it’s getting too dangerous for you to go in as you are now. You’re new to the field and you don’t have the skills that will keep you hidden. You don’t have the knack of keeping your cover consistent, either physically or mentally. So if we’re to use you in this mission, you have two choices. You can stay at STORM and provide the backup we need, or you can go into the field. But if you do that, you’ll either have to become what you’re claiming to be or you’ll have to get out.” “How?” he demanded. Yes, sure, he’d dropped his cover in Serena’s office. “And who said so? Is there someone else there?”
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Ann grimaced. “I can’t tell you. But I was informed by a reliable source. It doesn’t have anything to do with this case, just someone I know at the university who noticed the inconsistencies and worried about it. We need constancy, Andros.” “What about Faye? She’s not seen as a Talent in the university.” Ann glanced at Faye. “Her cover is solid. Likely because she’s been doing it a lot longer than you.” “I won’t stop now,” Faye said. “I can’t. I have to see this through, find out who’s doing those hateful things to students and staff. I enabled Nordheim to carry on his activities, and even though it isn’t my fault, I want to make amends.” “Then I won’t come in, either.” He wanted to care for her. Protect her. Fuck, he needed to do it. “I thought you’d say that.” The lines around Ann’s mouth deepened, and just from that tiny sign, he knew this was going to be bad. “We can temporarily disable you. As soon as you shape-shift, you’ll be cured, but if you can hold off, you’ll stay as you once were. That way, if people read you, they’ll see the disability, the real disability.” She was right, he knew she was right. He’d felt his mental cover slip several times today. If he’d been read by a hostile Talent, they’d realize he was hiding something and they’d take him. After today’s events, they’d be even more on the alert. “What do you want to do?” “We can simulate your condition with drugs and a small procedure. And they’ll have a lasting effect, so if you miss a few doses you won’t immediately be cured. And, of course, you have to take cephalox.” “Why?” “If you shape-shift, you’ll revert the procedure. You’ll be whole again. And although you’ve only been a shape-shifter for a short time, you still have that instinct. You contact your dragon several times a day, whether you realize it or not, and you have the shape-shifter’s instinct to change your form in trouble. Even the thought will alert anyone who has a decent level of telepathy. The drugs will suppress your sigil too.” So he couldn’t shape-shift, even if he wanted to. That scared him, hollowed his stomach then filled it with bile. It scared him a lot, but what could he do? If Faye was going back, then so would he. “Do you really think it’s necessary?” “If you want to stay in the field. You’ll still have telepathy, but that’s all.” Mortals had telepathy, but normally it was dormant. More of them were working to bring the gift out, to develop it so they could communicate with Talents and each other. If anyone discovered that ability in him, he could explain it away. Only one thing remained. “And I can be useful like that?” Ann fixed him with one of her direct stares. He couldn’t look away. “Your skills for STORM have never been those of your Talent. They’ve been the skills of the mind. You can make links like nobody else, not even our other hot researcher, Jack Hargreaves,
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who isn’t currently available in any case. You have a devious mind, Andros, you make cases that way. You don’t miss a trick. And that’s what I want you there for. To make the patterns, to penetrate deep. You’ll be with Faye, who will act as your bodyguard. From now on you and Faye are a team. I want this group rooted out, completely destroyed, and I need someone like you for that.” “Won’t it be dangerous to leave me vulnerable?” He was still fighting but he knew she was right. And he wanted to get the fucks who’d killed Serena if it wasn’t Nordheim. He wanted that badly. “Sure it will,” Ann said, “but we’ll do our best to avert that. No, Nick will be the bait. He’s replacing Serena in her job, but he is going to be fully and blatantly what he is. If they want a Talent, they’ll go for him.” “Just watch the skies when I arrive for work,” Nick rumbled.
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Chapter Seven Faye preferred not to think about the coming night, but she’d never shirked any responsibility before. And staying with Andros was more than a responsibility—it was a necessity. Before Andros went in for the procedure, she had the chance of a private moment with him. Only a short time, while the local anesthetic was taking effect. “You shouldn’t do this. You can’t. Staying at STORM will be better.” He gripped her hand tight but kept his mind steady. “I’ve been through procedures before, and I spent most of my life worse than this. I’m not going to suffer constant pain and live with the knowledge that I’ll die young. With a single bound, I can be free. Well, a couple of bounds, maybe.” That had probably made him older than his years, despite her initial thought that he appeared younger. Her admiration for him and what he had done went up threefold. Tenfold. “You were so brave.” He laughed. “That’s what they always used to say. It’s not true. I just learned how to cope with something I couldn’t change. Sure, I got desperate and did some stupid things looking for a cure. But I always knew it would get me. The only thing you can do is to live each day to its utmost. Bravery is facing something you don’t have to face, choosing to do it.” He closed his mouth with a snap. “Just like I said, only I’ll change the tense. You are brave.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss her. That was when they’d come to take him into surgery. Despite his words, she couldn’t imagine how he’d coped. But an hour after he’d woken from the procedure and dutifully taken the drugs that the medics gave him, he lost the ability to walk without aid. He could stand briefly, drag himself around on crutches, even take a couple of steps if he steadied himself on a piece of furniture, but he couldn’t walk. It hurt to see the strong, confident lover she’d known turn into a physical wreck, but she understood his determination and admired him with a depth of devotion that would have shocked him, had she let him know. He insisted on recovering on his own, and while his decision had hurt her, she understood. He needed time to cope with the change and he wanted to set his mind to it. Best done alone. At just after four a.m. the doctor came out of the room after his final check. “You can go in now.” They’d used an iso room, one of those white rooms that were completely cut off from the world, after they’d come back from their trip to the hospital. No psi contact,
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and with the door sealed, no physical contact, either. He’d asked for it, so he could recover in complete solitude. That was a sign that some of the mortal thinking still remained. Talents detested solitude, but mortals sometimes sought it. She felt his pain as soon she walked into the room, felt it when she closed the door even more. Physical and mental. Brave again, to let her see it, let her view his vulnerability. He caressed her mind in welcome. “I wish I’d had telepathy before. It’s very useful for a cripple.” “I hate it when you call yourself that.” His mouth twisted as he tried to smile and didn’t make it. “It means other people can’t call me a cripple first. I’m used to it. And it’s what I am.” “It’s cruel. Ann Reynolds shouldn’t do this to you.” Perhaps she’d been right all along about STORM. He shook his head. “No, she’s right. This is what I am, deep down. I’ve been a dragon for less than a year. Before that, I had the mindset of a dying man. I still have in some ways. I have a morbid sense of humor, I work like every day is my last. I still brace myself on my arms before I stand. Or hadn’t you noticed?” “No.” Too busy ogling him, sharing abandoned lovemaking with him. Yes, even that was the act of a man who knew his tomorrows were limited. So in a way he was right. She recognized the phenomenon. Knew it to be true. “So Ann made you what you were.” “Because it fits. Don’t get me wrong, with one shape-shift I can shake this off. I persuaded them to reduce the cephalox they’ve given me to the bare minimum. It’s fantastic knowing that. The mild dose of cephalox is enough to make it hard to convert, so I really have to mean it. They don’t realize that shape-shifting is the oddity for me. I have to think hard every time I shape-shift.” He shrugged and winced. She felt his twinge of pain. “Having Becker’s is more than not being able to walk. It affects all the body, weakens the muscles, makes it hard to retain control. Look.” He lifted his hand from the arm of his chair. It trembled before he put it back. “The drugs cause that. And because I had the condition, I have the mindset that goes with it. The people we’re looking for won’t believe I’m a shape-shifter, and they won’t take me seriously. So although I work at STORM, they’ll believe I’m mortal, that I’m what I seem to be.” “I can’t bear it.” He sighed and held out his hand to her. She took it, sat on the hard plastic chair set next to him and shoved aside the cradle holding the bag that had pumped poison into his veins. Only a bandage stuck across the back of his hand showed where it had entered his body. She grasped his hand. It felt the same. “I’ll hack into the university computer system,” he told her. “There are teams here looking at Serena’s pupil list, especially the students she tutored. They’ll send me a list.”
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And I’ll have you. The most gorgeous bodyguard a man could ever wish for.” He leaned in for a kiss. That felt the same too and when she opened her mouth for him, he took advantage, tasting her at his leisure. She returned the favor. He tasted slightly different, but still Andros, still this remarkable man she was letting in so deep she didn’t know if she’d ever be happy without him. He drew back. “Pass me the crutches, will you?” He got to his feet with the help of the table. It squeaked. She turned away and grabbed the crutches she’d brought down from his apartment, handing them to him and watching as he deftly pushed his forearms into the cuffs and balanced. He stared at her. He seemed shorter like this, his stance adjusted to account for the nearly useless legs. But he was still Andros. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said very softly. “We might have to pretend to be together, but don’t feel you have to.” “I don’t.” She kissed him again. Because she wanted to. He kissed her back, although he pulled away again. He stared at her, his eyes wide. So blue, as if he held the world in there. “Thanks. But—” “Shut up.” She curled her hand around the back of his neck and dragged him closer, preparing to bear all his weight if she took him off balance. Close, he felt strong, warm, perfect. Her mouth met his and she didn’t care anymore. Not for anyone or anything outside this room. She touched his lips with her tongue, traced the shape and he opened as if he could do nothing else. She tasted him, slowly, carefully, slid her tongue along his, circled it, caressed it. And eventually he responded. Caressed her back, let her explore his mouth while he explored hers. He cupped the back of her head, his crutch clanging against the table disregarded by both of them. When she kissed Andros, she felt perfection touch her. Sweet, delicious, and she needed nothing else. Everything she’d done in her life, the restlessness that had chased her down the years, disappeared when she kissed him, when he touched her. So good. She didn’t want to stop but they couldn’t stay here much longer. They separated slowly and he brought his hand down, propping his support against the floor. “They’ll come in soon,” he murmured. “They’ll ask me if I’m all right, if they can do anything for me, get me a meal, help me to my apartment. They do that when you’re disabled. They don’t understand. But you do, don’t you?” “That you’re scared you’ll grow dependent too soon? You’ll need people to do things for you? Yes, I know.” “How?” “I lost my parents when I was ten. Everyone was very kind when they disappeared, so kind I wanted to scream at them, tell them to get the hell away from me. It’s like that, isn’t it?”
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“Something like that.” In perfect accord, they left the room. They couldn’t hold hands but they moved together when the doctor asked him if he’d be okay, and Ann asked him if he wanted her to call a catering service and have a meal sent. They assured everyone they’d be fine and they went together to his apartment. The minute he closed the door, Andros let out a long sigh of relief. “Weird,” he said. “But this feels normal.” She turned in the act of going through the hallway to the bathroom. “You spent most of your life like this. Just go with the flow. I thought I’d pour you a bath.” He grinned. ”Bless you. But I really want a shower. Just water pouring over me. There’s a chair in the bathroom, a plastic one. Can you put it in the shower stall?” She did as he asked, her heart aching for him. He’d lived like this, knowing he had little chance of a cure. He’d seen his sister transform into a powerful being, a change that would have cured him and yet, when he spoke of her or even thought of her, she’d never detected jealousy or resentment. She didn’t know if she could have kept that completely away, in the same circumstances. She turned around to see him propped against the doorway, a silver-topped cane supporting his weakened legs. He glanced at the ebony stick with a silver dragon sitting on top, its tail wound around the wood several times and ending in a crystal that caught the bright light. “A present from my sister before I turned dragon. Prophetic, don’t you think?” “Except dragons don’t usually have tails that long. But it’s beautiful.” “I have several. Also several pairs of decorated crutches and a couple of wheelchairs. One is state of the art. I thought of donating it to a worthy cause, but maybe it’s just as well I didn’t.” He stepped forward carefully, placing his foot and then testing it before he leaned into the step. He used the cane to support his body weight on the other side of the foot he put his weight on. He was an expert at this. Using the wall to lean against, he drew the T-shirt off and tossed it aside. She stared at him, lost in contemplation of his wonderful, supple body. Not so supple now, but still beautiful. “Were you—I mean—” He glanced down at his body and gave a short laugh. “I’d like to think you meant was I always this ripped. The answer’s yes, in the upper body. You need strength to drag the useless bits around. My legs—not so much, but I had physiotherapy and massage to help keep them going.” He undid his belt and unzipped his jeans, kept his attention on that. “I kept my legs as strong as I could, and my arms. Becker’s often affects the extremities first, so all the typing and gaming helped. And it kept my mind off things.” He lifted his chin and stared at her. “I can manage now, if that’s what you’re waiting for. Why don’t you make us some coffee?”
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She felt dismissed. Hurt, she turned to leave, but changed her mind. “I’ll make us coffee later. You don’t have to accept anything I offer you, but I want this to affect as little as possible about us.” He gave her a smile much older than his years. Weary and knowing. She hated that he’d learned how to do that. She ached for him. “Oh, but it does. I need help when I get up in the night to piss, or I need to remember to have everything ready. I need ramps, elevators, a living area on one level. People make a fuss to ensure I can access a building, rooms, and they stare, although they try not to.” “Mortals stare at anyone who’s different.” He paused and gazed at her. “Fuck, I’m a whiny bitch, aren’t I? The other side effect is feeling too sorry for yourself. Of course you know. Did they guess you were a Talent? Other than the people your mother told?” She shrugged. “I think Joyce Cardross told most people, although not all of them believed her and I never let anyone see my monthly shape-shifts. People pointed and stared. I said I didn’t care, but I was a kid—of course I did.” She shrugged again and knelt at his feet. “I got over it.” She got rid of his jeans and underwear with a tug, and dragged off his socks to join the pile of discarded clothing. Then she took his face between her hands and planted a kiss on his mouth. “That’s for being utterly gorgeous. Now let me help you into the shower.” “Are you joining me? I can’t reach every part of me.” “Now that is a come-on I can’t resist.” She held steady when he leaned on her so he could take the two steps into the shower. It was a walk-in shower, the only difference between the floor of the bathroom a small drain and a change of color in the tiles. He’d had this apartment when he was still disabled, and he could have climbed in on his own with ease. He sat on the plastic chair and leaned back to switch on the water. It cascaded on him from the spider showerhead above, anointing his body with rivulets of trickling liquid that she longed to lick off him. Later. She promised herself the treat for later. She stripped quickly, all the time aware of his gaze warming her body, wondering what else the drugs had affected. She turned around from dropping her panties on the pile of discarded clothes and caught him licking his lips. Putting one hand on her hip, she sauntered toward him. “Oh yeah? Hungry, are we?” The expression in his gaze told her he was. “For one thing. For you. Come here and let me taste you before I starve to death.” If she’d imagined that his temporary condition would have any effect on his libido, she’d have been wrong. His cock rose, pointing at her with the eagerness of a favorite dog needing a walk. Well as far as she was concerned, it needed all the exercise she could give it. Of course he was still hot. He was Andros. The only thing that surprised her was that she felt like this for anyone at all. She’d never given herself completely in a
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relationship before, never let anyone control their play as she did him. Never given anyone her heart, and she was perilously close to doing that. He sat back in his chair, opening his legs, tacitly inviting her to play. She needed no other invitation. She stepped into the shower, feeling the change in texture under her feet, from smooth tile to nubbed, non-slip surface, and enjoyed the sensation of hot water playing on her body. She stepped over him and straddled his thighs but took care not to touch. He stared up at her face then took in the rest of her body, his gaze slowly descending from her hardening nipples to her pussy, wet from more than water. Only then did he lift one hand and touch her. The tip of her clit. She sucked in a breath and gave a moan when he pinched it, then rubbed, unerringly waking her body. She bent her legs, intending to lower her body onto his, but he placed a hand on her thigh, preventing her. “Lean over me. Let me taste you like you promised I could.” Oh God. Fuck, yes. She shuffled closer until she felt his breath warm her cleft. He was looking. Knowing that, knowing he could arouse her like nobody else ever had sent sparks through her. Steam rose from the water but she felt as if she were making it. Her body heated from the inside out. He kept rubbing her clit, murmuring to her that she was beautiful, that he could smell how aroused she was. “I’d know you from your perfume alone. In the dark. Anywhere. Better than anything else.” He licked her, taking her essence into his mouth, sucking it in, savoring it. “Mmm.” Faye tipped her head back to let the water pour over her face. And he tasted her, sucked and caressed. His mouth took over from his fingers and the sensation was so exquisite she knew she’d never get enough. She had to lock her knees in position or she would have fallen over him. Spreading her hands out blindly, she felt the cool tiled wall on one side and she set her palm against it with gratitude. He teased her with light, fleeting kisses and laps of his tongue, not settling on her clit or her pussy. Tasting, not drinking. “Oh God, Andros, please, please, just do it!” She heard his voice in her head. And wreck a perfect end to a shitty day? Take it, baby, and quit complaining. The laughter in his tone warmed her more than the water. Not as much as his tongue. And she liked him calling her “baby”. She’d always hated that before. Oh fuck, she couldn’t think straight now. He gripped her thigh and urged her closer. She obeyed only too eagerly, pressing her pussy against his mouth, opening her thighs wide so he could get to every part of her. He slipped his hand around to her buttocks, cupped one cheek and held on. She felt his fingers pressed into the soft flesh and wanted the imprint of his fingers on her. A reminder. One finger slipped into the cleft between her butt cheeks and stayed there. A thrill went right up her spine, blossoming in her mind. And when he finally opened his mouth and sucked her clit in, his forefinger settled over her anus.
