by Holley Trent
“And that’s what you’re doing. You’re seeing what’s old, and what’s new.”
“Most of the magic is old. It was just suppressed.”
“It’s coming back more to some people than to others. Have you figured out why?” Her genuine curiosity was appealing to him. He was so tired of women pretending to not be interested in things, especially things that directly affected them.
“Not completely. I interviewed Ótama, though. That was one of the first things I did after I formally accepted the job months ago. Most of the folks at the mansion suspect that the power is being distributed in a trickle-down fashion, filtered through the queen and chieftains. The people nearest them on the Afótama web would obviously get more than the folks on the fringes.”
“Like Ben.”
Will brought his beer to his lips and chose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t be so quick to assume that he’s on the fringes, and I wasn’t interested enough in him to determine otherwise back at the restaurant.”
“But, you’ll have to interview him. Or one of your assistants.”
“Someone will, I suppose.” Likely, not Will. It was impossible for him to do sound research on someone he was hostile to. As rational and logical as he was, Erin was meant to be his other half. Being evolved didn’t mean he wouldn’t perceive the other man as a threat. Ben would be a threat until Erin understood who Will was.
“He’s way down on your priority list, huh?”
Will shrugged, and set his beer bottle on the table. “The folks in the mansion and their immediate families will keep me busy for a while.”
“I bet. Ready for another question?”
“Sure.”
“From what distance are you able to participate in a telepathic conversation?”
“Conversation? About a mile, depending on who it’s with. Obviously, I’ll have greater ease with one of my parents than someone who isn’t related to me. For simple thought conveyance of a word or two, a couple of thousand miles.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Seems to be about average, from what I’m finding.”
She scoffed, then pressed her palms to her eyes and rubbed them. “That makes me well below average, then. I can’t even do the mile. Story of my life. Gods, what is fucking wrong with me?”
“It’s all right. It’s a petty thing.” He eased behind her and put his hands onto the table at both sides of her waist. Pressing his chest against her back, he tucked his chin over her shoulder and put his cheek to hers.
She let her hands fall and blew out a long breath. “Why do you feel so good?”
“I shaved this morning.”
She gave him a playful nudge with her ass and laughed. “Not what I meant, and you know it.”
He gave her a poke back of his own, though no one could call it playful, by any means. Her mere proximity made him painfully hard, and it was a situation he was entirely unused to. His control was usually immaculate, but he couldn’t help wanting to touch her. If she gave him an inch, he’d take everything.
She bumped him again. “Quit it, or you’re going to get yourself in trouble.” She turned a page, but she wasn’t reading what was in the binder. She was broadcasting on every available frequency, “Think of something. Think of something. Blahblahblah.”
He chuckled and tickled her earlobe with the tip of his nose. “You think that works on me, huh?”
“Damn it.”
“What kind of words are you trying to cover up?”
“I’ll never tell you.” She cleared her throat. “What was the duration of the longest telepathic conversation you’ve ever had?”
“You don’t really care about that, do you?” Slowly, he slid his hands off the table’s edge and tucked them just beneath the hem of her shirt. Her body tensed, and breathing hitched, but she didn’t try to move away. She curled her fingers loosely against the binder pages and looked over her shoulder.
“I’m curious, so yes. I’d like to know.”
“I think there are things you’d like to know more about. Am I right?” He hooked his thumbs inside her waistband and pulled the elastic out a couple of inches.
She swallowed and looked down. “There’s a lot I’d like to know.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m not as interesting as you.”
“I think you actually mean that. That’s a pity.” He slipped his hands into her panties and pulled her back against him when she reflexively jerked away. “Be still.”
He inched farther, slowly, until his fingertips came together at the apex of her thighs.
“Smooth.”
“Habit.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He worked a thumb over her clit, strumming it slowly as he moved a finger into her cleft. He danced his fingertip up and down the opening as she pushed back against him more and spread her legs. “Tell me,” he whispered.
“I…fuck.” She tipped her head back and sucked some air in through her mouth.
He increased his sensual assault on her sex, sweeping faster across her nub and working his index and middle fingers into her up to the second knuckles.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
“I…sometimes I teach swimming. So, I shave.”
“You shave that completely?”
“If I’m…oh, gods.” She pushed her shoulder blades together and writhed away from his body, but there was nowhere for her to go except over the table.
Over the table.
With his free hand, he yanked her pants down below her ass and leaned her onto the narrow surface.
She whipped her head left and right, darting her gaze down to the street and to nearby buildings, but even if there was anyone who could see, Will didn’t care.
He pulled her earlobe between his lips and let his free hand take over the attention to her clit while using his other fingers to tease her tight hole. “Do you think you’ll like being watched as much as you like watching? You’re so wet. I think you would.”
“I think it would depend on who was watching.”
“Fair enough.”
“Are we going to…”
He added a third finger to her sheath, and she stretched onto her tiptoes and nearly squeezed him out.
