Wild Embrace (8 page)

Stopping the knife's
trajectory before it hit the wall, he brought it back to the coffee table. “Once trained, we earn excellent incomes; if the family didn't agree to a lump sum when they signed the child over to the Council, they later receive a percentage of the adult child's income.”

Lines on her forehead. “Is that usual?”

“Yes. In many ways, Psy families are as linked as changeling packs and human family groups.”

Tazia was silent for a long time. “But to give up a child . . .”

“Yes.” He'd thought about the duality of loyalty among his people more than once. “Yet consider it from my mother's point of view. She cared for me, of that I have no doubt.” Even a Psy child could tell when his mother's hand was gentle on his head, when his hurts were tended to with more than cold distance. “But she was an M-Psy, a medic. She didn't have any idea how to protect a telekinetic child from his own power.”

Seeing he had Tazia's full attention, he continued. “According to my records, one day when I was just over a year old, I apparently broke every glass in the kitchen while playing. My mother found me sitting on the floor surrounded by shards of glass. It was a miracle I hadn't been sliced or cut.”

“My God,” Tazia gasped. “If you'd crawled over the shards . . .”

“Yes. So you see, when my mother arranged training for me, she did so out of a need to protect me from myself.” Stefan had never felt anything but grateful to his mother for that. “She also never gave me up totally as some families do. I came home after school, and I knew I had a choice about where I would go with my life.”

“Didn't the Council object?” she asked. “Since telekinetics are so rare?”

“I'm sure they must've pressured her, but even the Council can't steal children, though I'm sure some children
are
simply taken, if their parents are too weak or too low-profile for anyone to notice if they have an ‘accident.'” Stefan had no illusions about the leadership of his race. “But my mother was a respected medic, well published in her field.”

“You don't think the landslide was caused by a Council Tk, do you?”

“No. There was too much damage—the Council lost an adult telekinetic in the same event, as well as a cardinal telepath. It was a natural disaster.” A disaster that had forever altered the course of his existence. “My mother was the last of her line, and after her death, my care fell to the state.”

“What about your father?”

“He had no rights per the conception and fertilization agreement that resulted in my birth—and, given the Council's interest in me, he made no move to void the agreement and gain custody.” Even now, though Stefan knew his father's identity, he felt no sense of kinship—the other man was a stranger to him. “As a result, I ended up where my mother had never wanted me to end up: alone in the hands of the Council.”

Tazia curled her fingers gently around his. “I think she would've been proud of the man you became.”

Looking into her face, Stefan could almost believe that. “I'm fractured inside, Tazi. The scars of childhood should've long healed, and yet they mark me still.”

Her eyes intent, she broke their handclasp to push up the sleeve of the soft blue blouse she'd bought from the market. “See this?” She pointed to a scar just below her elbow. “I got this when I fell onto a rock while playing with my brother.”

Rubbing his finger over the faded line, he said, “A physical scar is permitted. A mental one, never.”

“According to who?” Her fingers delicate against his jaw, the touch a fleeting one. “We're all marked by life, Stefan. The only difference is that your people like to pretend they aren't, that the Psy go through it coated in protective armor.” Breath soft against him as their faces drew closer. “You're not fractured. You're just like the rest of us, living life and getting a few knocks and bumps along the way.”

Her lips were so close, he could've bent his head, ended that distance, initiated a physical intimacy unlike any he'd ever experienced in his life. Even had the pain controls still been functioning, he wouldn't have cared, would've done it. The thing that stopped him was the thought of harming Tazia.

“Tazi,” he said softly, and it was a question.

Skin flushing with color, a sparkle in her eye. “My friends in the village,” she whispered, her lips brushing his, “they stole kisses during the festivals.” Her fingers curved around his nape. “I was always too shy and too awkward to do so, but the elders looked the other way if things didn't go further.”

His hand cupping her neck and the side of her jaw, he angled his head to deepen the contact. Her pulse stuttered under his hand, her skin hot as he closed his lips over her bottom one. Making a delicate sound in her throat, she held on tighter to his nape.

“Tazi.”

“Yes?” Her pupils were huge when she met his gaze.

“I've never done this before.”

A startled pause before her lips curved and she wrapped both arms around his neck. “Neither have I. Do you think we can figure it out?”

“You're the engineer,” he murmured, enthralled by the vibrant life of her. “You're very good at figuring things out.”

Eyes lit from within, she said, “Let me see.” A heartbeat later, she did the same thing to his lip that he'd done to hers, the caress a sweet courtship.

It was natural to respond to her touch by tasting her upper lip, and then . . . then there was no more thought, simply the furious thudding of their hearts and the damp heat of their kisses as they explored and learned together. Neither of them tutored in the skill, they simply did what felt good and everything felt good.

So good that his shields on the PsyNet would've come under critical strain had he not been bolstering them since the day Tazia walked onto the station and into his life. Layers and layers and layers, those shields kept these forbidden sensations from leaking out into the vast psychic network that connected all Psy on the planet but for the renegades. His telekinetic power was more difficult to control; it strained at the leash until the bed in the next room thumped up then down.

Tazia jerked, glanced over. “Did you do that?”

“Yes. I can't control the Tk.” Not when she was cradled in his arms, her body almost on his lap. “My focus is too fractured.” That could prove catastrophic.

Tazia ran her finger over his lips. “As an engineer, I think you should focus your telekinesis into something that requires large amounts of energy but that is nondestructive.”

Thinking about it, he kissed her again. When they broke apart this time, the water in the jug was boiling so hard, steam puffed in the air, and Tazia was laughing. “Can you train yourself to do that automatically?”