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She’d never enjoyed that, either, but if she told him to stop, she’d never know. It took a measure of trust to let anyone touch her there, but she trusted Andros. Swallowing, she moved closer, bending her legs a little to push her pussy over his face, grind it into him. He chuckled and sucked, sending waves of exquisite sensation through her body, warming her stomach, making her lungs burn, her mind cry out for him. She managed his name, choked it out as he worked her. He spread his fingers, kept his forefinger on her backside, but slid his pinkie down until it touched her wet opening. It felt wide open and she wanted him there. Wanted to sink down on him until she engulfed his cock, give him some of the torture he was meting out to her. Never had torture felt so good. With a flex of his fingers, he slipped inside. Both openings breached, with him teasing and sucking her clit, his tongue curving around the delicate, erect flesh and loving it. She sent him all the pleasure she had, shared the pleasure and then the torture of hovering on the brink, the agonizing, wonderful few seconds before the inevitable happened. He pushed in her pussy with his thumb and her anus with his pinkie and then he sucked her clit in short, hard bursts. The devilish movements had her gasping, and then that tiny immeasurable moment when everything came together, just before— “Oh fuck, oh God!” She held herself upright by sheer will, her hand pressing desperately against the wall as everything inside combusted, melted and eventually, after an untold time, reformed. Slowly her vision returned. She blinked, focusing on her lover. Andros stared up at her, blond hair slicked to his skull, blue eyes hot. Waiting for her to come back to him. She put her hands on the back of his chair and bent her knees, slowly lowering her body onto his. “Your turn.” “Oh yeah. Do me now.” She stopped, hovering above his cock, letting its tip graze her pussy. For the moment she was sated, although she still wanted him inside her, just not as desperately as she had a moment before. “Why should I?” “Because you want me?” “You want me more.” To prove her point, she leaned in and kissed him, making it long, slow and wet. But not pushing down. He tried by lifting his body, the effort straining his shoulder muscles, but sat back with a groan. In his weakened condition, he couldn’t do it. But she could see from his eyes that he loved it, reveled in her teasing. He released her lips gradually, gently and leaned back. “Do it.” “Why? Tell me.” “Because I want you to. Because I want you so much right now.” Not because he needed her, not because she should feel sorry for him. This was how it should be
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between them, how it always would be. A smile curved her mouth, reflecting the warmth and understanding he’d brought to her. But warmth and understanding weren’t what she wanted right now. She wanted what he wanted. Without warning, careful to keep her intent out of her thoughts, she sank down on his cock, not stopping until her ass touched his thighs. Watching his face, she saw his pupils contract to pinpoints then expand, swallowing the bright blue. He blinked, and then she rose and sank down again. They sighed in mutual pleasure. He slid one hand over her back, up her spine, and she felt more than his hand caressing her. The poignant scent of lavender wreathed around her. He grinned at her surprise. “When you have showers sitting down, you need everything within reach.” He leaned forward to kiss her, making it sweet this time, until she opened her mouth and licked his lips. Then he growled and dragged her close, treating her to lips, tongue and teeth, which she returned in full measure. He slid his soapy hand along her spine, shaping her muscles, helping her rhythmic rise and fall. She leaned back, drawing away from the kiss, and found a new spot inside her with a different though equally delicious sensation. Every time she rose, his cock skimmed over her sweet spot, the best part. It grew hard to concentrate so she set the rhythm, not trying anything tricky. She left that to him. He re-soaped his hand, transferred some of the suds to his other hand and rubbed her, smoothing her muscles, easing the tension she hadn’t realized she felt before he’d put his hands on her. Neither did she realize she was making small “mmm” sounds until he echoed her and urged her upper body closer so he could lick and suck on her nipples. He kissed a ring around one areola, glanced up at her and sucked it in, watching her all the time, his dark, blue-rimmed eyes missing nothing. You’re delicious. Come for me again, Faye. Come for yourself. Her first spasm came out of the blue. The second convulsed her in hard, racking contractions, violent pulses of orgasm taking over all her senses, rocketing her to a place where he joined her. Their groans mingled, echoing around the room, and her final cry of “Andros!” rang out. They held each other, their bodies trembling in the aftermath of their shared release. Faye had never felt closer to anyone before in her life. She hadn’t known it was possible to be this close to anyone before she’d met him. Was she in trouble. She never, ever wanted this to end. Already she knew she wanted him with a hopelessness she couldn’t let him know about. Not if she wanted to retain herself, her character. Her independence. She was still in the dreaming flow of the orgasm as he turned off the water and grabbed a towel before rubbing them down vigorously. “I don’t know if you realized, but the water’s going cold. We’ve been here a long time, sweetheart.”
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She gave a shaky laugh and found a towel too, scrubbing at his hair until it stood in damp spikes. “You’re not supposed to get cold.” “One more thing before we climb between the sheets.” When he winced, she doubted anyone else would have known it, but she sensed it and got to her feet. “I’m too heavy for you,” she said. “Never.” She helped him to his feet but with the help of his cane he went into the bedroom on his own, a towel slung around his suddenly slender-looking hips. The drugs seemed to have pulled flesh from his bones. “You look thinner,” she said. He switched on the bedside light and sat down before propping his cane on the nightstand. “Did I feel thinner just now?” “No.” He didn’t. He felt as strong and lithe as she’d ever known him. “It’s the devil’s work.” He gave a short laugh. “Or rather, it’s the work of a Sorcerer, who planted certain suggestions in me—with my permission. She said it was what they used to call a glamor. A bit like fuzzing. People will see me as smaller, slimmer. Paler.” “I never thought of you as particularly tan. But not pale either.” “Naturally pale skin plus years in L.A. leads to something almost normal.” He shrugged. “Come to bed. Let me show you my drugs.” How could she resist an invitation like that? She couldn’t, but after she’d learned which of the three bottles of pills he had to take and when, she tossed them back in the drawer and found something far more interesting to do.
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Chapter Eight Find out who killed Serena. Stop them. Find out who was killing Talents with antique weapons. Andros tried to keep his two objectives clear in his head, but something kept messing it up. Faye. He wanted her out of danger, but he knew she’d reject any attempt to get her clear. Surely someone else could do it. It did mean he got to see her every day, but it messed with his head that he couldn’t care for her as he wanted to. Because he was back to dragging himself around on crutches. Back to people staring at him, then looking away hastily. He thought he was used to it, but maybe not, because the sinking feeling in his stomach didn’t owe anything to the drugs he was taking. But he worked better at his doctoral project than he had for a while. Perhaps stress made him concentrate better. Whatever the reason, by lunchtime the following day he’d solved a few of the problems that had been puzzling him up to that point. He’d arranged to meet Faye in the largest cafeteria in the university to try to show himself to the biggest number of people, declaring their status as a couple and showing them what easy prey he could be. After he’d finished, he’d try to visit the suspect vampire group. Andros had taken a deep dislike to Sergiu. He shrugged and then winced. Those pills emulated his prior condition a bit too well. Everything hurt. Plunging back in to the disease he’d thought he’d left behind reminded him why he’d spent most of every day exhausted. But he couldn’t show it. Ever. Unless the mission demanded it. Andros swung up on to his crutches and headed for the cafeteria. People stared at him. Some looked away and some smiled. He smiled back when he could and kept the expression of affability on his features. Even if he hated the attention. He’d learned not to hate in the past—people were what they were. But he’d had a therapist then. He’d turned emo to help cope with that feeling. He’d gone the whole way, with the heavy, pitch-black hair, lashings of eyeliner, and suitably slashed, studded and otherwise decorated T-shirts and jeans. At least then he knew people would look at him, crutches or no. Ah, fuck it. He could hate if he wanted to. But his resentment dissipated as if it had never been when he stepped inside the cafeteria and saw Faye. She made everything better, even this. His smile turned genuine when he remembered last night. He hoped they could share similar ingenious solutions to his disability tonight. She looked up and their gazes locked. Everything else melted away, nothing else mattered. How did she do that? He made his way to her, heedless of the people who got out of his way where he’d usually have murmured his thanks.
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Faye was sitting with three other women. Moderately attractive. He’d certainly have been interested in them, were it not for Faye outshining them. He took her hand and tugged her to her feet for his kiss. At the same time he murmured deep in her mind, We’re being conspicuous, remember? Yes, but maybe with a little less tongue. He added some more, just to show her he could. And to enjoy her unique flavor. Nothing this cafeteria had to offer could compare with that. He drew away reluctantly and smiled at her companions as she introduced them. Rina, a curvy African American with stunning olive-green eyes. Lara, a burnished redhead, not a hair out of place. Blue eyes and a very short skirt, he couldn’t help noticing. Across the table sat Cathy, a blonde with dark roots, which was fashionable these days, for some reason he didn’t understand. But he was a man, what did he know? Pretty, though, her blue eyes smiling with her mouth. Not something that always happened. He’d seen plenty of empty smiles. The tables at this end of the room weren’t so crammed together. He’d often spent time here with a pot of coffee and a laptop, reveling in the life going on around him, but not recently. Not since he’d turned dragon. Maybe some habits were too good to give up. Faye gave a shaky laugh as she sat. He stayed on his feet. “Can I get anyone anything?” Rina’s olive eyes opened wider, enormous in her face. “N-no thank you. Do you want to sit and I’ll get you what you need?” He shook his head impatiently. “No. I’ll be fine.” He returned with a sandwich and a coffee on a tray. One of the staff had provided him with a small wheeled cart, but she’d done it discreetly, just pushed it to him as if she did it for every customer. Just how he liked it. He exchanged a couple of jokes with her before he took his path around the closely packed long tables to the smaller, more widely spaced ones at the end. Several people stared at him and this time he knew it wasn’t because of his crutches. It was that steamy kiss. Truly he’d only meant to give her a soft kiss of possession, but she did something to his libido. She did everything to his libido. He couldn’t feel sorry. Her embrace had lifted him out of his self-pity into happiness. Now he could look people in the eye, smile, and know that part of his problem was his introspection. Stupid mood to get into. He took his seat and propped the crutches next to him. “Had a good morning?” She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. A couple of students tried to catch me out, wanted to know if Dickens had a mistress. They thought I didn’t know. Maybe they thought I was dead from the neck down.” “They know better now,” Rina commented.
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Lara leaned back and pushed her salad plate away. From what was left, she’d hardly picked at it. “You could get into trouble.” She gave him a hard glance. “It’s against the rules to mix with students. Hell, it might be against the law.” Andros kept her stare while he finished his bite of sandwich. “Neither against the rules nor the law. I’m a doctoral student, postgraduate with an MA. And I’m not a member of the arts faculty. It’s all fine. I checked.” Lara humphed and fished a piece of green leaf from her salad, studying it as if she’d find the secrets of the world there. “Still, Faye’s students will know for sure that she knows all about mistresses.” “I should hope so.” He refused to allow the sour one to poison his mood. He had a lot to look forward to. And a job to do. Part of the reason for the kiss was to stake his claim, to see if anyone reacted. Because he had a theory, one he was still turning over in his mind. The old weapons—too much of a coincidence for his liking. He needed to discover how rare those particular weapons were—the navy Colt that had killed Faye’s parents and the Schofield Nordheim had used. Then he could work out some statistics, maybe construct a filter and find out how many collectors had both models. Narrow the field a bit. Find out which collectors were associated with cults or societies concerning Talents. He could think of several possibilities, and not all of them included Faye. There were some weird cults about, including the one that had nearly killed him last year. They loved Talents, centered their efforts on them in one way or another, wanting to worship them, experiment on them or just destroy them. Nordheim had sold them. He hoped the bastard would rot in hell for a very long time. “So when did you two meet?” Cathy grinned and reached for her coffee. “What’s the story? C’mon, Faye’s hardly told us anything.” That sounded more like it. He indulged her, telling the story they’d agreed on, that they’d met in the library when she’d offered to climb the footstool to get a book for him that was shelved too high. Then she’d told him about her class’ study of Dracula, then he’d taken her into STORM to meet a real-life vampire. That introduced STORM naturally into the conversation. “She thought I was a vampire,” he said with a grin. “I ask you, do I look like a vampire?” Rina shrugged. “I have no idea. To my knowledge I’ve never seen one. Unless I’m looking at one now and it was a double bluff?” His guffaw would have done Santa Claus proud. “Hardly. They’re usually a bit bigger than me, even by day.” “What are you then?” The question was extremely bad manners among Talents, but he couldn’t say he cared about etiquette right now. “I’m like you. Do you think I’d still be using these things if I had a Talent?” He touched the crutches, the metallic roughness marred by dents and scuffs, so familiar he could have put them on without looking. “I guess not. Then why don’t you get converted?”
