Blood Moons (17 page)

clever woman. She knew what the authorities would do with her work. Though her situation now was lamentable, she'd become a doctor to help people, not hurt them. Now she'd made sure no one would be able to recreate and bastardize her results, possibly ever.

She'd demanded her only semi-successful DNA recombination patient—Tristan. He was the only one who had survived the initial introduction of animal DNA, and she had legitimate reason for wanting to continue monitoring him, which was the only reason they'd even considered it.

Apparently they'd ultimately agreed because he hadn't caused any trouble in the last few months. And because they wanted Amelia's research too much to refuse.

Tristan was getting transferred out on good behavior.

Better than in a body bag,
he thought with a careless shrug.

Still...

"I'm not leaving," he told her.

Amelia stared at him for a moment. She glanced at Dara, then at the door to see if anyone was eavesdropping. "No, you don't understand, Tristan," she said quietly. "We're
all
leaving, Dara too."

Dara put it together faster than he could. She shuddered and swayed back. If he hadn't been there, she would have fallen over. He put his arms around her to steady her, but he couldn't reach her mind past the thick fog of sheer terror that suddenly clouded it. "Oh, God," she whispered and he could feel her grow cold. "He's killed again."

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150

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

Half of the guards stayed behind after Dr. Chase left, but Dara didn't believe the illusion of safety for a second. She was on edge, scared and pissed off and, if the silent treatment she was getting from Tristan was anything to go by, he was in little better shape.

It was probably her emotional state he was picking up on and tuning into.
He
certainly had nothing to be on edge about. He was getting transferred to a place that would be like a holiday resort compared to this.

But for Dara, the story would be quite different. She'd thought this was bad—and it was—but she had a feeling that her life was about to take a swan dive into something worse.

Because the killer had struck again.

Because she'd given the police detailed information about the last murder, and because she'd done it minutes after the fact, from across the city. They couldn't hold her on the murder charge any more, but they would drill her mercilessly to find out how she'd known what she'd reported.

And what if she slipped up? What if they found out she was really a telepath?

Better for them to think she was an accomplice. If she cooperated and helped them find the real killer, they might even be lenient on her accessory to murder charges.

But that meant she would have to look into his mind again.

Deliberately this time. To convince them that she knew 151

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something, she had to
know
something, and the only way to find out was to make contact again. It exponentially raised her chances of getting caught—by the killer as well as the authorities. At the moment she didn't know which scared her more.

"You're not ready,"
Tristan said.
"Nowhere near ready to
do that."

She knew that, of course. There were too many what-ifs that she might not even realize until it was too late.

"Would you really be so willing to try it?"
he asked.

"No. I wouldn't
want
to do it, but I may not have a choice."

"There are always choices!"

"Yeah? Then give me an alternative. How would you
explain to them what I knew?"

Silence.

"Then teach me what I need to know."

"It would take more time than we have."
Though they were both going to the same colony, they might end up in completely different camps. His crime was far worse than hers, but even without that, she had something the officials wanted. They would want her isolated for the interrogation.

Just that word
interrogation
made her shudder. Just how far would they go to get information out of her? This little stay in New Alaska was enough to give her a pretty good idea about the value placed on human life in prisons. Depending on how badly they wanted to catch this guy, how guilty they thought she was, and the value they placed on what she knew ... she had no idea what to expect. But she was pretty sure it wouldn't be anything good.

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by Alianne Donnelly

"You're right,"
she told him.
"Let's just sit here and stare
at the walls. That's a much better way to spend our last few
hours here."

"You're asking me to teach you how to stay silent in
another's mind for extended periods of time, despite external
stimuli, while gleaning information
and
not getting caught.

Any one of those would take years to master. You want to do
it in a mater of hours?"

"I can at least try."
What other choice did she have?

He was silent again, his thoughts buzzing behind an almost transparent veil he'd cast over himself. He did that a lot now; he didn't want her to see what he was thinking, but didn't want to block her out completely, either.

"We do this my way,"
he finally said.
"You enter my mind,
and no one else's. If you do it right, I won't know you're
there, so I'll need some sort of sign."

"I can do that."

"This won't be easy, Dara. No matter what happens, you
cannot flinch. You have to go on as if you're you, but in my
mind, you have to be like a ghost."

"Fine. Let's do it."

He was still hesitant, but he'd do it. They might never see each other again and even though Dara had already learned a lot from him, there was still a lot more she needed to learn about her abilities. After tonight, she would have to learn it on her own. But this, he could still do, and as far as teaching went, Dara knew that Tristan wasn't one to let an opportunity pass by.

"Let me know when you're in."

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by Alianne Donnelly

No more instructions. Dara closed her eyes and imagined herself as smoke. Nothing but mist in the air. In that form, she could go wherever she wanted. She floated up toward Tristan's bunk and settled silently over his mind. Her consciousness seeped into his, contracting slowly, carefully into something so small that—she hoped—he wouldn't be able to perceive it.

When she opened her mind's eye, she saw what Tristan saw. He didn't seem to react to her presence at all and if he noticed, he gave no sign of it. She knew that if he noticed, he
would
give a sign of it, so she relaxed a little. This at least she knew how to do. Now would come the hard part. She gave a small wriggle in his mind to let him know she was there, then settled quietly again.