He stilled his hands, and after a few seconds, she wriggled against them.
“Don’t stop doing that.”
“Are you sure? Seems like you’re trying very hard to get away.”
“No.”
“Finish your question. Are we going to do what?”
“Are you…going to have sex with me?”
“No.”
She tried to slip away from him, but he hooked his leg around hers and pinned her between his body and the table.
“I bet you would like that. The mix between pleasure and fear, wondering if the people upstairs or downstairs can hear your moans. Wondering if the people on the street can see what I’m doing to you.” He fluttered his fingertips against the front of her channel and gave her clit a tug.
She hissed.
“But I’m not going to do that. Not now. I’m fairly sure I can convince you there are other ways to receive pleasure.”
“I don’t doubt that. It’s just been…”
“So long? All the more reason to wait, I think.”
He could hardly believe he was thinking such a thing. He’d never been the kind of man who liked waiting. While he didn’t necessarily demand instant gratification, he liked knowing when exactly he’d be reaping the benefits of his good behavior.
But, Erin was his partner. He knew it to be truth just like he knew the day of the week. It was incontrovertible. He wanted the moment he was finally inside her to be when she realized that he was the last man she’d ever have, or would ever want.
He turned her, slowly, and sank carefully to his knees, keeping his gaze turned up to her.
Her cheeks were almost as red as the glowing stoplight down on the corner, pupils large, and breath thready. He tugged her stretchy pants d
own to mid-thigh and, wrapping his fingers around her ankles, he pushed her feet a bit farther apart.
Again, she flitted her gaze around their surroundings, and while she checked to ensure the coast was clear, he spread her down-below lips and flicked his tongue against her clit.
“Will!” She grabbed his hair as if to urge him away, then gasped when he drew her nub into his mouth. “Oooh, gods.” She tipped her head back and slipped her other hand into his hair, not to pull, but to hold on, it seemed.
With the tip of his tongue, he rubbed her clit in firm, persistent circles that had her thighs quavering beside his head, and her attempts at mind-to-mind discourse little more than fragmented thoughts. The mental equivalent of a stutter, perhaps.
“You should be touched and often,” he thought at her and slipped his fingers inside her once more.
“I…I agree.”
“It isn’t good for us to go so long without being touched.”
“Mmmmm, mm-hmm.” She rocked her hips and passed more of herself against his tongue, his lips. “No argument from me. Do I get to touch you, too?”
He didn’t answer beyond increasing the speed of his fingers and thrusting his tongue against her against and again.
“Fuck! I’m… Oh, my gods. Please…please tell me that half of Norseton can’t hear my thoughts right now.”
“Don’t worry about that. Worry about making me happy. I want you to come on my tongue.”
Her thoughts were far too scattered at the moment for even a telepath of considerable strength to discern, so he found it highly doubtful that anyone else would be able to figure out what she was up to. When they were more closely bonded, he could help her learn to shield herself and how to close off her thoughts when she needed to, but for the moment, all he could do was reassure her.
She rolled her hips again and pushed some air through her clenched teeth.
He licked, flicked, fluttered, and smiled when she clamped her thighs against the sides of his head and swore loudly and violently as her sex contracted against his face and around his fingers.
A door slid open downstairs, and the neighbor called up, “Everything all right?”
“No worries.” Will gave Erin one last lick to lap up all the delicious cream, and rolled his gaze up to her. Her usually narrow eyes had gone hilariously round. “Just a stubbed toe.”
“Oh, man,” the guy said. “You gotta be careful with the balcony furniture. If the pointy corners and legs don’t give you tetanus or damn near shear off one of your pinkie toes, the paint will flake off on you. I’m pretty sure there’s lead in it.”
Erin let out a little scoff and pulled her panties up. Briefly, Will regretted not having a chance to undo the ties at the sides, but then his mind rewound to his new neighbor’s absurd statement. “Lead?”
“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya, man. I’m a doctor. My sense of humor could probably use a little work.”
Will pushed up an eyebrow at Erin. “Know him?”
She shook her head. “Must be a returnee like you. We had three doctors to serve the entire community and one was nearing retirement. The folks at the mansion might have convinced a couple of the younger émigrés to come back.”
Will nodded. “You keep being you,” he called downstairs.
“I’m sure my roommate wishes I wouldn’t be. Chris Holst. I guess you just moved in?”
“Still moving in. Will Valle.”
“Nice to pseudo-meet ya.”
“Likewise.”
“Hey, why don’t you come on down for a beer or two? It’s nice knowing Paul and I aren’t the freshest meat in the building anymore. Maybe the old-timers will start hazing you instead.”
“Hazing?”
“Yeah, man. They’re real fuckin’ creative. If you’re lucky, you won’t step outside barefooted to grab your newspaper and find out someone has smeared chocolate pudding on your hand-me-down welcome mat. The savages…”
Erin clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t quite stifle her laugh.