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He kept the smile, although it grew somewhat stiff because he forced it. “It’s not that easy. Talents have a list, in case a Talent offers, kind of like organ donation. I’m on that.” Unless anyone had taken him off. He should really ensure his name wasn’t on it anymore. “I’m okay for a few years yet. And I want to finish my thesis.” “Can we ask what you’re doing?” He didn’t mind telling them. It was the techniques he was developing that he was keeping under wraps, not the item itself. “A keyboard, to start with. Something that paraplegics and quadriplegics can use their minds to control.” “Wow.” Cathy flicked back a wayward strand of hair. “Amazing. So you want to give them telepathy?” He gave a crack of laughter. “Not give it to them. Everybody has it. Do you realize that a few years ago we’d be laughed at as crackpots? But I don’t have to give people telepathy. We all have it. We just have to develop it.” “And you’ve done that?” “For sure.” To demonstrate, he touched their minds. The four women sitting around the table, no one else. The playful touch gave him a way in, and from there he could explore. So he gave them a tickle, a thrill. “Amazing.” Rina gave Faye a sly grin. “Now I’m starting to understand what you see in him.” He waggled his brows. “Go to a few classes. It’s like when Windows first came in— people thought it was hard until they went to a few classes or picked it up. Now we all have computers. Using telepathy could become common in a few years. It’s a technique, that’s all. Babies are all born with the ability to communicate telepathically, but only Talented parents help their kids develop the gift. For some reason the rest of us build a wall and block it out in the first month or so of life. But we can contact the sense, if we work at it. At least, most of us can.” “You really believe that?” Rina, bless her, the cynic. The world needed cynics. Just not an awful lot of them. “I know it. STORM sponsors classes for people who want them. Why don’t you put your name down?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.” He tickled her again, just for the hell of it. She looked startled, didn’t laugh. “That isn’t you.” Yes it is. He was delighted to startle a squeak of alarm out of her. Leave her alone. He grinned at Faye’s censorious tone. It’s fun. He paused. It’s also effective. She sighed and touched his hand where it lay on the table. They exchanged a smiling glance. She made him so happy. Simple happiness, an emotion people often
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denigrated or ignored. Fools. He sensed the tension in her and tried to ease it a little. Hey, we’re doing okay. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get you to myself for a while. He’d made her happy, saying that. He felt it. Fuck, they were getting in deep. And he couldn’t feel sorry about it. Faye worried. She worried all the time, especially now he seemed so vulnerable. She watched him shake out a few pills, blue ones, white ones, and toss them back with a practiced hand. He swallowed them with a bare sip of coffee. Then answered the girls’ questions about his condition and the pills as if he still had the mentality of a disabled person. In a way, he did. Maybe he always would, and maybe that could be a strength. It brought him understanding and a gentleness belied by his lean but powerful figure, one only she could see properly right now. She felt the gentle, persuasive effect of fuzzing, recognized it as other Talents here today would, if he directed it at them. But he was doing something very clever, something Talents had developed to a fine art. People saw what they expected to see when they looked at Andros. If they expected him to have thin wrists, wasted muscles, then he’d have them. A sense of fragility that was more than physical wreathed him too. But he’d spread the news in the most effective way, in the busy cafeteria at the most crowded time of the day. He worked at STORM and he was weak, someone who might be approached if anyone wanted anything from STORM. Or if anyone wanted to attack STORM. They could use Andros the cripple, the weak spot, the man with a high security clearance because of the computer work he did—he managed to slip that into the conversation too. She worried about him, that someone would attack him. If she were attacked, she’d go immediately into dragon mode, have to force herself not to shape-shift if it wasn’t appropriate. Andros would have to think about the shape-shift and work hard to force it, due to the cephalox in his system. That split second could cost him. And her. Especially with someone who loved old weapons running around. She had her own ideas about that but she needed to research some before she could put it forward as a definite possibility. Just as well she was dating someone who knew exactly how to do that research. After conversation turned to the shocking events of the last few days, she took a backseat and listened. Yes, the professor’s sudden turnabout had appalled everyone. But nobody knew about the murder yesterday, at least no one was talking about it. That room had been shut off with some excuse about the heating, and the investigating officers had come in the small hours and done their work. Later today, Nick would arrive in style and take that office, or one nearby. A temporary replacement for the position Nordheim, and then Serena, had left vacant. That should take attention away from Andros and Serena. Nothing like a roc on the roof to distract people. 96
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***** After work, Andros came to her office and after a kiss or two, ones she’d thirsted for all afternoon, they went to her small car. Andros leaned back and closed his eyes while Faye put his crutches in the back seat. She took the driver’s seat and strapped herself in then glanced at him, waiting for him to follow suit. He let out a deep breath and put his hands on his knees, gripping them tightly. “I hate using my condition like this.” He turned his head and snared her gaze in his, blue eyes capturing her in laserbeam sharpness. “It was true, at least some of it. I was in a wheelchair, but I was close to dying. It was killing Ania to watch me, so I didn’t let her know just how bad I was. Only one person realized. The person who converted me.” She searched her mind, but couldn’t recall who that was. She raised a brow in query. “Ricardo Gianetti’s partner, Kristen Turner. She guessed but I made her keep my secret. Later, it was let me die or convert me. I’ll always be grateful to her, even though she made the final decision on her own.” He smiled when she gasped. Conversion had to be with the permission of both parties, not just one. “I was in no state to speak, but she knew I wanted it. So now you know about all the important women in my life. Ania, my sister, Kristen, the woman who saved my life—and now you.” He reached for her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Faye melted. “You don’t know me,” she protested. “You can’t know if I’m important or not.” “Yes I can.” He smiled. “Don’t disappoint me. And throw your cell away. Now.” “What?” He grimaced. “Sorry. I got a call from Ann this afternoon, asking you to do it. She’ll send you a new cell, but you were close to Nordheim, so she doesn’t want to take any chances with you.” “Chances how?” “You can be tracked by your SIM. Mine is protected, and she’ll send you a similar one. GPS is blocked, unless we choose to enable it.” “And now I’m an agent, albeit a temporary one, I have to toe the line?” “Just get rid of your cell.” He gave her an apologetic grin. She took out her phone, removed the SIM card and exited the car to drop the cell in a nearby trashcan. She thought about keeping it, but it wasn’t an expensive model and it might be better just to make sure. Then she broke the card into pieces and threw one of the bits away. She’d jettison the others from the car en route and give an offering to the gods of litter another time. She hadn’t gone to the lengths she had to be outed by a fucking cell phone. Back in the car, the moment was lost, for now. And she felt reluctant to pursue it here, in the unromantic setting of a car lot. 97
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Only when she’d pulled on to Fifth and passed several streets did he notice they were not going to STORM. “Do we have an errand?” “No,” she said. “I’m taking you to my place. As far as the university knows, I live in a tiny apartment in the Village. That’s my official address, but it’s not where I live.” “Wow.” He leaned back, smiling. “And you want to take me to your home?” “Yes.” Now more than ever. He watched the scenery as they turned at Washington Park and headed down toward her real address, in Tribeca. “I don’t know this part of New York at all.” “Not surprising. You live and work in the swanky part. This is different.” “You have two addresses yourself. I’d call that pretty swanky.” “I bought my loft apartment in the early seventies, when it was still a pretty rough area. It didn’t matter to me, but I got space relatively cheaply in Manhattan. I got the feeling the place would get popular. I kept my tiny studio apartment in the Village, at the time worth far more than the Tribeca apartment. I’d just started to make good money after a few investments had paid off and I started to make more. Yuppies are history now. But I was one, for a time.” “Faye—” Time he knew something else about her, something she’d been hesitant to tell him. “My parents were killed in 1933.” “When you were ten years old. That would make you—” “Yep. It would.” Hearing the difference between their ages didn’t appeal to her. “So you’re screwing your grandmother. Or maybe your great-grandmother.” He shuddered. “Impossible. She lived and died in Poland. Aren’t you as old as you feel, or something like that?” “Sometimes I feel hundreds of years old.” Particularly now. She took a left, trying to concentrate on the traffic. “So do I. Especially when I wake in the morning and my body won’t do what I tell it to.” He gave a short laugh. “One thing’s for sure. I’m so going to learn to drive when this is over. I couldn’t when I was ill, and then when I could, I didn’t have the time. And everybody tells me that if I live in New York, I don’t need to drive. But I might want to go to Los Angeles again, and it was a pain in the ass not being able to drive there.” He’d successfully lightened the atmosphere, but he’d avoided telling her how he felt about her age. But she’d know. She’d know for sure before the end of the evening. She refused to contact him telepathically and find out that way because she wanted him to tell her or show her for himself. Although it was tempting. The warren of streets around here made it easier for her to shake people off. But she was sure nobody had followed them tonight. She’d remained vigilant. She drove into the parking garage around the corner from her building and parked the car between a
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Ferrari and a shiny black Range Rover. That was par for the cars here. Not her little Subaru, a typical university car. But she didn’t need anything bigger. They exited the car and she took him up the street to the entrance. He gazed at the red-brick building with fire escapes lacing their way up. All painted matte black, like the wrought iron canopy over the main entrance. “Very nice.” “This used to be a warehouse for the goods loaded on and off at the docks. When industry moved out, the artists moved in. The bohemians and some wealthy arty people. These days we get a lot of hipsters. And here we are. Prime real estate.” The window frames were painted green now. She remembered when soot had daubed the buildings, when respectable women didn’t venture here. That was a long time ago, before she’d thought of buying property here. The cobbled streets had rung with workmen yelling to each other, turning the air blue with their colorful curses. Anyone who used “fuck” as a lazy adjective should have listened to the inventiveness of these guys. A few remained, but the middle class had bought the big, splashy buildings, the old warehouses and the stores, and turned them into desirable condos. Faye loved this place. She led the way inside. “This is my home.” She nodded to the concierge but the guy kept her gaze. He wanted a word with her. She strolled toward his desk. “Hi, Raymond. Did you want me?” “Sorry, Ms. Corrigan.” She cast a guilty look at Andros, who raised a brow at the new name, but his mouth quirked in a half-smile. He understood. She turned her attention back to the concierge. “Is there a problem?” “Mr. Smith on the third floor complained about the heating in his apartment.” She snorted. “Mr. Smith does nothing but complain. Still, tell him I’m looking into it. And send a maintenance man around in the morning, would you?” “Sure.” He grinned. “Thought you’d better know before he comes knocking on your door.” Light dawned. “Ah. Yes. Thanks for warning me.” Smith would call her day or night if he had a complaint. He touched his fingers to his cap in a mock salute. “You know me, Ms. Corrigan. Discreet to a fault.” “What would I do without you?” She led the way to the elevators and slipped her card into the slot. “I guess I owe you an explanation.” “Not if you don’t want to. I know Talents used to slip from life to life before they came out. I guess you bought this place when you were a Ms. Corrigan?” “Yes. Here, I’m her daughter, or rather, I inherited the place from myself. I didn’t want anyone to track me, so when I took the job at the university I gave them a new name. This place is mine, it’s special.” He touched her hand. “I appreciate you bringing me here. You don’t bring many people here, do you?”
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“No, I don’t. I take them to a hotel room, or the other apartment.” Belatedly, she remembered where they had gone after their first meeting. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t see m to take offense and she breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re making up for it now.” He paused. “So why is what Smith does your business? Is he bothering you?” “He thinks I’m a billionaire and he wants to seduce me. Thinks his appeal will do it. It won’t. He won’t get the message but he doesn’t harass me or do anything that upsets me too much. Otherwise I’d get him out of the building.” She cast him another guilty glance. “Because I own it.” “Shit, Faye!” The doors slid silently open and she led the way to her apartment. Inside, she had polished wooden floors covered with Oriental rugs, soft, broad sofas, bookcases and original works of art. She’d lavished time and money on this apartment and it was her refuge, her place of safety. She hoped he liked it, because if he liked it, he liked her. She’d put herself into this place, her first real home. Andros wandered around the large room with its equally large windows. The living area gave way to a breakfast bar and a kitchen equipped with state-of-the-art appliances. The colors were restful, slate blues and ivories, with darker accents in the kitchen. There was a flight of stairs at the other end of the room. Instinctively he loved it here. “Where’s your office?” he asked. She laughed. “You mean where do I keep my computers? I have an office upstairs, but I only have a good base unit, screen and so on. Nothing fancy. I do have a widescreen TV, though.” “So we can snuggle and watch the latest romantic comedy?” “Or the newest space adventure.” He gave a rueful grin. She’d caught him out on an assumption he shouldn’t have made. “I deserved that. Look, I’m a bit overwhelmed. This makes me feel—” He glanced at the nearest sofa and then at her. “No, Andros. While you’re here, it’s your home. Please.” “All right.” He parked his crutches against a sofa and sat. “Come and tell me about your life. Let me hold you.” “Sure.” She looked as uncertain as he felt. “This won’t make any difference to us, will it?” He laughed. “Don’t be an idiot, of course it will. But what difference it makes is up to us. I still want to hold you, care for you. Make love to you. But talk to me now. No secrets, yes?” “It’s a long story.” She threw her jacket on to another sofa and went to do as he asked. “Wouldn’t you like some coffee? Something to eat? I have steak and salad.”
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It was then that his stomach decided to rumble. That went some way toward breaking the ice, since she heard it and grinned. He watched her shimmy her way to the kitchen. Well, she didn’t really shimmy, but the swing of her hips reminded him what he enjoyed most about her. “I guess. Thanks.” She could work in the kitchen and still talk to him. Which she did, while he enjoyed watching her deft, sure actions. He guessed she appreciated keeping an activity between them, a guess reinforced by her dispassionate tone as she talked to him. Not that any of it would put him off. Even in this exhausted, pain-racked state he wanted her with an urgency that verged on desperation. “I was born in 1923.” She glanced up from the chopping board, where a selection of salad vegetables awaited her attention. “But you guessed that, right?” “I’m generally considered quite good at math.” His understatement made her smile. “We weren’t poor but my parents didn’t make a point of displaying their wealth. Not a good idea in a small town. People resented us, nevertheless. Some of them. Some were good friends. Mom loved the quiet life, made friends, but Dad was more restless. He wanted to move on but he stayed because she loved the life. So I’m your archetypal small-town girl. Except for the dragon bit.” She surprised a laugh out of him, then started to chop. From then on she punctuated her narrative with regular, steady chopping and Andros knew why she didn’t buy her salad ready-made. A good way of getting rid of frustration. “You know what happened when I was ten years old. My parents disappeared. So did most of their money, as it turned out. They left it to me in trust, but someone got there first, forged their signatures on various documents and got away with the money. That was between them disappearing and their bodies turning up. They labeled me an abandoned child but I knew they were dead. My telepathy was pretty good and I couldn’t sense them anywhere. Blank, gone. But I was ten years old, what could I say to make anybody believe me?” Chop, chop, chop, sure and steady. “When my foster parents dumped me they made all kind of excuses—they couldn’t afford it, they thought I’d be better off with my own kind, all that kind of crap, but back in the system, suddenly they knew about me. Knew I was a freak. And it would have been only a matter of time before more people knew.” She stopped chopping, looked up. “Even in those days some people knew.” Andros nodded. She resumed her dissection of a green pepper. “I had no choice. I went on the lam. Then I discovered that other people like me existed. I kinda imagined I was the only one once my parents died. The relief!” She laughed. “I bought papers. I was fourteen by then and I could work. So I did. Moved on a lot. Then World War II happened. I didn’t see much of it, only its effects, and war is a great way of changing identity. So by the end of the war I was older, experienced, and I came to New York. I never left.” She grinned and the chopping slowed. “I worked as a secretary, clerk, switchboard operator; I was in a typing pool for over twenty years. I enjoyed it, liked fitting in and having friends, but I knew better than to tell people what I was. I came across the 101
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occasional shape-shifter of course, but I didn’t seek them out. Then came the seventies and liberation. I got liberated. Went to Woodstock, dropped out for a few years. My hippie friends thought my ability to breathe fire was a real gas, and they never really believed it, thought it was some Eastern mystical thing, or a magic trick.” She glanced up. He felt her mind touch his, anxiously checking. He sent her reassurance and she continued with her story. “A real twentieth-century babe, that’s me. Eventually I ended up working in downtown New York at exactly the right time, in the early eighties. I made a fortune. You should have seen me, all big hair and wideshouldered power suits. Ann Reynolds had nothing on me.” She stopped. “And that’s when you bought this place,” he prompted gently. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “When I’d made enough, I bought the building. Went into property and bought a few more. But once I’d secured my future, I didn’t speculate, didn’t take part in the boom of the last ten years. It didn’t feel right to me. I’ve always believed that what you borrow you will have to pay back one day. Like I told you, small-town mentality. In the late nineties I had to change my identity again, so I decided to go back to my real name. It was starting to get much harder to do that. Records were so much better. In the old days, you could get by on your own if you were careful, but these days, when every life is recorded online, it’s harder. Still possible though. “I went back to college and did a degree in something I knew little about, English literature. I read a lot, but I never did it in a structured, ordered way. I loved it. So I carried on at college and got this job. When Talents came out I decided to wait and see. I was happy in my job and I knew what coming out meant, how it changed people and how they look at you.” Although she’d recounted her story dispassionately, the tale put a few things together in Andros’ head. Now he knew why she wanted to give Talents the right to remain anonymous, if they wanted. Coming out had cost her her parents, her way of life, forced her out into the world before she was ready. He could understand that, more than she thought, perhaps. “We lost our father early and our mother continued to live in the family home. She refused to move out but she got real sick. We used the money to pay for her treatment and her specialist home. So sometimes it happens anyway. Ania gave her business up for our mother, in effect. I knew that if I finished my degree I could get a better job and start paying her back, but it never worked out that way. Now I get a great salary, I have a good job. And I’m a dragon.” She looked up and her eyes lit with amusement. “Yeah, how about that.” They shared the joke, incomprehensible to most people, but theirs anyway. He loved that. He groped for his crutches and used one to help him get to his feet. “Can I do anything?” “Rest. I know you’re tired, I can feel it. Let me do this. We’ll eat, maybe watch a little TV and then go to bed. An early night.”
