“But I would lose the joy of . . . hearing your signal,” she said slowly. “And it is a joy, new as it is to me. I propose a method of slow study.” She stepped forward, one hand reaching for his.
He sidestepped, slipping away from her grasp like smoke.
“Be wary! Here is good reason for fear.”
“I am not afraid of you!” she cried, her anger sparking truth from him, like flame from a firestone.
“Aelliana, sometimes I am afraid of me!”
She paused, and he thought that sense had at last won through. Then she shook her head, Terran-wise, and smiled.
“That's as may be, van'chela. I beg, however, that you will do me the honor of allowing me to love you, fearsome as you are. Please, let us at least try my method. If you see that I am overruled and lost, then you must disengage, as you did last evening. I depend upon you for this, for you will be able to see when I cannot. Is that a bargain?”
He licked his lips, scarcely able to look at her. His love, his lifemate. His pilot.
“What do you propose?” he whispered.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to his reading chair, over near the window. “My neck is quite cricked from staring up at you.”
“Very well.” He did as he was bid and looked up at her, with eyebrow raised.
“Good,” Aelliana said. “Now, what I propose is very simple. I will touch you, and take time to listen to your signal, so that I may learn to differentiate. Once I am able to know your signal as distinct from my own, then I believe the level of risk for both of us decreases by a factor of six.”
It was the sort of calculation that Aelliana might very well do, he thought. More than that, she might have a point. Certainly last evening they had taken no leisurely course to pleasure, but had tumbled helter-skelter into passion, each half-blinded with need. Well they might try this more modest approach, and he would do what he might to make the course less dangerous yet.
He took a breath, preparatory to activating the Rainbow.
“You will please not use any of the skills you have to calm or distance yourself from me,” Aelliana said.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”
“It will dull the signal,” she said reasonably, and raised her hand.
* * *
Daav's cheek was soft beneath her fingers, the flutter of his pleasure as apparent to her as the scowl on his face. Aelliana paused, concentrating on these new perceptions the Healers had given her.
Regarded in calmness, Daav's input was nothing at all like the emotions she felt for herself; she could differentiate quite easily. She ran her fingers lightly down the side of his face, across his lips, noting the growing warmth—his and hers, distinct. It was rather like simultaneously listening to chatter off the wideband and instructions from the Tower. At first, it seemed nothing other than a dreadful mixup of sound, but the ear very quickly learned to sort and make sense of each stream.
“Aelliana . . . ” His lips moved beneath her fingertips; she felt herself warm agreeably, even as she received a flutter of trepidation from him.
“Hush,” she murmured, and reached to stroke those strong eyebrows before placing both hands, gently, on his shoulders.
He was in tumult now: fear, longing, and a tangled skein of emotion she was too inexperienced to name. What a complex creature he was! Complex and utterly fascinating. Her blood was beginning to heat, slow and inescapable, echoing Daav's longing, yet distinct and very different.
It was therefore her own choice that she moved forward, put her knees on the chair at either side of him, and sat astride his lap.
“Kiss me,” she said, raising her face to his.
“Aelliana, I don't—”
She snatched his long tail of dark hair and pulled it, hard.
“Kiss me!”
He shivered and she felt his fear strongly, almost as if it were her own.
Then she felt his resolve, his concurrence, his desire, and his lips, warm and knowing on hers.
* * *
She was pliant against him, her mouth not so cunning as yestereve, but taking her lessons to heart. Daav went carefully, fear at first mixing with desire, slowly dissolving into passion.
Somewhere in the world beyond she and he, there was a sound.
The door had opened.
Daav lifted his head, felt Aelliana sigh and nestle her cheek against his chest.
Er Thom lounged in the doorway, arms crossed, a book tucked under one elbow.
“Pilots,” he said neutrally, inclining his bright head. “I am going home, to my lady and to my dinner. Pray, do not disturb yourselves on my account! I'm certain that Mr. pel'Kana can find me a car.” He straightened and lifted the book. “Brother, I will return tel'Jorinson's Treatise on Trade tomorrow. Pilot Caylon, I took the liberty of having your things brought down from Trealla Fantrol and reinstated in your quarters here. A fair evening to you both.”
