Joam took Blake's hand and squeezed it tight. “I don't want to lose you either.”
Blake nodded. “And I know how scared you are of hurting me. But look at it this way. I've survived two uncontrolled drains so far. And this will be under more controlled circumstances. We've already risked so much, and there's so much at stake. Isn't it worth one more try? Aren't we worth it?”
The need to protect Blake by severing their bond and the need to protect him by saving their bond pulled Joam's heart in two opposite directions, but when Blake put it this way, he couldn't refuse.
Chapter Eight
“Okay, now, keep breathing, nice and slow,” coached Vic.
They were in the safe room in the basement. Joam was in varnal midform. Blake lay flat on the padded floor, looking up at Joam with trust in his eyes. He wasn't afraid. Joam supposed he was terrified enough for the both of them, which didn't prevent him from being incredibly turned on. Having a spectator made no difference either, apparently. It seemed that Joam could not be in varnal form around his lifemate without sprouting a rock-hard erection. Blake just smelled so good. And the heat that rolled off his body was so enticing. Already Joam felt the urge to draw in all that wonderful, warm sex, and he wasn't even touching Blake yet.
“It's okay, you can touch him,” said Vic. “I won't let anything bad happen.”
Joam nodded, breathed deeply, and placed his hands on Blake's shoulders.
“Mmmm,” Blake moaned, a lazy smile playing across his lips. “That feels good.”
“Keep breathing, and notice the boundary between your energy and Blake's,” said Vic.
Joam did as he said, taking long, slow breaths and observing. At first all he was aware of was the tantalizing sensation of Blake's arousal feeding his own. It seemed as if they were one body, and he wondered how he could stop from absorbing all that Blake had to give when it already felt like it was a part of him.
But then he detected something else. Not a boundary exactly, but movement. He could feel Blake's energy as it washed over him, and that meant Blake's energy was separate from his own.
He focused on that awareness until he could visualize Blake's energy as a stream.
“Stay focused. Just nod your head when you feel it.”
Joam nodded. The more he focused on it, the more clear it became. Blake's energy was like a river, and even now, with just the touch on his shoulders, it was flowing into him. He was about to break the contact and shift back into human form, but then Vic said, “Once you've identified the flow, you can control it. Try it now. Try slowing the flow down.”
Joam imagined Blake's energy as a river, and he focused on the image of the river narrowing to a tiny stream. He felt the flow of energy abate. It worked! Only a rivulet of Blake's energy trickled into him now.
The surprise of it made him gasp and lift his hands from Blake, breaking the contact.
“That's great,” said Vic. “Change back. We'll take a break.”
They had lunch, and Joam ate with newfound relish, washing down the chicken salad sandwich with a big glass of Saffron's cinnamon tea. In the afternoon, Vic worked with them some more. By the end of the day, Joam had better control over his abilities and renewed hope for his future with Blake.
* * * * *
After dinner, Joam helped Vic with the dishes while Saffron, Enid, and Jimmy retired to the living room to watch television, and Blake went upstairs to take a nap. When the last plate was dried, Vic said, “We're going out again tonight. Want to join us?”
Joam shook his head. “No. I think I'll stay behind. I'd really just like some time alone with Blake.”
Vic smiled. “Sure. I understand.”
After the varnals left and Jimmy was settled on the couch, Joam went upstairs to check on Blake.
Halfway down the hallway, he put one foot down and felt every fiber of his sock against the sole of his foot, and the creak of the floorboards beneath him sounded like a symphony. He could smell the lingering odor of dish soap on his hands and up ahead, on the other side of that door, Blake. He was about to change into varnal form, without willing it. Again.
But hadn't he learned to control it? What about all those drills? Had he learned nothing? Joam focused on his breathing and his body, his mind clinging to his human form, trying to keep the change at bay. But somehow the image slipped away, and he felt the now-familiar tug and flow of the shift.
And once he was in varnal form, the smell of Blake on the other side of their bedroom door was overwhelming. It awakened something deep inside him, an unreasoning, animal hunger. Oh God, he was so hungry.
He was instantly hard, every pore of his body crying out for stimulation, for heat and sex. The desire was so intense, it was painful. But the answer to his pain was right on the other side of that door. Why not just take it? It was his, wasn't it? All his concerns about harming Blake seemed inconsequential now. Nothing was more important than making this agony end. He was a varnal. This was what he did.
Joam sprang at the door. It gave with a loud snap, and he was inside, turning to where Blake sat up blearily in the bed. “Joam?” he said, surprise in his voice. His smell—God, that smell—washed over Joam like liquid sex, sharpening his desire to even more painful extremes.
Joam jumped up onto the bed and wrested the covers aside. He grabbed Blake's pajama bottoms with his teeth and ripped them from his body.
“Joam!” protested Blake, half laughing. “Easy, boy!” Then he caught a glimpse of the look in Joam's eyes and sobered. “Joam? What are you—”
Joam didn't give him a chance to finish the question. He grabbed Blake's ankles with his forehands and pulled them up, sending Blake onto his back. Blake's eyes were wide, his breath rapid. “Joam, wait.”