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“That sounds so good.” Andros knew it didn’t get much better than this. But there was always room for improvement. He planned to provide that later. Damn, the woman knew how to prepare a steak. After teasing him with the delicious scent of steak and onions, Faye didn’t disappoint. Blood oozed out of his juicy, fat slab of meat and his taste buds responded. He appreciated his ability to handle a steak knife. In his previous existence, even that had been beyond him sometimes. His friends or companions would cut up his meat for him, mostly with a matter-of-fact approach that he appreciated, but hated that they had to do it. He ate with relish and appetite, glad to see Faye doing the same. When she caught him looking, he grinned and finished his mouthful, pushing his plate away with a satisfied sigh. “You’ll need your strength for later,” she said. She gave him a cheeky smile and rose from the table by the window to take their plates away. “You don’t look disabled right now. You look strong and fit.” She carried the plates to the breakfast bar and put them down. “That’s because I’m sitting down. And because you can see past the fuzzing. It’s there all the time, but you just push straight through it.” He wanted to give her something, a chance to see him as he was. “Let it take you. When you feel the vibration, let it have its way. Then you’ll see me as others are seeing me right now. As I was until recently.” He felt her concentration and forced himself to relax. The Sorcerer who’d helped him had strengthened the fuzzing effect, so he couldn’t get rid of it until he shapeshifted, or he would have dropped it for her. She opened her mind so he could share the vision. Odd, seeing himself through someone else’s eyes, but he recognized the skinny figure she was seeing. Narrow wrists, bones pressing against a thin coating of flesh. Veins blue against the pale, almost translucent skin. That was the Andros he recognized. The new, healthy one startled him sometimes when he caught sight of himself in a mirror unexpectedly. “Andros—” Would she feel sorry for him, treat him with more delicacy? He saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and hated them, but he’d asked for this, for her to see him as he often saw himself. “God, you’re so much stronger than I imagined.” “No I’m not. Like I told you before, I just accepted what was. You did it too, didn’t you?” She frowned, then nodded. “I believe I did. But that was different—” “Everyone’s experience is different. It’s what’s inside that sometimes connects.” “Connects. I like that.” Her frown melted away and she reached for him at the same time he reached for her.
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He stumbled when he got to his feet and the chair growled against the floor in response. She grabbed him and her strength held both of them upright. While they leaned together, he brought his mouth down to hers and they shared a long, sweet kiss. He let her support him and concentrated on kissing her to within an inch of her life. They left the rest of the debris from their meal to deal with later. She led the way upstairs, Andros coping with the broad, wooden steps with, if not ease, at least a great deal of eagerness. Her big bedroom was dominated by a large bed, gauzy white drapes caught up on brass hooks in the shape of dolphins that were suspended from the ceiling. Light, airy, but with a feminine touch that invited him in, as if he were entering a private, forbidden zone. The thought drove his arousal higher. A room made for seduction. How many men…? Before he could drown his wayward thought in the depths of his mind she caught it. “I’ve never brought anyone here before. I won’t lie to you. Pretty soon I won’t be able to.” “What do you mean, won’t be able to?” He gazed into the sharp, clever face that meant so much to him already. “If we open completely, we’ll bond. As far as I know it’s something you have to consent to, but I’ve heard of it happening by itself. Do you know about bonding?” “Some.” His sister hadn’t bonded with Johann yet, but she’d talked about it once. Said Johann wanted her to think about it. “You should, now you’re a Talent.” He watched her, reached for her with one hand. His crutch clattered to the floor. He trusted her to hold him up until they decided to lie down. “Tell me.” “When Talents bond they become one. Their minds merge. They’re never without each other, always together. They can’t build barriers to keep the other out. Any privacy is given by consent. Their lives end at the same moment. It has to be a conscious decision and voluntary.” “Is it what Talents want?” It sounded scary to him. “Some. Many don’t, even married couples don’t always do it. Some people just need that space, and some are scared to take the step. Some leave total bonding until one of them is dying, then the other will join them.” She offered a light smile. “I just thought you ought to know. We can’t do it without agreeing to do so. Or so I understand.” “Have you ever been tempted?” He knew she must have had lovers before but he didn’t want to think about them. He wanted her to himself with a selfishness that appalled and enthralled him in equal measure. “Never.” She bit her lip. He watched her sharp teeth dent the delectable flesh and leaned forward, but before he kissed her she murmured something. He thought it was “Before now”. But he couldn’t be sure and he wouldn’t ask her to repeat it. Not yet.
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Her mouth tasted of steak, wine and Faye. The last part tempted him more than anything else could. He went back for more and nearly took himself off balance. She drew back with a light laugh. “I think we should move to the bed, don’t you?” “Probably.” Using his one remaining crutch, he followed her to the bed and unsuccessfully tried to suppress his sigh of relief when he lowered himself onto the soft white comforter. He lay back and opened his arms. “Come to me, my darlink,” he said in a deliberately bad German accent. “Fill my arms with your loveliness.” “You sound like Frankenstein.” She giggled, adorably sweetly. She lay on her side next to him and traced his lips with one finger. “Didn’t he just say ‘mmm’ a lot?” Laughter pealed through the room. “That was the monster who said mmm. Frankenstein was the man who built him. He said a lot more.” “Come with me to the Casbah?” He frowned. “No, that’s not right.” “That was a different old film.” She dropped a light kiss on his lips. “Shut up before your pop references get tangled up beyond rescuing.” They got tangled up in each other instead. He buried his mouth in the hollow at the base of her throat, kissed and licked and inhaled, loving her scent, feeling his cock respond in a suitably promising way. He undid her blouse, button by button, kissing each bit of skin as it became exposed. Caressing it with his mouth, stroking it with the tips of his fingers, exploring the subtle changes in texture. He took his time and when he pushed her blouse off her shoulders and she sat up to rid herself of it, her hands tangled in the fabric. “I haven’t undone the buttons on the cuffs.” “Then I have you.” He pushed her down onto the bed. She gazed up at him, white fabric bunched under her from the comforter and her blouse, her hands behind her, her breasts pushed forward. Leaning on one elbow, he bent down and anointed one peak with his tongue, tickling it through the thin, silky fabric of her bra. He left a wet mark, her nipple becoming more visible, rosy and utterly delectable. He sucked it, turned to the other, loved the way it hardened under his tongue. She’d stopped struggling and her breath came unevenly. “How do you do that?” “What?” “Make me want you so fast. I thought I was a slow burner.” Unable to resist, he delivered another kiss to her left nipple. “Not in my experience.” She gasped and lifted her upper body toward him, an erotic sight that forced sharp tingles to ripple over his body that had nothing to do with his induced condition. Far more enjoyable than the sharp twinges and twitches that were part of Becker’s. The next moment her eyes sparked with a red flare. She’d partially shape-shifted. Not enough to show it in her body, but she’d gained some of the strength of her other 105
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self. And he knew he was a goner. He couldn’t partially shape-shift to combat her without losing his disguise, but all the same, the shape-shift sent a surge of pure desire roaring through his body, one he barely understood. She dispensed with her bindings with one flex of her muscles. Fabric tore and left her with a few ribbons of white silk hanging from her wrists and the cuffs, which remained intact. Her eyes glittered as she gazed at him. “You’d better get those things off if you want to keep them.” Laughing, he dispensed with his clothes as fast as he could, feeling her hot stare bathe his skin. His cock rose, hard for her already, its tip darkened with desire. She peeled off what was left of her own clothes at a more leisurely pace, but didn’t take her gaze from him. Their breath marked the silence, harsher pants coming as she revealed more of her body, as she examined his. He knelt up on the bed but as soon as she’d stripped, she pounced. He grabbed her thigh as he went down on his back, sprawled on the soft duvet, and felt an extra shot of heat. When he moved, he felt the lines under his palm. Her mark. Raised lines delineated the creature they became in their other form. He wanted to see it but he wanted her more. And Faye was attacking him with delicious thoroughness. She sucked one of his nipples, then the other, ending with a nip that shot straight to his groin. He cupped her head in his hands, threaded his fingers through the thick, wavy locks, but didn’t try to prevent her going where she wanted, doing what she wanted. Keeping his mind locked firmly to hers, he shared his emotions with her. All of them, even the less than macho ones, the gratitude for her help, the anger his weakness always evoked, even now, and most of all, he opened completely about his desperate need for her right now. She gave him warmth and an arousal that made him even weaker at the knees. Tasting him, she made him growl with need and reach for her, but at the moment her strength was far greater than his. And he didn’t dare shape-shift. So he bowed to the inevitable and lay back, watching her, holding her hair, letting the sensations wash over him, leading him so high he didn’t know if he could hold back much longer. When he told her so she lifted her head. “No. You hold on, Andros. I’ll tell you when you can come. Not before, you understand?” He nodded and then gritted his teeth when her mouth closed over his cock. Her words drifted into his mind. So good, you taste so good. Her voracious sucking drove him further, harder until it wound around his being like a living thing. She worked his cock, then released it with a gentle pop and turned her attention to his balls. That was just as bad—or as good. As fine as it got. He groaned and squirmed on the bed, trying to hold his explosion back. He wanted more and he’d promised. Andros kept his promises. He didn’t know whether to be happy or sad when she finally lifted and squatted astride him. He stared up at her. He slid his hands out of her hair, down her body, pausing to cup her breasts and tease the nipples with his thumbs. “You’re fantastic,” he
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told her, a small tribute, but all he could manage at the moment. He couldn’t think, couldn’t remember his own name when he looked at her. Right now he’d give her anything. And all she wanted was him. Everything he read in her told him so. That suited him just fine. If only she’d get on with it. Her wet pussy touched the very tip of his cock, anointing it but only just. He groaned. “Have mercy. Please.” “What do you want, Andros?” He stared up at her. “You. Only you. Whatever you want to give me.” “Everything?” “Christ, yes!” She sank down on him so quickly he was embedded in her sweet body before he realized what was happening. The shock nearly made him come. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and closed his eyes, but then he felt her so exquisitely wrapped around him that was almost as bad, or as good. So high he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. He opened his eyes, watched her rise and fall, slowly, teasing him, not moving too much. She leaned forward and planted her hands on either side of him, resting on her fists, her breasts just out of reach. He rose up, took a taut nipple into his mouth, suckled. He loved her sighs as she showed him her appreciation the best possible way. Her movements quickened then slowed, then she settled into a rhythm. He felt her arousal lift, rise, and forced himself to wait until it had reached the level of his. He moved to the other nipple, ignoring the discomfort that seized his muscles. He was used to ignoring pain. It didn’t cause him much trouble. But she pushed him back, her mind moving over his, soothing him. “Your turn,” she said. “Are you ready?” “Oh yes. More than ready.” She gasped, caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Her hair swept forward, brushing his body with exquisite touches, tickling and teasing, sensitizing his skin as she’d sensitized his whole body. Her arousal rose with her movements and deliberately she adjusted her position so that he hit her sweet spot squarely with every stroke. He braced his body under her. “Now.” That soft, muttered command was all he needed. He cried out, gripped her forearms and erupted into her body. He gave her everything he was, everything he would be. All of him. Her orgasm flowed over him and through him as she gave it back to him. An eternal circle. And he knew, right then, that they’d passed to another stage of their relationship. This was something else, something he didn’t even have a word for. Or did he?
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Chapter Nine They washed each other in the bath, their hands drifting over their own bodies and each other’s with equal tenderness. Drowsiness filled them and Andros felt a peace he hadn’t experienced for a long time—if ever. She helped him without fuss and it occurred to him that here was a woman he could be with in any condition. She’d make it easy for him. And she’d proved that their lovemaking could be incandescent, whatever the state of their bodies. Dried and returned to the bedroom, they prepared to fall into bed but she drew open the drawer of the nightstand on the side he’d taken, looking for a tissue. Andros caught sight of gleaming black metal and shoved his hand inside just as she was about to close it. He dragged out a gun. Not just a standard weapon. A navy Colt, long-barreled, gleaming with care and menace. He glanced into the chambers. A loaded navy Colt. “Don’t tell me you keep this just for self-defense.” “It’s a gun. As good as any other.” She shrugged and, tissue in hand, strolled around the bed to the other side. “Not a coincidence though, is it?” She sighed. “I wish you hadn’t seen that. I’d forgotten I’d put it there. It was in its case until recently.” “When you got it out and loaded it.” He’d learned how to use firearms but the modern kind, where the cartridge went into the barrel. He thought he knew how it worked from the old movies of the Wild West. He examined it. “What the fuck are you doing with this?” She stared at him in silence, her mind still. He could read nothing from it unless he forced a breach and went deeper. He didn’t want to do that. “You need more than a bullet?” “You need powder, a ball and a percussion cap for each chamber of this model. It dates back to the 1850s. The single-bullet models came later, in 1873.” And she’d loaded every one, except the one where the hammer rested. “You sound as if you’d studied the models.” “I had reason to.” Indeed she had. “This is the weapon that killed your parents, isn’t it?” He made the leap thanks to some disjointed images that came to the forefront of her mind when he’d first seen the weapon. He laid the gun in the drawer, careful to keep the business end
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pointing away from the bed. He didn’t really feel safe even then. Early guns could malfunction, and if she’d loaded it with powder, a spark could set it off. She didn’t look away. “Yes it is.” A deep foreboding crept up in his mind. How could she have gotten hold of it? It was hardly likely that they’d donate it to her of their own free will and collectors didn’t usually leave their treasures just lying around. “You took it from Cardross?” She swallowed and met his gaze. At last she opened her mind. “After I killed him, yes.” “Tell me.” He reached out and covered her hand with his, all he dared do right now. Because if she pulled away she could well destroy the trust they’d built. “Please.” He wouldn’t make any promises to keep her secret or not to tell his boss at STORM. He’d make that decision later and he’d do what he thought was right. Even if it killed him. “I went back when I was all grownup. I had a different name by then, and I took care to disguise myself. I wanted to find out more about my parents’ death. He was still police chief, still ran the town. I went to his house and he recognized me at once. He knew what I was and he threatened me with his weapon. His regular one.” Her lip curled. “Not even one of the vintage ones. So I shape-shifted and killed him. I didn’t have any compunction doing it because he’d have gunned me down and he murdered my mom and dad. But somebody saw me, I don’t know who. Maybe one of the kids. They wouldn’t have recognized me but when the wanted signs went out they described my appearance that night, so someone must have.” She swallowed. “I took the gun I was pretty sure he’d used in the murder and hid it in a bank vault. Got it back years later. If anyone asks me, I bought it at auction because it appealed to my sense of aesthetics. And you’re right, I don’t usually keep it loaded. But I have a license and I took it to a firing range the other week. It works perfectly.” “As well as a gun that’s over a hundred and fifty years old can work.” He growled low in his throat. “If you want a sidearm, let me get you another one. A nice Glock. Something reliable.” She grimaced. “I meant to get one, but I never got around to it.” He tightened his grip when she would have pulled away. “You should get rid of it.” “Why? It’s not as if anyone can accuse me of murdering Cardross, not after all this time. Let them try to prove it. It was self-defense, and anyway, he deserved it. They never accused anyone of murdering my parents. They hushed it up. I knew who’d done it. So I redressed the balance.” Her lower lip quivered and she caught it between her teeth, bit down in what looked like a painful nip. “Just promise me you’ll put it back in the vault and let me get you something more suitable.” Something small, something modern, something safe—if a gun could ever be described as safe. “Is that why you took it and why you keep it? To remind yourself of what you did, and what he did?”