Will gave her chin a chuck and grinned at her. He hadn’t been in the company of very many women in the past few years whose first instinct in response to such a silly thing was to laugh. Most he’d known would scoff, roll their eyes, or both. Or perhaps they’d mutter something about immature adults and how they wished people could act their ages.
Sometimes, acting one’s age was just the hardworking martyr’s way of waiting to die.
“What kind of beer do you have down there?” Will asked.
“It’s this weird home brew one of the guys from my high school graduating class brought over. It’s not bad, but the aftertaste has got a bit of a funk about it. Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to shop yet.”
“I’ve got a case of Modelo.”
“Sweet baby Thor, bring it.”
“Mind if I bring a guest?”
That red flush spread up Erin’s neck to her cheeks again.
“Yeah. The more the merrier. See you in a bit.”
The door downstairs clicked shut.
Will brushed his thumbs across her flushed cheeks. “Feel like making some friends?”
She shrugged. “I can’t imagine having anything in common with them, but I like to be able to put faces to names.”
He grabbed their half-empty beer bottles from the table and led her inside. She probably thought she didn’t have much in common with Will, either, but there they were. As a researcher, he’d learned pretty quickly that most people assumed they were more different than alike. They looked for dissimilarities to excuse themselves for not connecting with other people, when it only took one little kernel of commonality to start a relationship. Once they had that, finding ways to relate was easier and easier in time.
Will didn’t presume to know how a woman so fully knit into the Afótama web could be so blind to possibilities, but he fully intended to help her open her eyes.
One touch at a time, if need be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Erin hated feeling like she wasn’t putting her best foot forward, and in recent months she had been feeling that way more and more. She’d bumped into Will out on the trail after a dozen years, dressed in schlubby exercise gear. She’d gone to dinner dressed like that, too, and out on the sidewalk for public viewing, no less. Going downstairs in those same clothes—now tugged a bit out of shape due to Will’s talented fingers and mouth—barefooted, and clutching a case of beer to her chest made her feel positively brazen and practically amoral.
Will, however, was cool as a cucumber when a man with short-cropped blond hair pulled the door open. The stranger wriggled his eyebrows and swept his arm toward the interior of his apartment. “Come on in. Excuse the set-in pizza smell. That’s basically all we’ve been eating for two weeks. Came home, and they put us right to work like the strong young mules we are.”
Will let the door close behind him and put his hand to the small of her back. “This is Erin Petersen. She’s the saint who’s been keeping me company all day.”
Chris affected an exaggerated pout. “I need a saint. Paul and I have been roomies since med school, but we’re so used to each other at this point, we’re practically blind to each other’s presence. Come on in and take a load off.” He took the beer and headed through the double-door width opening Erin knew had to lead to the kitchen and other rooms. The floor plans had to be more or less identical, with the exception being the roof access.
Will guided her away from the door, and she was thankful for it. She would have stood there as if her feet had put down roots and adhered her to the glossy, hardwood floor.
She must have been moving too slowly, because he got in front of her, and set his hands on her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”
“I dunno. I…” She shrugged. She felt stupid admitting it, but she’d already made herself sound stupid so many times in front of him. One more shouldn’t have been so disturbing. “I haven’t been to many people’s homes, except for people in my fami
ly and a handful of friends my parents know. I guess I really don’t know how to behave.”
So. Pathetic. She really needed to make some changes in her life, and soon. She wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it until she sprung to action in some way.
“My transition into adulthood had occurred far away from Norseton,” Will projected. “I honed my social skills in a variety of sorts of gatherings, from mixers, to study groups, to frat parties. After graduation, I hung out, as most social-minded people did, with friends at their places or met them at bars. I’m comfortable navigating through various settings because I’ve been to so many. I bet everything seems shiny and new to you.”
She suspected that yes, she was that lame.
“I really need to take you someplace. Any place,” he said silently.
“Please do.”
He pushed a few errant hairs behind her ears and stroked the pads of his thumbs along her jaw. “Just relax. Can you feel Chris on the web? Or Paul?”
They hadn’t seen him yet, but evidently Will could tell he was nearby—possibly in one of the bedrooms.
“Both men are putting out amounts of psychic energy that are typical for people of Afótama descent.”
“So they should have been easy enough for a fellow clansperson to home in on them, is what you’re saying.”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“Really? Neither?”
“Not at the moment. That’s not normal, right?”
He didn’t answer, and that was answer enough. What does that mean?
Chris returned clutching four bottles by the necks and handed one to both of them. “Paul will be out in a minute. He’s on his hands and knees with a flashlight trying to find a contact lens and won’t let me help. Have a seat.”
They moved to the sectional, and Erin took a seat at one of the ends, putting herself between the armrest and Will. He had to think she was some kind of loser, but she didn’t even know how to pretend to be functional. She’d never been the kind of woman who clung to regrets, but she regretted not leaving like a few of her friends had at eighteen. Very few stayed gone, but even a few months out in the world would have given her the life lessons she needed to engage with people.