Joam pushed Blake's ankles over his head, exposing his ass. Joam's cock throbbed at the sight of the little brown bud, and the smell of fear coming off Blake was no deterrent either. He could just imagine how it would be in another second when he slammed into Blake and fucked him senseless. He inched his hind legs closer to Blake's ass and took aim.
Something hard and unforgiving struck Joam across the back of his head. The blow knocked him sideways, and he fell off the bed. He lay there, stunned. What…what was he doing?
Horror at what had almost happened flooded him. He sat up, shook his head, and looked to where Jimmy stood at the foot of the bed, one of Saffron's frying pans in his hand. The blow would have killed him if he'd been in human form. Seeing the fear in Blake's face as he scrambled into the corner and pulled the covers over himself made Joam wish it had. He ran past Jimmy, and down the stairs and out of the house.
Blake forced his hands, gripping the bedspread to his chest, to unclench. He stared at Jimmy, his mind a blank. What had just happened? Was that Joam just now? He knew it was. The question was just an attempt to avoid the truth. Because of their life bond, he knew it was Joam. And because of their life bond, he knew what Joam had been feeling.
He was trembling, he realized. He couldn't get his mind around any of it. The way Joam had knocked the door down, attacked him, what was in his mind as he was about to plunge into Blake's body with no preparation, no love or consideration, just hunger, and the brutal determination to satisfy his hunger no matter what the cost.
Blake looked at Jimmy, who still stood at the foot of the bed, the frying pan in his hand. Joam would have killed him if Jimmy hadn't come in when he did. That was just another one of the impossible truths the last two minutes had forced on him. “Th-thank you,” said Blake, and then he burst into tears.
Jimmy sighed. “We don't have time for that. We've got to go.”
Blake took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Jimmy still clutched the frying pan in one hand, and he stared at Blake with impatience in his intelligent hazel eyes. “They said you were brain-dead,” said Blake. “They made it seem like your condition was permanent.”
“They want Joam to think that so he'll be even more freaked out about the possibili
ty of hurting you.” Jimmy crossed to the dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt. He handed them to Blake. “Enid's been systematically draining me. The only reason I've been able to recover now is that with you here she's had to wait until the middle of the night to do it, and she can only do it once a day. I've been able to shorten the sessions by seeming more out of it than I really am. And the last couple of days, she's been distracted, what with the ritual coming up and all.”
Blake pulled on the jeans. “You mean the severing ritual? But we haven't agreed—”
“Hurry up. We've got to get out of here before they get back.”
“But what about Joam?”
“He can take care of himself.”
Blake wasn't so sure. “What you're saying—Saffron, Vic, and Enid… They're not activists promoting cross-species education and welfare, are they?”
Jimmy laughed. “An outreach group in the middle of nowhere? Are you that naive? No, they're not. I first encountered them while I was investigating a rash of murders in LA. There was suspected gang activity, but the deaths were clearly caused by varnals. The trail led to their pack, but they were working for someone else. I never found out who it was. My cover was blown, and as you can see, they made me their plaything.”
“You're a cop,” said Blake, buttoning his shirt.
Jimmy tilted his head to one side. “Not exactly. I'm an onmiogi. A very weakened, out-of-practice onmiogi.”
Blake froze in midbutton. “A good sorcerer,” he said, trying to keep the judgment out of his voice. It was one thing to watch one on TV, but another to be face-to-face with one in real life.
Jimmy laughed out loud. “No. Not a good sorcerer. There's no such thing. Even if you start out with the best of intentions, sorcery will corrupt you. It's inherently evil because it perverts the natural order. I'm a Buddhist priest trained to fight sorcery. Do you consider Catholic priests who do exorcisms to be sorcerers?”
Blake shook his head.
“Well, it's the same principle in a different tradition. Now come on. We have to go.”
Blake followed Jimmy down the stairs and into the hallway, but there he stopped. “I won't leave Joam behind.”
Jimmy gave a pained sigh. “Joam can take care of himself.”
Blake shook his head. “You don't know him. I don't know why he did that just now. Joam would die rather than hurt me. If Vic and Saffron are bad…they must have done something to him.”
Jimmy nodded. “Oh, they've been doing something to him, all right. I've been trying to tell you, but I couldn't get it together enough in time. Come here.” He led Blake into the kitchen, where he opened up the refrigerator and pulled out the jug of iced tea. “She uses cinnamon to hide the flavor of the houndsbane.” He opened a cupboard and pulled a jar down from the top shelf. “See?” He shook it. Twigs with tiny, gray, fuzzy leaves rattled inside. “It only affects varnals. It suppresses certain higher brain functions that control their impulses. What you get is basically a totally id-driven varnal. Very dangerous.”
“Oh my God!”
“Yeah. This pack isn't fucking around. I'm pretty sure what went down upstairs just now was supposed to be the final act in their preparations. We better hurry if we want to get out of here before they come back.”
“But what about Joam?”
“First of all, you're assuming he's coming back. Even if he does, he's still better equipped to deal with them than you are. Once we get to civilization, I can contact my organization. They'll try to help him.”