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She nodded. “I hated myself for years. But someone had to do something and the law didn’t.” He slid down in the bed and pulled her into his arms. “My girlfriend the vigilante. Please tell me you don’t make a habit of it.” “Only that once.” She placed her hand on his chest. It was trembling. “You won’t tell anyone?” If she said it was self-defense, that was good enough for him. “Why should I? But you have to get rid of the gun, baby. It’s a direct tie to what’s a murder on the statute books. It has to go.” Once he could shape-shift, he’d crush it, pull it into little pieces and scatter them so wide nobody would ever put them back together. “I know.” She turned her head and met his stare. “I kept it to remind myself of what he’d done. Once I wanted to get all the Cardrosses. They were complicit and they did nothing to bring him to justice. And my parents’ money disappeared as though it had never existed. I wanted justice, even if I had to mete it out myself. Revenge.” “And now?” He took her hand and twined their fingers together. She sighed and shook her head, her hair clinging to the fine cotton pillowcase. “Not now. Anyone concerned is dead. Even if they weren’t, there are other things I want to do, other ambitions that are far more important than revenge. Cardross’ family, his kids, might not have known about it, or they might. He could have terrorized them into keeping their mouths shut. What do I know? Over the years I’ve learned to believe in karma. Let things go and believe that even if they prosper in the short term, karma will get them one way or the other. Does that make sense?” “Perfectly.” He smiled. “But I came to it a different way. My disease made me angry because I didn’t do anything to deserve it. In time I realized it was nothing to do with deserving anything, it just is. Complete bastards get away with cheating and lying, and good people suffer. It’s random. But it’s nothing to get riled about. Better just to accept and get on with what you have instead of wailing about what you don’t have.” “You sound as old and world-weary as me.” “You’re not world-weary. You don’t sound it to me, anyway.” He drew her closer and slipped his arm under her head. She snuggled in with a sigh, making him feel absurdly strong and protective. “You sound sensible and wonderful.” He yawned. “When all this is over, you’re not getting away, you know.” “I don’t want to.” He pulled her closer and drifted off to sleep. A small sound jolted Andros awake. Not a sound he expected. Not her breath heating his neck or the sound of her adjusting her position. Not the sound of water dripping or heating coming on. Something else. A scratch, a furtive sound. Not a mouse. In the old days this place would be awash with them, but not now. Not in a building inhabited by hipsters and yuppies. He concentrated, listened.
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There, again. Then the world exploded. Glass crashed, showering the bed with shards. He dragged the duvet up in automatic reaction, covering her. She stirred into life and he sensed her consciousness wake. With no time to waste, he turned, grabbed the gun from the drawer. Aimed, blinked, his eyes not yet accustomed to the gloom. He caught sight of a dark figure moving against the window, and then another. Two people. He aimed and fired. Nothing. Then he recalled Gary Cooper in an old movie and the action of a weapon like this. He used his other hand to drag back the hammer. One click, two. Pulled the trigger. The weapon exploded in a flash of fire and smoke. Far more smoke than he’d expected. But he’d got the hang of the thing now. He used one hand to pull the hammer back, the other to fire, concentrating on the dark figure he’d spotted. Faye hadn’t wasted time either. She’d shape-shifted with admirable speed and economy, keeping her size to about half so she could move in the room. She snapped her jaws at the other attacker, roared and swooped. A high scream, then the sound of a body slumping to the floor told him she’d found her mark. Then silence. Just the stench of black powder, hot and acrid, and cries from outside in the street. Faye shape-shifted back and snapped on the bedside light. Andros almost wished she hadn’t when he saw what the darkness had hidden. A man lay facedown on the floor, his head turned to one side. What was left of his head, anyway. And the other figure, dressed like the first in nondescript black tee, pants and sneakers was a woman. Still alive. He crossed the room and knelt by her side, almost falling when the pain finally seized him, his muscles weak. He pushed a swath of shining blonde hair aside and gazed into her blue eyes. “Cathy? Why did you do this?” He had no trouble recognizing the woman he’d met once in the cafeteria. A woman Faye considered her friend. Cathy coughed and blood stained her lips. He knew from the sound that she didn’t have long. Sirens whined outside. “Sweetheart, call an ambulance, then call Ann. My cell is in my jacket pocket, downstairs and Ann’s private number is three on speed dial. Do it now. Let the cops in when they knock. Act panicky and scared and be confused. Cry.” Faye raced off, only pausing to grab a navy satin robe from a chair. “Cathy? Answer me!” She forced a smile. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes gleamed with a look he knew. Fanaticism. “Why are you with her? You don’t think she’ll convert you, do you?” He shook his head. “I’m falling in love with her.” He lied. He was already there. 111
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“She’ll take you and use you and abandon you.” Her voice was thready and he had to put his ear almost against her mouth to hear what she was saying. “Is that what happened to you? Someone used you?” The hammering at the door started. He ignored it. She shifted but he held her down, flattening his hand against her stomach, trying not to hurt her any more. He’d shot her in the shoulder and the lungs. They might save her yet. “Stay still.” “I wanted it, but he used me. Said he’d convert me and never did.” He remembered the vampire, Sergiu, talking about acolytes. “Was it the vampire? Did you become a donor?” Her lip curled in a sneer. “That idiot. His name is Harry Johnson. He’s no more a vampire than I am.” Andros thought she might be mistaken in that, but now wasn’t exactly the time to question her word. “So who?” What an idiot for not realizing sooner. “Harken Nordheim.” She gave him a coy smile, gruesome considering her position and the fact that blood decorated her features. “Some of us got to where Faye wanted to with Harken.” He couldn’t feel sorry for her. She’d tried to kill Faye. “How did you know where to find her?” “Been trailing her for years. He knew who she was. Told us.” “Who? Harken?” She closed her mouth, stared at him. Grinned. Took a breath and said, “Him and his friend.” She blinked provocatively, then gasped. When she coughed, a flood of gore streamed out of her mouth. He did what he could within his limited knowledge of first aid and stepped back when, a moment later, the paramedics arrived. But they’d carry her out in a body bag. Ann arrived, for once not immaculate, not perfect, but in sweats, her hair rumpled, without makeup. Strange how a mind in shock noticed things like that. She forced Andros to go downstairs and sit until the cops arrived. And of course it had to be Detectives Abrahams and Holstadt. They were rumpled and disgruntled, but knowing the crazy hours detectives sometimes worked, they could have been up all night. Sartorial elegance and perfect manners would be the last thing on their minds, especially in these circumstances. It was getting on toward four a.m. now, and Andros was feeling the effects of a long night that had started so well and ended so disastrously. As the adrenaline rush melted away, his eyelids drooped and pain spread over his body. A pain he recognized. Even though it was artificially induced, it felt real enough. So when the detective started rattling out questions, he groaned and asked for his pills before he realized they would only make him worse. He already had his crutches, propped by the side of his chair.
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The reality of what had happened started to get to him. He saw the tremor in his hand, recognized the cause was more than the drugs. They’d put it down to his condition. Correction—two people in this room would know. Ann Reynolds and Faye McCaulay. Two women who knew him almost as well as he knew himself. He’d protected her and, ill or not, crippled or not, he could do it. Pride warmed his heart. Even in this condition, he’d taken care of her. He answered the questions numbly. The detectives probably knew they were being given the runaround, but there was little they could do. Not with Ann there, not with Faye using her psi to confuse them. He felt the tingle and recognized it as hers. He was so proud of her. Ann turned around, her back to the window, in full defiance of anyone out there with a weapon who might still bear a grudge. She put her hands on her hips. “Tell them, Andros. Just tell them.” The paramedics had gone, bearing the bodies of Cathy and her yet-to-be-identified male accomplice. Andros frowned up at Ann. “Everything?” “They’ll have to know. We’re trying to be as open as we can. If we can’t trust New York’s finest, what can we do?” Andros had caught the swift exchange between Faye and Ann, to the effect that Faye had read the cops and they appeared genuinely straight. Or as straight as they could be, given their jobs and what they had to face every day. New York had as much of the jungle about it as anything in the depths of undiscovered Africa or South America. And was far more dangerous. So he told them right from the start. “I’m a STORM employee. I’m also a doctoral student at Speke University. So when STORM became aware of an operation based at Speke that was targeting and kidnapping Talents, then selling them illegally to unknown laboratories, I was asked to investigate. We discovered Professor Harken Nordheim was involved, but he was murdered before we could question him.” He caught Abrahams staring at his crutches and had to explain that too. He watched flickers of reaction cross their faces as he explained the rest but refused to react to their “go on, surprise me” challenge. How many people had they caught out that way? Not him. He told his story and watched them as he told it, leaving it to Faye to read them. She’d stop him if they showed any sign that they meant him no good. But he never got any message, just gentle support from her in the part of his mind they shared, deep down where nobody else could touch. He appreciated it so much, hadn’t realized how much he’d missed someone’s unstinting support. Ania still supported him, but she had a partner now, and a different life. So now they knew, now what? Ann decided that for him. “Unless you make it impossible, I want Andros to continue at the university, doing his job for STORM.”
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They meekly agreed. Ann left her station by the window and went to the door. “Nice place,” she said to Faye. “But you can’t come back here until the operation is done. Consider Andros’ apartment your home. I’ll increase your security clearance.” Ironic that Faye got for nothing what she’d stolen from him in the first place, but he couldn’t feel anything but glad that she could walk in of her own free will. Ann had obviously decided she was no threat to STORM. “I have to arrange to have the damage repaired.” “I’ll see to it.” Ann walked toward the door. “And since I want you both back at your posts tomorrow as if nothing had happened, you’d better come with me now.” Faye glanced at the cops. “Haven’t you done all you need tonight?” Andros understood. This place was her sanctum where she revealed her inner self. She’d even gone to the lengths of maintaining a fake address to keep her privacy, and now all these people knew her secret and had invaded her private space. His heart bled for her. He’d help her recreate that sense of peace and relaxation that he’d first felt when he entered if it killed him. Abrahams scratched his head. “I guess so. We’ll keep all this under wraps for now, but we can’t promise you more than a few days before we have to make it official.” “I’ll liaise with your commanding officer. No need to explain STORM’s involvement. Not yet. If necessary, we’ll arrange for an agent to come in and liaise with you, but you’re investigating a murder, right?” “Yes ma’am.” “Do you need to release the name of the victim right away?” Abrahams frowned as if puzzled. “It’s not policy to release any victim’s name until we have contacted the immediate family and informed them.” “Of course.” Ann and this seasoned officer understood each other. Somehow, Andros knew the officers would have some difficulty contacting Cathy’s immediate family. They were probably on their way to a surprise luxury cruise in the Mediterranean right now. Or more likely, an adventure holiday in the Arctic or up Mount Everest. That would make them even more inaccessible. Ann would have a few days to establish liaison with the department they worked for and bring them into the mission. Since STORM had, as yet, no official standing and, if Ann had her way, would continue to be independent, officers from the various government agencies were sometimes brought in to work there. Abrahams and his colleague might find themselves seconded to STORM. Andros wondered how they’d manage with the fantastical Talents they’d find there. He suspected they’d take it in stride. They left soon after the officers did, promising to update Ann in their investigations. As they exited the building to climb into the SUV Ann had brought, a shadowy figure slipped out of a nearby doorway and joined Ann in the front of the car. Andros and Faye took the long backseat. Their hands came together, fingers threaded and they linked. 114
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A wave of exhaustion swept over Andros, but he had to rouse himself because in a few hours he’d have to go in to the university. Without looking around, Ann said, “This is Daria Szabó. She will be around to help you. She’s a virgin Sorcerer, one of the most powerful I have available. She will not be in the field with you, but in the office. Within range, or within her range. Link with her now.” All they could see of her was one long, dark plait, falling down Daria’s back. When they hesitated, Daria turned around in her seat. “You see, quite ordinary. Please do as Ann says.” She had a tinge of a middle European accent. She possessed sharp features and fathomless dark eyes, or maybe that was because of the uncertain light. Although New York had illumination to spare, a shadow seemed to wreathe around this woman. One look into her eyes and Andros knew he had no chance of fighting this, even had he wanted to. He leaned his head back against the head rest and relaxed. Her presence in his mind came as warm and reassuring. He expected that. He’d met more Sorcerers in the past year than he cared to remember. They’d put him through a crash course in controlling his psi, and the more the better, it seemed. He’d learned a little from most and a fuck of a lot from Chase Maynord. But Chase was his friend and, unfortunately, absent right now. This woman had an edge he’d never encountered before in a Sorcerer. Danger, power, excitement—something. Something scary and otherworldly. He didn’t have to like it. “I’m there.” She’d created a communication channel. A way she could contact him and he could reach her, deep down and exclusively theirs. Like the one he shared with Faye, but without the emotional punch. She could use him as a channel too, to alter and influence people. Persuade them, right up to the level of compulsion, which was banned. He squeezed Faye’s hand, sent her friendship and understanding. She opened her eyes. “Me too.” Then she turned her head and met his gaze. They smiled. Simple friendship between lovers. Another new experience for him.
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Chapter Ten With long-nosed pliers in hand and his head half inside a high-end computer case, Andros felt at peace. Like a monk meditating or a scholar poring over an ancient tome, he communed with the object of his desire, making the interior beautiful and neat. The new keyboard could be a great step forward or it could tank, but it needed some internal adjustments before he could try it out. Either way, right this moment, he was content. He thought of nothing else except the clips he was carefully fitting. Maybe this was what philosophers meant by living in the now. He didn’t have to consider yesterday, or tomorrow or any other fucking thing. He finished fitting the piece and backed up to admire his work but smacked his head on the bench above him. He slumped back, feeling the pain in his legs, pain he’d forgotten temporarily. And swore, long and loud. “Fucking goddam fuck!” Clapping his hand to his head, he glared at his crutches, turning his head to avoid the obstruction when he got to his feet. “Ah fuck!” At first he thought the voice was some kind of weird echo, a lighter response reflected back at him, but he saw a flash of bright-blonde hair, a shining sheet of golden strands. He’d seen hair like that before somewhere. Frowning, he called out. “Hey! Did you want something?” The female figure in the doorway sighed. Her shoulders lifted and fell in a resigned shrug. Then she turned around. “I thought there was nobody in here. And I wanted my watch back. I knew I should have scanned first.” She sighed and he cried out as a surge of power went through his head and flashed through his body. “Go to sleep, Andros,” were the last words he heard. Faye stared at the stack of essays before her that she still had to grade. Measure for Measure hadn’t inspired her students to new flights of elegant argument. And how could she concentrate on this pile of—? She almost welcomed her new cell phone ringing. She checked the caller. Ann Reynolds. “Yes?” “Faye, can you speak freely?” “Sure.” “I need you to come down to STORM. Right away, please.” Surely she hadn’t caught a tremor in Ann’s tone? No, that couldn’t be possible. “Should I pick up Andros?”
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“If you would.” All the way to Andros’ lab, she worried. She’d never heard that tone in Ann’s voice before, had always found her totally in control, never fazed. It had to take a lot to worry her. Andros wasn’t there. But he’d definitely been there, the open computer case and the unfastened cables attested to that. She felt his presence, a lingering essence, much like a whiff of cologne after its owner had left. She wanted to stay to enjoy it, to wait for him, but he’d probably taken an early lunch. Maybe he was on his way to find her. She smiled and pulled out her cell. After texting him a message to say she was leaving early and she’d see him at home, “home” in this case being code for STORM, she left, toting her briefcase full of essays. She took the subway uptown to the STORM offices, having left her car in the parking garage near her apartment. Representatives of the police and STORM were keeping an eye on the place and Ann had made good on her promise to have the broken window repaired. Perhaps they’d deal with Mr. Smith’s heating problems too. They’d put it out that her place had been the target of a break-in. Some lowlife looking for some fast cash. She still didn’t know the identity of the man with Cathy. Perhaps that was why Ann wanted her. She’d find out more soon. Watching the stations pass by, she reflected how much her life had changed recently and how little she regretted it. While she didn’t think she’d make a good STORM agent, it had become clear recently that teaching was no longer giving her the job satisfaction she wanted. Time to go back to finance, maybe, try to help clear up the mess of the recent financial slump. Someone had to start tackling it, and she’d had a few ideas recently that might help. She tried to contact Andros telepathically a couple of times, but either he wasn’t listening or her psi didn’t work properly here, underground. The subway wasn’t the most romantic place in the world, especially traveling solo, but reflecting back on the turbulent recent past, she knew for sure that she’d fallen in love with Andros. Realized it for good and certain when they’d linked minds making love for the second time. She still didn’t know if he loved her, but it couldn’t affect her feelings for him, because they came from the heart. Not the reasoning brain. Idiotic, but he’d taught her so much. He’d showed her how to live, just live, and damn the consequences. Whatever the outcome of this, she’d never, ever regret meeting him and giving him her heart. When this mission ended, she’d suggest going away for a while. Just the two of them, somewhere hot and private where they could fly and love and be themselves. Lost in the seductive dream, she nearly missed her stop, but she saw it just in time and bolted off the train. A small group of people stood outside, paparazzi and tourists looking for some action, perhaps a dragon flying off the roof or a vampire ripping into a vein. Hardly likely at this time of day, but they could hope. They let her pass with hardly a glance.