“I should be able to.” It would work for a kiss, but anything deeper and he'd have to come up with other ways to safely discharge his telekinetic energy. On Alaris, it could be dangerous to . . . but he was thinking too far ahead, wanting too much. This was a moment out of time. Nothing Tazia had said gave him a reason to believe their relationship would continue on Alaris.

“Now I understand,” she said, stroking her fingers along his jaw, “why my friends stole those kisses.”

And though Tazia had no other such experience with which to compare it, she knew Stefan's kiss was the only one she wanted. A woman knows, her mother had said to her once.

“When my father said for me to meet your father, I knew he was hoping for a match, for I'd already turned down three offers. But I was determined not to say yes until I knew—and the instant your father took my hand as we walked in the family gardens, I knew.”

It had taken Tazia longer because she hadn't
seen
Stefan for a long time, hadn't known the flesh-and-blood man beneath the Psy armor, a man of honor and courage and incredible heart. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, “for not knowing you.”

“How could you?” he said, one of his hands heavy and warm on her lower back. “I didn't let you see me. I haven't let anyone see me since childhood. Not even my Arrow brethren know me as you do.” He'd told her about the squad, about how he was a shadow member of it.

Swallowing, Tazia laid her head against his shoulder. “I'm the same. I haven't let anyone truly see me either, not since I left the village. Only you know the real Tazi.”

He stroked her hair. “It is a gift you give me, Tazi. One I will always honor.”

As she lay in his arms, Tazia thought about what would happen when this break was over and they were back on Alaris. Would they return to their shells until the next time? The thought was unbearable. Yet, what was the alternative? That she become his clandestine lover? No, she couldn't do that; it would be a step too far from the rules of her people. Slowly but surely, such a thing would break her heart into irreparable pieces.

And it wasn't only her needs and desires at stake.

“What happens if someone finds out you've breached Silence?” she whispered.

Stefan's embrace tightened. “Normally, for such a critical breach, the individual would be rehabilitated, his or her mind erased by a psychic brainwipe that would leave the rehabilitated near to a vegetable.” Speaking past her cry of horror, he said, “That's unlikely to happen to me—I'm too valuable. But they would do their best to erase the Stefan you know, erase the part of me that says you are mine.”

Such a beautiful declaration hidden in the horror, such an impossible situation.

•   •   •

They
slept and rested further for the two days that followed, and by unspoken agreement, they always slept together. Tazia well understood that she was breaking the rules in this, too, but knowing their time here would end all too soon, she couldn't not steal the joy of sleeping in Stefan's arms. Who would know if she broke faith with the teachings of her people? Her people, after all, had disowned her.

And yet, it mattered.

“I wish I could be like the new scientist on Dr. Night's team,” she whispered to Stefan as they lay together on the bed, the
moonlight coming through the blinds to create elusive patterns on their clothed bodies.

“Avril Lee?”

“Yes.” Avril had bright pink hair and a mouth that knew no boundaries. “I would like to not care what the world thought of me, not care about the rules.”

“If you were like Avril, you would not be Tazi.”

Her lips curved. “So simple?”

“Yes.” Playing with her hair as he so often did now, he said, “You told me we are shaped by life. Your life has shaped you into a woman who honors the ways of her people even as she walks her own path. There is nothing to be sorry about in that.”

Heart falling ever deeper for him, she thought of an eternity where all they could have were broken pieces of time, hidden from the world. Her soul keened. But to never have him at all? No, that was the worse sentence.

Could she become his secret lover after all?

Could she live with herself if she made that choice, or would her feelings of guilt poison the heartbreaking tenderness of the luminous thing between them?

She wished she could ask Teta Aya, or ask her mother, but there was no elder here to offer her guidance.

So she slept, her dreams a torment.

The next day, while they sat on the bed, playing a board game for no reason but that it was fun, Stefan said, “Your village is not far from here.”

“Yes.” She placed a hand over her heart as the bruise pulsed.

“I've recovered fully.” Quiet words. “I can 'port you there.”

Hope was a hot burn . . . followed by cold ashes. “No. It'll only distress my family.” She wouldn't hurt her parents for all that she needed to see them. “And I can't bear to have them turn away from
me again.” The image of her parents turning their backs the first time haunted her.

Stefan said nothing, not for long moments. “Do you have an image of a public place in your town?”

“Yes, I have digital images.” The wind from the open window brought with it the scents and sounds of the thriving city beyond. “But that would be worse than teleporting into the family home.”

“Not if we do it in the heart of night.”

Game forgotten, she stared at him. “There's never anyone in the small square behind the markets after dark. I took pictures of it because it's beautifully tiled.” Getting off the bed, she found her phone and got back on beside him, quickly scrolling through the photos. “There, see?”

Stefan went through all her images of the square. “I can 'port there,” he said at last. “The pattern of tiling combined with the cracked section on the left is highly distinctive.”

That afternoon, they went out and bought scarves to hide their faces, as well as black local dress for Stefan so that he'd attract as little attention as possible, despite his height. As for her, she wore one of the skirts and tops she'd already purchased. Getting him to sit on the bed long after night had fallen, the world so very quiet, she wrapped the black scarf around him desert-style, covering his hair, then bringing it around to cover his mouth and nose.

“You look like a warrior out of the old movies,” she teased him, her stomach flipping at the intensity of the eyes that watched her.

Stefan could say more with his eyes than most men could with a thousand words.

As she wrapped a more feminine scarf around her head in a gentler style, leaving her mouth and nose visible for now, he told her he found her beautiful. And looking into his eyes, she felt that way. “No grease streaks for once,” she said, nervous.

“I have a confession.” He rose from the bed. “I only used to say that to have an excuse to speak to you. Sometimes you didn't have grease on your face. I lied.”

Startled into laughter, she walked into his arms. “Like a boy pulling at a girl's pigtails to get her attention?”