Another supposed organization. Blake wasn't about to trust Joam's survival to anything as murky as that. But he followed Jimmy out of the kitchen and into the living room anyway. From the look in Joam's eyes the second before he fled, he knew what he'd done and was heartbroken about it. Maybe he wouldn't return here. Maybe Blake could use the bond between them to find him.
As they reached the foyer, the door clicked open. For one wild moment Blake thought it was Joam returning, and then the door swung wide and Saffron and Vic, in full varnal form, stood there staring at them.
Jimmy grabbed Blake by the collar and shoved him behind him. “Run. Try to get help,” he said, raising his other hand palm outward, with the two middle fingers folded against his palm and his index and pinkie fingers pointing toward the sky. White light surrounded his hand and then expanded outward, causing the varnals to take a step back.
Blake turned and ran for the back door. As he plunged through it and onto the porch, furry arms wrapped around him from behind. He struggled to free himself but was overcome by dizziness. The last thing he was aware of was his knees buckling as his consciousness faded into gray static like an out-of-tune radio station.
Joam ran as if his tail were on fire. In his heart, where, he realized, his link with Blake was centered, he could feel his lover's fear and confusion, and despite it all, his longing for Joam to return. Joam tried to ignore it and ran on. It was the only thing he could think to do, put as much distance between them as possible to protect Blake. Even if doing so hurt Blake.
He still didn't understand what had happened back there. It was as if he'd been out of his mind, totally out of control of his actions. One thing was certain—he could never put Blake at risk from another slip like that again.
He sucked in the cool air as his paws ate up the ground, and he dodged around trees and fallen logs. He didn't know where he was going, or what he would do once he got there.
He was at the far edge of the woods when sudden terror from Blake overrode his efforts to ignore their link. It seared his heart, and the sudden emptiness that followed made Joam stop in his tracks, his own panic seeping through his body like cold rain. What had happened to Blake?
Joam turned around and ran back toward the house as fast as his legs could carry him.
Blake floated in a gray fog. Distantly he could hear voices but only caught snatches of their conversation.
“…will be here soon…”
“…bastard got away…”
“…is ready, the time is right…”
“What if he doesn't return?”
He struggled against the fog and felt it recede a little bit. He became aware that he was lying on a padded rubber mat. People were talking nearby. He could make out more of their conversation now.
“Hey, I said I'm sorry, all right?” Enid sounded defensive.
“Sorry won't bring our pet onmiogi back,” said Saffron.
“Or mend the damage he did before he got away. If he hadn't interfered, Blake would be dead now and Joam would be primed for the sacrifice,” said Vic, sounding nastier than Blake had ever heard him.
Sacrifice? Oh no, not again.
“This ritual is just as good as the other one we had planned,” said Saffron. “Walsh won't care as long as he gets what he wants.”
When Joam got back to the house, Saffron and Enid met him at the door, their faces tight with worry. “Thank God you came back,” said Saffron. “He doesn't have much time left.”
Joam shifted, the fluid stretch emphasizing the churning fear in his stomach. “What happened to him?”
The women exchanged a glance. “We were hoping you could tell us that,” said Enid.
“Why did you leave? You must have gone pretty far…”
In breathless gasps, Joam told them about how he lost control and what he almost did. Seeing the shock and pain in their faces made his guilt twist in his guts like a knife.
“I don't understand,” said Saffron. “After everything we've taught you…”
Joam couldn't bear her recrimination. “But he was alive and well when I left here. It wasn't until I made it to the other side of the forest that I felt something happen to him. He lost consciousness or something. What happened? Where is he?”
“We came back and found him collapsed in your room,” Enid told him. “We feared you might have had a relapse and drained him.” She said it as if that was what had happened.
“But I didn't. I was going to; I
was out of control, but Jimmy came in and found us. He hit me on the head with a frying pan, and that snapped me out of it. Where is Jimmy, anyway? I want to thank him.”
“He's resting,” said Enid.
Saffron gave her a funny look before turning to face Joam again. “You must have drained him without realizing it. In the shock of being hit by Jimmy, you probably missed it.”
“But Blake was awake when I fled.”
“A delayed reaction,” said Enid. “It happens sometimes.”
“Why don't you come inside, and we'll talk about that? Vic is with him right now. He may be able to tell us something helpful.”
Something was wrong. What they were saying didn't quite make sense, and the way Saffron had looked when he mentioned Jimmy… “But why would—”
“Do you want to see him?”
“Yes, please!”
Saffron gave him her warmest smile. “Follow me.”
Just as they entered the kitchen, Vic came in from downstairs. “He's stable, for now, but if we can't—Oh, Joam, thank God.” He came over and gave Joam a hug. Desperate to hang on to something, anything, Joam hugged him back.
“From what Joam says, it's a delayed reaction,” said Saffron.
Vic's eyes widened. “That's bad. He's in a coma already; if it gets worse…” They all looked grave.
“What?” demanded Joam.
“We know how adamant Blake was about not severing your bond,” said Vic, “but I'm afraid it's the only way to save him now.”
Was? “Is. Blake is. He's not dead.”
Awakenings 2: Instinct Page 10