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Strange to stride through the entrance at STORM and show her security card. The receptionist checked her name and told her where to go, just like at a regular office. Less regular was the psychic scan she felt as she entered the elevator. Nobody stopped her, nobody remarked on her presence. She marveled at her naiveté at the beginning of her adventure in thinking that retrieving the professor was just a matter of stealing an ankle bracelet. The elevator doors opened and she found the conference room. A small one, occupied only by Ann Reynolds, Nick and Daria. To her disappointment, Andros hadn’t arrived yet. But Faye wasn’t worried, not until she took her place and felt the tension. Ann didn’t prevaricate. “I’ve received some results that put a new light on what’s been happening at the university.” She had a slim folder in front of her but she didn’t refer to it. Didn’t even open it. “I called you in as soon as I knew but I haven’t heard from Andros yet.” Apprehension snapped inside her, tightened her stomach muscles. She opened her mind to him, called to him telepathically. Nothing. Maybe he was in a blind spot, maybe too engrossed in what he was doing to listen, maybe… She fought down her panic. She forced herself to concentrate on what Ann was saying. “I investigated the professor and learned of some connections I hadn’t known of before. I put people on to it and had it confirmed. I knew we had a strong unit of kidnappers here over the last few months, but they’ve been clever. Nordheim was our first real lead. Now we have another.” Her mouth firmed and her eyes flashed fire. Faye hadn’t known Ann Reynolds could be furious before. She’d seen cold anger, but not the kind of red fury that made a dragon like herself spit fire. She’d considered Ann controlled and in charge all the time, but now nobody could have mistaken the ire in her face, the tremble in her voice. “Here. All the time. Here. We’ve been betrayed, people. Big-time. By somebody very clever and very controlled. A typical psychopath, in fact. I should have seen it earlier, but Sorcerers sometimes show those characteristics. The cold calculation, the unconcern with human values.” She swore and broke off. Comprehension flashed through Faye’s mind. “Serena?” It didn’t make sense. Nordheim had killed Serena. Why would he do that if she were working with him? Who else? It was almost a relief when someone else confirmed her growing suspicions. Ann nodded and sighed heavily. “Serena Duval.” Daria took over. “It shames me to think that one of my kind sold her fellow Talents for money. Not pride, not conviction, but money.” Her dark eyes gleamed and Faye glimpsed the banked power hidden there. Daria was a virgin too, but unlike Serena, she had passion and fire. “Sorcerers are taught to control their psi gifts and their emotions. Some of our kind are taught to subsume tender emotions and lock them away. With it goes our humanity. I believe that is what happened to Serena Duval.”
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Ann regained control, but just for that moment Faye had glimpsed the woman beneath the businesslike exterior. It made the head of STORM more accessible, more human. “Serena let other emotions control her. Jealousy, for instance. Greed. She had enough money, but the Talents who live many centuries often amass incredible wealth. When I spotted the pattern of this case it started to make sense that a Sorcerer was involved. This group was taking some of the oldest and the wealthiest Talents they could find. I thought at first their power attracted their kidnappers, but now I think it was their wealth. If they planned it right, they would gain far more than they would just by selling Talents.” Faye leaned back, not hiding her disgust that a Talent would do this thing. “And Serena did that. Well at least she got her due.” “That’s the worst of it.” Ann glowered and Faye sensed her frustration. “The body in Serena’s office? It wasn’t Serena Duval.” Silence fell like a pall except for Faye’s shocked gasp. Anything she thought to say sounded cliché. Were they sure? Well duh, STORM, yes. How did they know? Probably DNA testing. Ann kept Faye in her gimlet stare. “We don’t know the identity of the body we thought was Serena’s. Not yet. Serena must have dropped her watch to authenticate the body, stop us searching for her for the vital time it took her to get away cleanly. She could be anywhere.” “She’s in New York,” Daria bit out. “I can sense her. But I can’t track her down because psi has no sense of direction. I can tell if she is close, that is all. She doesn’t know I’m here, or how strong my psi is. That is an advantage for us.” Nick glanced at Daria. “I’m teaching a class at four, and I can stay on-site. Do you want to come into the field, sense the office?” Daria shook her head. “Not right now. The police have been there, leaving their traces behind. So have other people. I doubt I could discover anything new now.” Ann tapped the folder before her, drawing Faye’s attention to it. “I want complete honesty in this room. No secrets, you understand, Faye? Will you tell us the truth about your childhood, or shall I tell you?” The game was up. Faye had to confess. In a quiet voice she explained what she’d only told Andros before, about her family, the murders and how she’d gone back to confront Cardross and eventually kill him. “Will they see it as murder?” Ann’s eyes were clear again. “If it ever comes to light outside this room, I’d advise you to plead self-defense. But after all this time, there are no witnesses we know of, and the climate right now is not sympathetic toward Talents. It could be a rough ride.” She hadn’t needed Ann to tell her that.
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“When I uncovered the details of the old case of the death of Police Chief Cardross, things started to fall into place,” Ann said. She glanced at Daria. “Sorcerers aren’t the only people who can see patterns. I couldn’t understand why they’d use an old weapon at all, why Nordheim even had that Schofield. But with your act all those years ago, killing Cardross, I understood. The Cardrosses had a score to settle, didn’t they? And you had gone back to your original name when you took the post at the university. The weapon was from Cardross’ collection, I had it confirmed by a ballistics expert. Your entrance into Nordheim’s office was planned for and expected. They wanted you, not for their collection, but to even the score. They wanted revenge, and killing you with a gun from the Cardross collection was the message they’d leave behind.” “But wouldn’t that make it easier for the police?” Nick questioned. “Sure it would. But they’d get away with it, so what did they care?” Faye covered her face with her hand, then snatched it away. “What’s the connection?” Ann shrugged. “That I don’t know. Yet. They were so money-hungry, perhaps someone paid them to do it. They’d have made it look like self-defense, arranged it so you shot Serena and she shot you. Like the first situation, perhaps?” Faye nodded and groaned. It did sound familiar. She’d confronted Cardross at his desk and he’d had a hidden gun trained on her. But her reflexes had made her move fast and he only winged her, whereas her shot was true. Change that scenario a tad and the scene in the office that day could have been altered to look as if it had played out the same. Without Andros, that was. He’d been a game-changer that day. Ann’s phone rang. She picked it up with an annoyed, “I told you I was in conference.” Then she listened. A quiet “Send him up” concluded the conversation. A few moments later, a tap on the door heralded the entrance of someone Faye knew wasn’t Andros. If it had been, she’d have sensed him. They were too close now not to know when the other was nearby. But she hadn’t expected to see the university’s resident vampire enter. “Sergiu?” Ann raised a brow. “Let’s be honest here. Harry Gossett, a.k.a Harry Johnson, a.k.a Sergiu Tanase. Isn’t that right?” Sergiu-Harry shrugged, the shoulders of his impressively packed black jacket rising. “If you like.” He wore typical vampire gear—black shirt and slacks, a black leather jacket. Black biker boots with studs completed his outfit. He wore his hair long, and it was the regulation black, although in the light it was possible to discern chestnut glints. “Harry will do. I came out of the goodness of my heart to tell you who I saw half an hour ago.” “Go on.” “Serena Duval. I thought she was supposed to be dead? Then I recalled that you guys are hanging around the place. What, you think I didn’t know?” His full lips curled in a sneer. “What do you think I’m doing there?” “Working for the Bureau,” Ann said. 120
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Harry rolled his eyes. “When my bosses talk to other peoples’ bosses it would be a good thing sometimes if they let us in on the setup. I’ve been working my guts out for the last six months in that place, and you walk in and nearly wreck it all. I don’t do this for my own amusement.” “Do they know you’re a vampire?” Ann demanded. “Not just pretending?” “Some do. Most don’t. I guess we’re looking for the same people for different reasons.” “Probably. Tell me what you saw.” “Serena Duval and Andros Zelinski leaving campus together.” Nausea churned in Faye’s stomach. She swallowed and tried to control her whirling thoughts, slow her mind down and think. “Something wasn’t quite right about Zelinski, but I didn’t use my psi because the woman’s a Sorcerer. The way she used her psi on me at the meeting she came to…” He shrugged again. “You can tell.” He leaned against the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. Faye took a couple of deep breaths and studied the vampire, concentrated on him while she processed what had just happened. Harry Gossett without his Sergiu persona seemed a far more dangerous character. His movements were less florid, less studied, but meant a whole lot more. And he was ripped. Without the pose, the deliberate “I am a vampire” trappings, he seemed stripped down to the bare essentials, the danger of the vampire readily apparent now, even though he wouldn’t come into his powers for an hour or two. He leaned against the wall by the door, not attempting to sit or become part of the group. This man was a loner. “The Bureau told me the Sorcerer was dead. So I thought I’d better find out from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.” He cocked a dark brow. “Was I right?” “We thought she was dead but we were wrong,” Ann told him. “She faked her own death then had her accomplice, Professor Nordheim, taken care of. One of my agents killed him when he drew a weapon.” “Let me read you,” Daria said. “I can perhaps find traces. Did you know her well?” “She came to the club and teased me, did it more than once but I sensed the coldness under her approach and I wondered what she was at. She let me drink from her once, and I managed to get a hold on her then, but I think she wanted to get a hold on me.” He grinned. “She underestimated me. Vampires can give orgasms as thanks. I nearly pushed one on her but she said no, and at the time I thought she was one of the good guys when she said she worked for STORM.” “We thought she was too.” Faye couldn’t stand it anymore. Scraping back her chair, she sprang to her feet. “Well what are we waiting for? We have to find him!”
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“You’re back,” said a calm, female voice. He cracked one eye, then the other, cautiously peering at her. “I thought you were dead.” “I thought you were, for a moment back there. You succumbed to my suggestion very quickly.” Serena sat on a chair in a typical hotel room. A flat-screen TV stood on the vanity across from the bed and another, empty bed stood between the one he occupied and the window, over which the drapes were drawn. It could be any room anywhere, although from the coffeemaker he surmised they were still in America. His mind worked far too frantically. He couldn’t control it at this rate. His heart beat too fast—he didn’t like this, something was wrong. “I doubled your dose,” she said, as if he’d spoken aloud. Which, he supposed, he had, to her. “I will increase the cephalox and retain your other drugs. You will take them or I will make you.” He knew she could. With one thought she could do it. He searched his mind, found the deepest corners and relegated his inmost thoughts to that place. Chase Maynord had taught him a few tricks. So was layering a more innocuous train of thought over it. Not that it would help right now, but it might benefit him in the long term. If he had a long term. “You got me to take pills while I was unconscious?” “I did.” She got to her feet and strolled to the coffeemaker. “In case you were wondering, you’ve been unconscious for five hours, you’ve had one dose of pills, doubled to ensure your continued condition, and we have left New York.” Terrible news. He couldn’t use telepathy to contact anyone he knew. Likely she had blocked this room off, anyway. He couldn’t rely on his newfound powers to get him out of this. If he was going to get out of this. No, he couldn’t think that. He would get out of this. He had to. “What do you want from me?” And why, he wondered, was he still here? Why hadn’t she sold him? If she faked her own death it was because she was involved in the venal trade of selling her own kind to people who would torture them in the name of science. Venal. He liked that. Obviously loving a professor of literature was having a positive effect on his vocabulary. “The same as the others. I’ll move you on to someone else, when the time is right.” “When will that be?” She smiled and turned her attention to the coffeemaker. “When I think it’s right.” A significant word, that. I, she’d said. It could signal that she was in control of the whole operation. Or that she was working on her own here. Or both. “You don’t listen to your bosses?” “I have no bosses.” The first one then. But that didn’t rule out the second.
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She brought him the coffee and put it on the nightstand between the beds. He reached out, touched her and, in that instant before she suppressed it, felt a surge of something he shouldn’t have felt, not in this Sorcerer. Emotion. He couldn’t discern what kind, but it didn’t feel dispassionate. Far from it. He had something he could use. Now to find out what kind of emotion. She stared at his hand but didn’t move. “Let me go.” “I’m not stopping you moving away.” He had to take great care now. She wouldn’t believe any sudden declaration. It might take time. “But unlike you, I need human contact sometimes.” “You know nothing.” “So tell me.” She shrugged. With difficulty, because the extra drugs had increased the stiffness and pain in his body, Andros sat upright and shoved some pillows behind his back for support. He tried not to wince and fought to control his dizziness. “What’s it like being a Sorcerer, cutting yourself off from human emotion?” She stared at him. “I’ve always found it quite easy.” “You don’t get to talk very often, do you? Just talk.” He guessed that was part of her problem, and wondered if she’d recognize the right word if she heard it. Lonely, she was lonely. “I talk to many people.” But not socially. He had a hunch. “Were you brought up in one of those isolation schools we hear about but never see?” “What’s it like being ordinary?” she countered. He blinked. “I was never ordinary. Well, not for long. I was diagnosed with Becker’s in my teens.” Until then he’d been what she’d consider as ordinary, though. “I went to a regular high school, managed to graduate, had a few girlfriends. Lost my virginity at sixteen,” he said, not without a touch of pride. He’d done it with a girl who he’d thought at the time he’d spend the rest of his life with. It had lasted only two years, but it had been a good two years. He should get back in touch with her, just to see how she was doing. If he got out of here, that was. When. He meant when, not if. “Some would-be virgin Sorcerers go mad. They are treated so they recover.” “How?” “They are given orgasms.” She stared at him. “How?” His stomach churned at the thought that children were made to come. But it was either that or lose their minds. Orgasms reduced a Sorcerer’s power to manageable levels. “In noninvasive ways. Vampires are often used.”
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“That’s not much better. But maybe that’s the mortal talking. Before I met my brother-in-law I had no idea vampires really existed. Although I hoped.” “Why?” He grimaced. “I thought they could convert me and cure me. I was desperate for a cure.” He needed to draw her in, confide in her, make her trust him. If he could somehow avoid taking the cephalox, in twenty-four hours he could shape-shift. It would take too long. He could be dead by then. “Why do you want me?” He swallowed and made sure she saw his nervousness. Sorcerers weren’t always adept at body language. “Why not just kill me?” She nodded. “Reasonable questions. Two reasons. You interest me. I want to strip your mind, find out what it means to have a disability one moment and be cured the next. I don’t have to do it that way, but it’s faster and easier.” And from the spark of triumph he saw in her eyes, he thought she might enjoy rendering him helpless. “I’ll be careful—I’ll make sure there’s something left for the scientists. And that’s the other reason. I can get a good price for a dragon.” “Does betrayal of your own kind mean nothing to you?” She regarded him, her face as blank as if she’d been shot full of Botox and collagen. “I have no ‘own kind’. But I have a need to make money so I can live adequately.” She shrugged. “It’s a rational decision. Regrettably, I’ll have to cut the university connection, but I have other outlets.” He had no idea if Daria had the power Ann intimated, but he hoped so. Otherwise he was fucked. Though perhaps not. Ideas crowded the back of his mind, thoughts he pushed down so she couldn’t read them unless she forced herself in. He put a gentle thread of attraction in the front of his mind, let it wind around his other thoughts. Nothing too much, overkill would drive her away, he was sure. Careful. She responded. Just a gleam of interest in her eyes. “You know the first person I took was a vampire. He tried to seduce me.” Shit, oh, shit. She’d noticed. He’d decided to attack her in the place where she had least experience and, being a virgin, that had to be personal relationships and sex. He didn’t like her smile. If a serpent could smile it would look like that. “You think I can seduce you?” “You can try.” Oh yeah, he got it now. Arrogance often reaped its own reward. Did he take her on, accept her challenge, or did he give in and just wait to be rescued? Or, as seemed more likely, killed. Well one thing was for sure. He wasn’t going to just take whatever she chose to do to him. “So what will you do?” “The workings of your mind interest me. You will doubtless give me an opportunity to explore it.” Yes, he would. He’d leave a gap, a space that she could get through but let her think she’d forced her way in.