Tristan slid off his bunk, graceful as a cat and faced her where she sat with her eyes closed. It was pitch-black in the cell, and still he could see her clear as day. He cupped her cheek. "Open your eyes, Dara," he said. She was an apt student. He couldn't find her in his mind, though she was there. But now she had to react with her body as if it still housed her mind. It was near impossible for humans to pull off, the ultimate in multitasking—thinking of two different things at the same time and comprehending them.

He didn't expect her to be able to do it on her first try, but if this was their last night together, then he wanted to make the most of it. After tonight, he had no idea what to expect.

How would the animal part of him react to her absence? In the past few days, whenever she hadn't been in the same room, he'd walked a razor's edge of control. He'd felt both the 154

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compulsion to find her, and the aggressive need to lash out at whoever he decided was keeping her from him—which meant anyone in his way.

Dara thought he spent all this time teaching her because he wanted to help her. In truth, he couldn't leave her, because he had no idea what would happen to him if he did.

Tristan had a bad feeling that he wouldn't be able to see her walk away without doing something violent. Without her there to ground him, he knew that the animal would take over. His mind would change, and his body would become stronger, out of control. His senses would overwhelm him and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from changing completely, even if it ended up killing him like so many others in Dr. Chase's study.

Tristan had to make Dara stronger, expand her range as far as it could go. He could meet her halfway if necessary, but he needed her always within contact range.

Dara's brows drew together. She was trying to do as he asked.

Tristan brushed his mouth over hers. "Open your eyes," he whispered against her lips.

The gentlest of quivers in his mind was the only indication she was struggling. A normal person would barely notice.

Then she opened her eyes and he watched them shift rapidly back and forth, as if she was dreaming. Her breathing became uneven as she struggled to keep her focus on both her mind and her body.

A warm glow of pride filled him to near bursting. She was still and steady, looking a little confused, but otherwise perfectly normal. He kissed her, because he couldn't help 155

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himself. She responded, hesitantly at first, but a moment later her small fingers slid into his hair, her nails gently raking over his scalp. Tristan shuddered, feeling himself change as he focused on her.

How had he gone so long without this? Her taste was addicting. He could kiss her forever. Already he scented the sweet honeydew of her arousal and it maddened him. Tristan wanted to feel the heat of her skin next to his, to feel her tremble when he touched her. Just like every other time he'd had his hands on her, the strength of his reaction to her threw him off-kilter, made him clumsy. He wanted to tear her clothes off to be rid of them, but realized that in this state, he could hurt her doing it.

And Tristan didn't want that. Never that. He'd used his hands to hurt and kill before. With Dara, he only wanted them to bring her pleasure. Never pain. Though it took all the willpower he possessed, Tristan gentled himself, reminding himself that this was a test.

What a perfect way to test her, he decided. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, committing everything to memory, saving it for later, when he might not have her soft and warm in his arms. She wavered slightly in his mind once more when he laid her down on her bunk, and then held steady, meeting him physically touch for touch.

It was a game now, to see how much outer stimuli she could handle before she faltered in her task. Tristan was not about to make it easy on her. He set to her clothes, kissing and nipping every new inch of skin he revealed. Her shirt came away easily and he nuzzled her stomach, taut with 156

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tension until she relaxed. When he divested Dara of her pants, her breath became shallow. Tristan took his time caressing the length of her legs. She had a pair of them just long enough to hook and lock around him. He couldn't wait for her to do that again.

When he got to her underwear, like a feline with a new plaything, he nuzzled her breasts, nipped at her through her bra, then traced the outlines with his tongue, feeling her heartbeat quicken against it. He held her close, soaking up the feel of her hands roaming over his back and her legs squeezing around him.

"I ... can't..." she breathed, her brows drawing together again. She was losing it, becoming restless in his mind.

Tristan could feel how much of an effort she put into this, fighting herself for control. It was no more than he'd done every day since she'd arrived. Dara
needed
. So much, it made her ache. How long would she be able to deny herself?

How long would he let her?

The beast in him craved her pleasure, even more than its own. It drove him to obey her body's commands. She spoke them so clearly, telling him where she needed to be touched, how she wanted him to kiss her. Tristan was so attuned to her now, he didn't need telepathy. But he made use of it to intensify every touch; to make her crave him so much she couldn't breathe without him.

Still a test,
he reminded himself. To Dara he said, "Focus,"

then thought of something that made him grin wickedly. "And if you want to play, play through me."

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Curious to see if she would do it, hungry for her to do it, Tristan nipped her earlobe, then strung openmouthed kisses down her throat. Dara moaned, but bit her lip to keep quiet.

She arched to his mouth, arms looping around his head to bring him back when he pulled away to look at her. His hand caressed her back down her spine, making her arch more, then returned back up her front to cup her breast.
Good idea,
he thought, and proceeded to massage the soft mound, rubbing his face over the other at the same time.

He sought her nipple and suckled her hard, grazing it with his teeth just enough to make her shiver.

Another small lapse of concentration and he found her in a part of his mind he hadn't expected. For no more than a second, he stilled to realize she'd directed him without his knowledge. Part of him thrilled to be managed like that. And another part of him was eager to show her who was in charge here.

Dara had only seconds to realize she'd been found out, come to terms with it, and regain her focus before Tristan's hand slipped into her panties. Her hips bucked up into his touch and she bit back a moan, trying to hold her place in his mind. It was making her crazed, having to keep focused when all she wanted to do was let go and touch him and be touched. She was managing to do two things halfway, when she wanted so much to do just one thing wholeheartedly.