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She bared her teeth in that awful simulacrum of a smile again. “Do you wish to turn this into a game? Try to seduce me and I’ll allow you to try. For each failure, I’ll take a little part of you away, explore that part of your mind. A duel, of sorts. Would you want that?” What were they waiting for? Why didn’t she just do it and have done? Or did she enjoy torturing her victims? “Can we eat first?” he asked. “Sure.” She picked up her cell phone from the table by her side and pressed a speed dial number. Fuck, he’d hoped to see the keypad, or even get her to use the hotel phone that stood opposite him. If it was the kind that made noises, he was in, because he knew keypad sounds. She saw his glance. “I disconnected it. Don’t even try. And I threw your cell away. Doubtless they’ve put a tracker in it. So STORM should waste an hour or two discovering where I left it.” His heart leaped. All he needed was time. She hadn’t cut him, hadn’t discovered the tracker deep in his body. He’d inserted it six months ago, an experiment in planting undetectable trackers on agents in the field. Ann would remember it. She had to. He’d left the receiving equipment in his office at STORM. It couldn’t be tracked by conventional equipment. If it even worked anymore. While she ordered sandwiches and fresh coffee, Andros thought hard, worked a few things out, concentrating on her. What did she want? To prove her superiority. To taunt him, no doubt. So he’d take the high road. Submission or gentle, sensuous seduction wouldn’t work with her. Unless he tried the submissive, then switched before she realized what he was up to. He’d had orgasms, she hadn’t and that might take her by surprise. She’d try to fool him. And right now, he was a cripple, so he couldn’t move, couldn’t hold her down. But if he made her come, that would weaken her, maybe take all her Talent away and then he had a chance. He felt sick. He so didn’t want to do this. He wanted Faye, didn’t want anyone else. He wasn’t even sure she’d understand. But he began his campaign. “Do you have any sexual experience at all?” “A little. I can stop. Most people can, they just have to put their minds to it, that’s all.” Her carefully lipsticked mouth quirked. Serena’s appearance was immaculate, her crisp cotton top just the right shade of light green to complement the darker color of her perfectly cut pants. She wore small, gold earrings, gleaming in the subdued light in the room when she turned her head. Nothing of the flyaway about Serena. He reflected on the glorious lights in Faye’s hair, even better when mussed than when she’d just brushed it and parts flew into the air, drawn by static electricity. Perfect. She liked perfection. Another clue. “What don’t you like about sex?” “The messiness. I can’t understand how people would voluntarily get into that state. Yes, I’ve seen porn films. I watched them to test myself.” 125
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He was right. She was curious but arrogant about her ability to control her urges. “Do any of the kinks appeal to you?” “No.” Something flickered across her mind. Score. She had to feel strongly to let even that touch escape her. He took care to hide the fact that he’d noticed. Oh, but something interested her about the porn she’d watched. Maybe being the only female in a group of males, having them all worship her. Or sex in the bath, one of his personal favorites. Exhibitionism, maybe. She’d hate to be a sub to a Dom. Andros could perhaps simulate the relationship in some way. It wasn’t one of his things, but he understood that a sub was given permission by her Master to fly free, to own the relationship. He’d bet his last keyboard Serena didn’t understand that. So he began to talk to her. “I’m only talking now. When I touch you, the challenge will begin, but I need that food to keep up my strength. You want to give me a fair match, don’t you?” She nodded. “The food will arrive in about twenty minutes. You can take your next dose of pills, then we can get down to business. You will not win, Andros. Understand that.” He did. He doubted he could win, but he couldn’t see any other chance. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious or where he was. He could be on the other side of the country, in which case tracking him wouldn’t be a possibility, since GPS tracking devices wouldn’t work. He leaned back against his pillows. “Even in my condition I’ve had some sexual experiences in the past. Some girls like a helpless male. I’ve been known to exaggerate a little if it gets me laid. Whatever you have, you use.” “Charming.” “I’ve never coerced a woman, never done anything except give her what she wanted.” Before Faye, he’d enjoyed variety. Sex seemed to make anything better. And since he had a reduced lifespan anyway, he’d taken some risks maybe he shouldn’t have. He wanted to give her a bit of flesh, but removing his clothes would declare the contest on. Then, he had no doubt, she’d destroy him. She meant only to play with him, and if he got close, she’d crush him, destroy parts of his mind as she’d said she would. Once, when he’d been testing a security camera in an iso room, he’d seen Chase Maynord dissect a man’s mind, slice through the layers. Chase knew he was watching, but continued with his ruthless examination of the man who had murdered teenagers because he thought them beneath his notice. Andros tried not to shudder. Afterward, he’d heard Chase vomiting in the nearest men’s room. Serena would have loved it. “You’ve never experienced intimacy of any kind? No cuddling or caressing?” “What’s the point? Isn’t the whole idea of recreational sex to have an orgasm?” He gave a superior smile. “Not at all. It’s the intimacy too. For mortals who don’t know how to use their telepathy, it’s the closest they can get to merging with another person. For Talents, it’s a way to merge, blend minds and combine that with physical closeness. It’s also a lot of fun. Some people use it politically.” 126
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She raised a brow. “Tell me more.” Shit, she really had submerged everything about that part of her nature. A vulnerability for sure. Exhilaration filled him. “You can use it. Use the seductive side to get what you want.” From her appearance alone he’d guess she’d never tried that. Immaculate but soulless, almost sexless in a way. “Dress seductively, in low-cut gowns in sensuous fabric. Let a man touch, then move away. Tease. Can’t you sense when a man is hot for you?” “I guess. I never used it. My psi is exceptionally strong in most areas so I’ve never needed to exploit it.” She leaned forward slightly. “But it could be useful.” He felt it now, a slow burn deep inside her. He needed to stoke that. “You can use it right up to the point of orgasm if you’re careful. Let a man undress you, touch your breasts.” Oh yes, was that a peaked nipple he saw under the crisp cotton blouse? “Let him kiss them, kiss you. Open your mouth for the kiss. I can teach you that, if you like.” “Why would you do such a thing?” That answer was easy. “To stay alive. To alleviate boredom.” He was reading her as closely as he dared now, which wasn’t much. But enough to trace faint changes in mood. She coolly crossed one leg over the other, the rasp of her hosiery the only sound in the silence. A defensive gesture, which meant she felt the need to put up shields. He wouldn’t press the kissing, not yet. The longer he took, the better for him. “Tell me about seduction.” Where was all this going? Maybe she was bored, like him, or maybe she really wanted to know. Or maybe she had time to kill too. They were obviously waiting for something. A signal, a phone call. Something. “You hold someone, then you move away. You let them touch you, then you move away. Kiss him, but don’t let him too close. Let him cop a feel. By then, you’ll have him.” “Astute. I’ve done that, you know.” “But not with your heart. Only your mind. Men can tell. You have to let a little of yourself out.” She frowned, the small furrow between her brows somehow not sitting right on her face. He so rarely saw any expression on her. A sign that he was getting somewhere, at least he hoped so. “I don’t see why.” “Come here and I’ll demonstrate.” When she glared at him, he laughed. “Or I’ll come to you. But you’ll have to give me my crutches back.” “You think I’m insane?” He spread his hands wide and shrugged. “What can I say? Of course you’re not and you can control me with a thought.” “That’s why you haven’t tried to escape yet?” She still sounded reasonable. He gave a harsh laugh. “I haven’t tried to escape because I can’t walk. Or rather, I couldn’t get very far. I don’t know where I am, and if I try to escape, you’ll kill me, or at 127
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the least knock me unconscious. I’ve been around Sorcerers long enough to know that.” He hoped she heard the undertones. That he knew when he was beaten. “All I can hope for right now is to be useful to you. As soon as you hand me over to the labs, I’m dead. Or worse.” “They’re interested in you. You have a high tolerance for pain.” He grimaced. “I’ve had to develop a few techniques, but I don’t know if my tolerance is higher than anyone else’s.” “That’s what they want to find out.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, reminiscent of Sharon Stone’s gesture in Basic Instinct but without the aura of sexual power. But there was no doubt she was emulating Stone’s deliberate movement. Interesting. Because it was the first time he’d seen her fail at something, and the first time he’d sensed any vulnerability. He gave the response he thought she wanted. “You look extremely sexy like that.” She lifted her hand to her tight chignon and released the style. She must have taken out fifteen pins before it tumbled to her shoulders. Andros opened his mouth a little and widened his eyes, adding a tinge of desire to his outer thoughts. Then he let it increase. He cleared his throat. “You don’t need much teaching.” And caught his breath, wondering if she’d take the bait. Her slow blink told him he’d pleased her. She’d swallowed it all. Oookay. “You just need to loosen up a little. You’re incredibly attractive. Buy some silk instead of cotton, make the wool softer, draping around your figure.” Her figure was more or less perfect, but it didn’t even begin to stir him the way Faye’s soft curves did. Ah, that did it. He felt desire stir in his mind, the thoughts of Faye’s body, balanced above his, then spread below his, did everything this woman’s didn’t. Because Faye was alive, didn’t hide behind a barrier of her own making. “You should let me kiss you.” She wanted him to keep talking, so he would. “Lick your lips. Yes, really. That’s right.” He let approval warm his words when she did so, hesitantly. “That makes them look fuller, more luscious. More kissable.” He lingered on the last word. “But kisses are just the start. You can do everything except penetrative sex.” “I can do anything except come,” she corrected him. He widened his eyes. “So virgin doesn’t mean virgin?” “It does if we wish to retain all our powers.” His stomach rumbled audibly. “Sorry.” She checked her watch. “The sandwiches should be here soon.” “So full sex is out. That leaves kissing, caressing and a little oral, is that right?” She swallowed, nodded. “I guess so.” Another touch of uncertainty. But Andros didn’t fool himself. She could still wipe him out with a thought. Fuck, who was he kidding? He could be anywhere, the chip in his body was experimental and he was in
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the power of a Sorcerer who could kill him with a thought. But still, he had to try. Had to. Anything else was unthinkable. He’d gotten her to undo the top two buttons on her blouse by the time the knock came on the door. He felt her extend her mind because she didn’t bother to hide it. “Stay right there,” she said with a smile that was more like a sneer. He’d fired her ego into overdrive, made her feel so superior she was ready to take chances. At least he had to hope so. She opened the door to the waiter and Andros realized he couldn’t move. Dear God, she’d trapped him inside his own body. His heart beat, he breathed, he could blink, but he couldn’t move anything apart from that. Not a fucking thing. Fear rose, morphed into terror and he gasped for breath, caught in the early stages of a panic attack. The slow decline from walking to crutches to wheelchair was nothing compared to this. Had she fed him more drugs, different drugs? No, but that she could restrain him like this, with a thought, terrified him. Then he saw the waitress, her dark hair sleeked back into a ponytail, her nondescript black skirt and white blouse sliding over her curves. She didn’t look his way. She didn’t have to. She glanced up, dark eyes glinting. “Do you want your coffee on the table?” “No, leave everything on the cart.” Serena crossed the room and picked up her purse. She opened it, glanced down. Daria straightened. “Stay.” She didn’t even raise her voice. Serena didn’t move. Daria glanced at Andros. “Are you okay?” No, he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t use his telepathy. Nothing. Locked inside himself, completely, unable to communicate. This was unimaginable. He tried to break free, but nothing worked. “I see.” Daria called out, “You can come in now. She can’t move.” He hadn’t expected to see the vampire he’d met at the university, especially not in fairly ordinary clothes and his hair tucked behind his ears. “It’ll be dark in an hour. I’ll move him then.” Sergiu glanced at Andros. “You okay?” He could get tired of that particular combination of words real quick. Not that he could do anything about it. “I can drive her back,” Daria said, “except that we have a problem. She’s frozen Andros. I need to free her so she can release Andros, but I don’t want to do it here. I can’t take her by surprise twice.” “Oh shit,” said Sergiu. “Can’t you do it?” Daria shook her head. “I don’t know. Not here, anyway. It would take too much time.” She stared at Serena, still frozen in the act of getting a tip from her purse. Daria bit her lip. “I’ll get her in the car and drive her back.” “Will you be okay?” 129
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“Sure.” Daria’s assurance amazed Andros. He’d assumed this initiative on Serena would take hours if not days, and he’d begun to look at it as a delaying tactic, knowing he’d fail. Now a new terror gripped him. If Serena died, would he be stuck this way forever? He forced himself to breathe deeply, sucking in great drafts of air. Daria sounded in control. “In an hour, at sundown, flash him back to STORM and make him as comfortable as you can. We won’t be long.” She turned to face Andros, spoke to him very clearly. “Serena has locked you down. Everything. I can almost see the shield around you. I should be able to free you, but I can’t guarantee I can do everything right. It’s risky. She knows that. It’s like finding a computer password when you’re not sure about the possible booby traps waiting for you afterward.” Oh great. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that. A computer could be triggered to release a series of viruses if the wrong password was entered that would destroy everything inside before anyone could get to it, or recover it. So Serena could destroy him from the inside. “You’re in Paterson, New Jersey. It’ll take me a couple of hours to get back to STORM. I’m driving, you’re going with the vampire.” She smiled as if she could read the question that rose to his mind. “No, I can’t read you, she’s blocked everything, but I’d be asking that question if I were you. I’m driving because it makes me sick to flash. And because I prefer it. I’ll be perfectly safe with Serena. She can only move when I allow it. And she can’t get to you. Not until I allow that either.” Well, that answered that.
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Chapter Eleven Faye sat by his bed, waiting, holding his hand. Serena had left him with only the motor, automatic reflexes. He could breathe, he could blink, he could swallow. He couldn’t move, walk, talk, chew or communicate. She sat next to the bed where they’d made such joyous love. That in itself hurt. The vampire had flashed Andros in just after sundown. They hadn’t been too far away. Serena had got him out of the vicinity and was planning to move him on, probably meant to seal him off like this all along. When Faye met Andros’ eyes, she saw nothing. Blank. But he could see her, hear her. Harry had told her, relaying the information from Daria. She also knew that mindless chatter was the last thing he needed right now. So she held his hand and waited. Waited for Daria to deal with Serena, praying Serena didn’t die in the process. “I love you, you know.” This wasn’t mindless chatter. And if he could hear, maybe he’d know she spoke the truth. “I started on that first night. I felt like shit leaving you in that hotel room. I felt even worse when Ann made me realize Harken had fooled me. But you never said anything, never pushed me away like I deserved. I couldn’t get enough of you and I was pathetically glad for the time we had together. It won’t end. It can’t. I’ll reach you, Andros. I don’t dare try just now. I can’t risk it. But I will. With help, I will.” No response. She didn’t expect any, although she hoped. The door opened. They’d taken him to his apartment and she couldn’t help remembering. She’d left the door unlocked for anyone who wanted to come in. it seemed easier than constantly answering the door. She felt like someone sitting by the bed of a loved one in a coma. She’d even put music on low in the background, but when the playlist had run out, she hadn’t bothered finding another one. Silence seemed preferable. Ann stood in the doorway. “You can’t stay here forever.” “I need to. Right now it’s where I want to be.” “Daria will get an answer but it will take time. We can keep him alive until then.” “He hates boredom,” she said suddenly. “I just know he’s working through equations and formulae, just to keep himself from going mad.” Ann nodded. “He probably is, yes. I’m arranging something for him. A big screen with some of his current work to scroll through. He’ll need someone to help him who understands. But the TV will have to do for now. The news is interesting.”
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Faye picked up the remote and switched on the small flat-screen TV Andros kept on a table opposite the bed. Together, she and Ann lifted Andros and stuffed pillows behind his back so he could watch it. The bright-faced blonde announcer’s professional smile slowly faded. “And on a more serious note, a small town in Michigan has been the scene of some grisly discoveries today.” The camera showed a place Faye knew well. The town where she’d grown up, and then a house. The house she used to live in. The blonde’s voice continued in its soulless singsong voice, adding a few lower tones to indicate she understood the seriousness of the situation. “A macabre family business. Evidence has come to light that they have been selling Talents for years, to laboratories that killed and experimented on them. The local mayor says, “We had no idea. The whole town is devastated.” Chilled, Faye reached for Andros’ hand. “The police were tipped off by STORM, who arrested an unnamed person earlier and will hand their captive to the authorities by the end of the day. Meantime this person, who we believe to be a female Sorcerer, is being held under the authority of the FBI. She is suspected of being complicit in the murders, even though some of the records discovered by the FBI today have to be nearly a hundred years old.” Faye watched in silence, forcing down the tears that sprang to her eyes when she was reminded of her parents and what she’d left behind. She swallowed. “How is that possible? How didn’t we know?” “No laboratory,” Ann told her. “The Cardross family sold Talents for years. They passed on the skill from generation to generation. Your parents weren’t the first ones they sold, nor were they the last. Serena was just carrying on the family tradition.” Faye gaped. Ann muted the TV. “You didn’t hear? I’m sorry. I thought Daria had told you.” Faye found her voice. “Serena was a Cardross?” “Yes, my dear, I’m afraid she was.” She couldn’t doubt Ann. Already she’d learned that Ann didn’t state a fact without being totally sure of it first. “I thought I’d walked away from that.” Her head spun but slowly details returned to her. The antique weapon that Nordheim had used, the way he noticed her from her first appearance at the university. He’d worked with Serena and done her a favor when she’d asked. To draw Faye closer. If Ann was right and she was the real target that day in Nordheim’s office, it made even more sense. She sighed. “As long as you have that killing on your conscience, they will be after you and you will have that vulnerability. I want you to make a full confession to our FBI friend. He’ll file it and you might have to go to court. There is no statute of limitations on murder, but in your state, there is a limit on manslaughter and selfdefense and those have long passed. The only way you can suffer is if the judge decides to go ahead with a murder prosecution. That or nothing. That won’t happen in your case.” 132
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“But I—” Ann wouldn’t let her finish. “Self-defense. He drew his weapon first. We will provide all the legal help you need and they will run around the question until it becomes a financial burden on the state. That’s the worst-case scenario. Now we’re uncovering the truth about the Cardrosses, it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to prosecute the person who killed a mass murderer. Because that is what the Cardross family did. The authorities are more likely to thank you.” She sat numbly, clutching a hand that couldn’t grip back. He heard, he knew. “Serena was really a Sorcerer, wasn’t she? How could she be a Cardross?” “She’s the result of a union between a Cardross woman and one of the prisoners they took. Tracing her background made the last piece of the puzzle fall into place. She was brought up as a Cardross and they nurtured her Talent. They used her as a weapon.” “The bitch dies.” She would do it herself, if she had to. “Oh there’s no doubt about that.” Ann paused. “I believe Andros was identified when he linked with you publicly.” “Are you sure about Daria? Is she that good?” Faye couldn’t help her doubts now. Ann had just pulled the proverbial rug from under her feet and Faye wasn’t sure of anything anymore. No, scratch that. She squeezed Andros’ hand. She was sure of one thing. “Daria doesn’t come into the city often. She fights to maintain her sanity, sleeps in one of the iso rooms. She’s massively Talented, even for a virgin Sorcerer, and I don’t ask for her personal services too much because I know how much she suffers when she comes into the city. But we need her now. And when she discovered the existence of the Cardrosses, she insisted on coming because one of her kind was involved. It’s thanks to Daria we have discovered all of this so quickly. I know what you’re thinking.” Ann didn’t need psi, only her own native shrewdness. She stood perfectly still, framed in the open doorway, all her attention on Faye. “It wasn’t all your fault, there are other factors. I think there’s a connection between Serena and Andros. She wants him, but she can’t admit it. So she took him. She didn’t pass him on, she kept him. We waited at the hotel she took him to, hoping to pick up the next connection, the person who would take him, but all we found was someone turning up with a rented car in her name. She was taking him somewhere on her own. Maybe she planned to keep him as a kind of pet. That’s what we plan to work on, it’s what Daria is insinuating into Serena’s mind. She’s slowly stripping Serena, but there’s a danger that Serena will decide to selfcombust before Daria can get near her core. So Daria is feeding her images of Andros, reminding her that Andros is here and he needs her, that only she can unlock him from this stasis. We won’t appeal to her better nature. I don’t think she has one. But slight hints, suggestions that she might see him again or even have him for her own might keep her going. We need to move Andros now. Take him down to see her.”
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Faye held her breath. The risk was immense, but no worse than keeping Andros in this form for the rest of his life or risk destroying him. She knew what Andros would want. He wouldn’t want to live this way. Far worse than anything that had gone before. He’d go insane. He’d seen Faye’s shock when she first set eyes on him and he agreed with it. He wouldn’t live like this. He’d refuse to eat or drink if they couldn’t save him. While they heaved him out of bed, dressed him in sweats and loaded him into his wheelchair, he had time to think. It wasn’t desperation or self-pity. He’d already tried to control his blinks or even his breathing to try to communicate in a rudimentary way, but Serena had left him with only involuntary actions, the kind that kept him alive. That was cruel in itself. To do that was to turn him into the living opposite of a zombie—his mind intact, but not his body. If this proved his fate, he’d die. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it before. He even knew his preferred way and since he could still swallow, it remained his favorite. Drift away with the right drugs. Faye said she loved him. He believed her, but if he lived, she’d never move on. She’d care for him, maybe hoping for something she couldn’t have. He wouldn’t do that to her. Better to make the break and let her go on with her life. Having made the decision, Andros felt better, as if a weight had been lifted away from him. He could face death although he didn’t seek it, and he had little else to fear. He’d even found love. He wouldn’t give up yet. He had to give Daria a chance. They wheeled him down to the iso rooms. With his fingers on the rests, the feel of the raised spots where he’d put stickers of the moon and stars and the rough patch he used to pick at reminded him of times he never wanted to see again. This was a state-ofthe-art wheelchair. It reclined at a touch, moved via the joystick affixed to the control panel by his hand. Not that any of it would help him now. The last time he’d used this had been the afternoon he’d been abducted, just before his conversion. Thinking of that time reminded him of the stoicism he’d possessed, the humor he wielded like a weapon, as if death was the worst thing that could happen to him. Now he knew better. A familiar black cloud descended on him, hovering around his head. He could feel it, sense it. But he refused to let it in. Used to rejecting it, used to pushing it away, it still came much harder this time. He couldn’t fight it much longer before he’d descend into the pit of despond. Rather than that— Shit, he was doing it again. At least they didn’t encounter many people on their way to iso room three. With such a powerful and hostile being around, Ann had probably had the floor cleared, if not the building. Necessary security staff only. Ann paused before she opened the door and he knew she was checking with Daria before she entered, although he couldn’t contact anyone that way. If he concentrated, he
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could persuade himself he was back in his room, trying to meditate. Deliberately cutting the world off instead of having it forced on him. Two heads turned at their entrance, brunette and blonde. Power throbbed in the air, combative and menacing. It prickled his skin, made the small hairs stand on end. He almost welcomed it. Then came a voice in his head. Hello, Andros. Have you found a way out yet? He was so glad to hear someone he could communicate with he nearly welcomed her in. Serena. Can you fix this? Oh yes, I can fix it. But you have to give me a good reason to do it. Ann bent down and murmured in his ear. “Keep going.” Shocked that she realized what was happening, Andros almost lost it. But he had Serena now, and he concentrated on keeping her. Not that she couldn’t leave as soon as she wanted to. But he had to talk to her, not appear desperate or she’d pounce on that and use it. I can teach you what I promised, he reminded her. I might enjoy that. To take you somewhere quiet, just the two of us. They’d let me do that. No, no they wouldn’t. Not after what she had done. He felt something stir, deep inside. Was it something Serena was doing, or something that was happening despite her? It felt like cells coming to life after a long sleep. Serena turned away from him but kept her presence inside him. Then he realized what was happening. Every programmer left a backdoor or two into a program so they could get in and alter things, monitor things. Serena probably had one. That was how she’d gotten in without disturbing the layers of protection she’d put around him. Please God that was Daria he felt as an extra, lurking presence, not his own imagination. I can cope like this. I’ve been crippled before. But I’d rather not have to. A pet. Her musings sickened him. I’d like a pet. He controlled his revulsion, barely. A hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have to look, he knew it was Faye. Warmth and desire blossomed within him and he sensed the moment when Serena sharpened, her attention honed. Shit, she was going for Faye. If she did, he’d kill her. Somehow he’d make sure she died. But someone else got in the way, threw up a ring and then blocked. He couldn’t feel Serena anymore and when he tried, he couldn’t converse with her. Daria leaned back in her hard chair and covered her face with her hands. “You did well, Andros. If you try, you can move now.” He tried. It hurt, so bad, but he rejoiced that he could feel the pain. Like a masochist reveling in his suffering, he pressed his hands against the arms of the chair, flexed his
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feet. He got up from the wheelchair and took Faye in his arms. They could lock him away there if they liked.
***** They behaved themselves, right until he closed the door to his apartment. Then Andros slammed Faye against it, taking her breath, and she panted a laugh as he dragged up her T-shirt and bent to her breasts, drawing one into his mouth with ravenous hunger. He fumbled with her pants and she reached for his, dragging his sweats down as he tugged her panties away. She heard the rip as fabric tore, kicked her pants aside when he’d pulled them down enough for her to finish the job with her feet. Thank fuck she’d worn shoes she could toe off, otherwise she’d be completely hampered. And she wanted to get as close to him as she could. He touched her, roughly inserted a finger inside her pussy. “God, you’re so wet!” He thrust a couple of times but then pulled away. “I can’t wait. I need you.” “I need you too. God, I really thought I’d lost you!” She’d never forget the despair she’d hidden from him when she realized he couldn’t move, might never move again. But Daria had worked her magic and now Serena had the problem, not Andros. He still wasn’t sure what magic she’d performed, but he didn’t care, not right now. He thrust and drove his hard, wet cock into her. She lifted her legs, sandwiched between Andros and the door, loving this imprisonment. Adoring him. The door rattled when he shoved her against it, banged in rhythm to his thrusts. The sweetest music she’d ever heard. She cried out, craving his ownership of her, knowing she shouldn’t. “Just let go. Do it. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks or what they want. We’ll do what we want and we’ll love it. You want it harder, don’t you?” “Yes! Oh God, yes!” She was almost sobbing now, and if he stopped she’d beg him not to. But he didn’t stop. He grunted as he thrust, a gloriously male sound of possession. Her breath escaped in tiny pants, a yelp escaping her involuntarily with the deepest part of each thrust. He touched her sweetest spot every time, drove her higher but caressed her with his mind, curled his thoughts around her and refused to let go. “Let me come.” “Together.” Without warning, he released her mind, changed his rhythm and gave a series of sharp, hard stabs that drove her mindless. Fireworks burst in her body, bathing her with heat, but she shivered with her orgasm. She came and came until she was barely conscious. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down. She smiled up at him. “Shouldn’t we bathe?” “In a little while.” He drew a finger down her body, still half clothed and wet with her sweat and his. “Maybe I want dirty sex. Would you like that?” 136
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“If you would, so would I.” She sat, stripped off her T-shirt and reached for the back fastening of her bra. He came back to tug her into his arms. “I shouldn’t feel this exhausted.” “Stress. And you haven’t changed yet to fully heal.” She slid her hands up his chest, dotted a kiss on each pectoral, tasting the saltiness of his desire for her. “We don’t have any reason to hurry now.” “What about your job?” “They can suck it up. It’s time I changed, anyway. I was getting into a rut. I’ll think about it another time.” She didn’t care. She knew she’d have to do something, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do yet. Except stay here and fuck Andros senseless, of course. “What will they do with Serena?” He gave a short sound that sounded a bit like a laugh but not quite. “In the past they’d have taken her quietly away and executed her. She’s broken the only two laws Talents used to have in the old days.” “Never compel, never tell.” She remembered so well. Making someone do something against their will using psi and telling people outside the community what she was. Serena had done both, and she’d killed too. “Times have changed. But I can’t say I’d care if they did that.” Her hand stilled over his heart. It beat steadily against her palm. “They’ll take her to court. She’s committed murder. Daria can destroy her psi abilities so she’ll be unable to use them anymore.” He shuddered and she stroked him, trying to soothe him. “It’s over now.” “I’ll remember it. Always.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her brow. “But I won’t let it eat at me. I’ll just remember how lucky I am. To have you and to have my health.” “And to be a dragon.” She stroked the mark on his thigh, fading now, but she knew she’d see it again. He laughed. “Oh yes, definitely that.”
***** Faye turned to pick up a washcloth from the side of the bath. “Do you think they’ll want you back at the university?” Andros enjoyed the sight of her delectable figure, her breasts giving an extra jiggle when she turned back. He cupped her breast. “I should care, shouldn’t I?” He smoothed his thumb over her nipple, loving the way it came to meet him, peaked for him. Her slight sigh reaching his ears was a balm to his soul. Her skin under his questing fingers felt like everything he ever needed. “I love you.” She smiled into his eyes. “I love you too.” The moments of silence they shared were the sweetest he’d ever known. He drew her close and kissed her, gently and sweetly, sealing the unspoken bargain they’d just made. 137
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He took the cloth from her and smoothed it over her shoulder and arm, then cast it aside in favor of using his hands. He washed her all over, spreading the sweet-smelling soap that he’d bought specially for her. He’d smell like a fucking rosebush if she wanted it. When her skin was slick with soap, he slid his hands over her, relishing the warm silkiness, the feminine curves. She returned the favor, massaging his body, but when her hands crept lower, he laughed and drew her close, draping her legs over his thighs. His cock, ready and eager, touched her stomach, caressed it, leaving its own wetness there. This time there was nothing gentle about their kiss. Their mouths slammed together and they ate at each other, lips, tongues and teeth devouring rapaciously. His cock found its way home as a natural development of their union. As it slid inside her wonderful pussy, slick with the juices she’d made to welcome him in, he knew he’d never be happier than when he was inside her, never feel the thrill with anyone else. They moved together, her nipples hard against the muscles of his chest, the satin-slick flesh moving against him, counterpointing and complementing his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Let’s get married.” Her small start of surprise quivered against him and then she drew her head back and looked up at him. “Are you…? Yes. Let’s. But we live in my place, not yours. That way they can’t call you over to work as easily.” “I love your place.” Still moving, he touched his lips to hers. Then he pulled her close, enjoying her gasp when he drove deep and hard. “Lock your legs behind me, sweetheart. Oh God, you’ll kill me yet.” “What’s that?” Her feet shifted higher and she rubbed her heel against his skin. “Scales. You’re shape-shifting, Andros.” “How? I didn’t intend to.” He concentrated and felt the scales, a different sensation when she rubbed them. “Sometimes shape-shifters half-change when they’re making love.” She giggled, a delicious sound. “They can’t help it.” “Seduced by an older woman, turned into a ferocious dragon!” He laughed too, and they were so close that the vibration echoed deliciously where he was embedded in her body. He thrust, gritting his teeth when she clenched her inner muscles around his cock. He didn’t want to come yet. He wanted it to last this time. But she could work him like Charlie Parker worked a saxophone. She was part of him now. He opened his mind and took her body, knowing she was his. She ran her hands along his shoulders, shoved them into his hair, disheveling it further. A strand fell in front of his eyes and he blew it aside before she dragged him close and took another kiss. He broke away, fighting for control, but it was too late. She had him. He erupted into her with a shout, hearing her call his name and feeling her pussy clenching,
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milking him of everything he had. She could take it all. He didn’t care as long as he could reach for her in the night, contact her mind-to-mind, love her with all he was.
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About the Author Lynne Connolly writes for a number of publishers. She writes paranormal romance, contemporary romance and historical romance. She is the winner of two Eppies (now retitled the EPIC e-Book Awards) and a goodly number of Recommended Reads, etc from review sites. While these are very gratifying, that isn’t why she writes. She wants to bring the stories in her head to life and share them with others, in the hope she might then get some peace. She lives in the UK with her family, cat, and doll’s houses. Creating worlds on paper in miniature seems to be her specialty! Lynne welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Lynne Connolly Cougar Challenge: Beauty of Sunset Cougar Challenge: Sunset on Chrome Ecstasy in Red 1: Red Alert Ecstasy in Red 2: Red Heat Ecstasy in Red 3: Red Shadow Ecstasy in Red 4: Red Inferno Emotion in Motion Pure Wildfire 1: Sunfire Pure Wildfire 2: Icefire Pure Wildfire 3: Moonfire Pure Wildfire 4: Thunderfire Seychelles Sunset
Print books by Lynne Connolly Pure Wildfire 1: Sunfire Pure Wildfire 2: Icefire Red Alert Red Heat Tempt the Cougar anthology
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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