Lewis held Carlie close, closer than was probably comfortable, but she didn't seem to mind. He felt her body shake with her sobs, and wanted to grab her attacker and methodically tear him limb from limb. The only thing that kept him from it was Carlie need for him. The area reeked of human fear-scent and vomit, and he wanted to get her away from that. He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the stairs, sitting down with her still in his arms. She curled herself into a ball on his lap, still weeping, but less painfully now. He found himself rocking her a little, as he did when holding one of his children and trying to calm them.

It hit him then. The children. Lewis reached out instantly, and found them, frightened, but calming now that they could sense his presence, and feel that the threat had eased. He relaxed slightly, wanting to go to them, but knowing that he couldn't, not just yet. He sent a reassuring thought their way, and returned his focus to the debacle at hand.

How had this happened? Why had Carlie sent Paul and Daniel away, and even more importantly, why had they gone? They knew better. It was a blatant breach of discipline to allow anyone else to countermand his orders. It shouldn't have happened. None of this should have. He should have been here to prevent it. He knew how Carlie felt about killing, she should not have had to find out first hand what it was like. His life-giver shouldn't have had to become a life-taker. He looked up as Tom returned to the main room with the other thug in hand, dropping him to the floor next to the moaning, semi-conscious blond. Tom caught Sloan's eye and pointed at the two men.

"Sloan, watch them, I'll go get the lights back on." He looked at Lewis "I assume the fuse-box is in back?"

Lewis nodded as Sloan aimed the gun Lewis had given her in the general direction of the attackers. Lewis winced. Thankfully Carlie's assailants were no shape to realize how inept Sloan was. He would have to make sure Tom trained her in the proper use of firearms before she shot herself, or someone else, by accident. If Tom insisted on having a human mate, he could at least make sure she wasn't a menace.

Suddenly new presences bloomed in Lewis' mind. He stiffened, on alert, then relaxed as he realized it was the sherriff's officers that apparently both he, and Carlie, had called. If he'd realized that he would be able to arrive before them, he wouldn't have. It would have been easier to clean up this mess without that kind of interference. Still, Tom had been right. Better human protection than none at all. He plotted darkly what he'd do to Paul and Daniel for deserting their post.

A vehicle rolled up to the house with lights flashing and siren screaming. Its headlights and a side-mounted spotlight shone through the tall windows and open front door, bathing the foyer in light. Tom stopped, looking at Lewis as two uniformed figures got out of the Blazer, guns drawn. Lewis glanced at Sloan, and the weapon she held.

"Why don't you put that down by me?" he suggested, as much for her own safety as anything. She looked relieved and hurriedly placed it on the stair next to him.

"Good, now, go out and let them know we've got things in hand."

Sloan frowned. "Me?"

"You. You're female, and unarmed. They won't see you as a potential threat. Go."

Sloan sighed, but she went, moving slowly toward the door with her hands out so they could clearly see she held nothing dangerous. "Hello?" She called out tentatively.

Lewis rolled his eyes, but he felt the cops relax slightly as Sloan stepped out onto the porch and walked toward them.

"Are you the person who reported a possible break-in?" a woman asked.

Lewis recognized the voice. He'd made a point of ingratiating himself with the local law enforcement officials, just in case. Sheriff Bedford had been quite pleased that a newcomer to the area would donate so generously to their New Vehicle Fund. He had been intrigued to find that the local sheriff was a woman in her mid-forties. A tall, curvaceous, dark-haired woman with several tattoos. After watching her work her for a few months, he'd realized that she was incredibly competent, which apparently outweighed her gender and appearance in the minds of local voters.

"No," Sloan said. "That was my friend, Carlie, she lives here, I'm just visiting. I mean, she was here by herself, we just got here." Sloan sounded even less coherent than normal, but then, she had reason to be. It was a confusing situation, and she was upset, and coming down off an adrenalin rush.

The sheriff nodded, and put a calming hand on her arm. "Yes, ma'am, why don't you give a statement to Deputy Alves here and I'll come in and see what needs doing. Our dispatcher recorded and relayed most of what happened over the phone. The ambulance should be here any time now. We'll take over from here."

As the sheriff spoke outside with Sloan, Tom looked at Lewis.

"I'll go ahead and get the power back on now."

Lewis nodded. "The fuse box is outside, just to the right of the kitchen door. There's a flashlight you can use on a charger next to the refrigerator. Don't mess up their prints."

Tom shot him a disgusted look which made Lewis realize just how shaken he was. Of course Tom would know better than to do anything like that. He'd known better at the age of eleven. Tom headed toward the kitchen as the sheriff entered the house. The woman looked around the foyer, shaking her head.

"What a damned mess. I'm sorry about this, folks. We got here as quick as we could, but you do live a ways out."

Lewis nodded, trying to look understanding, trying not to grit his teeth. "I know that, Sheriff Bedford. It's just fortunate that I arrived home from my trip when I did."

The woman nodded. "Yes, it is." She sighed, and stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Pryce, but I have to ask this. Were you raped?"

In his arms Carlie stiffened, and shivered, then lifted her head, and wiped her eyes "No. I wasn't." Lewis sensed the truth of her answer with a flood of relief. He'd been wondering that, thinking he would know, but not quite sure. It had been like a knife in his gut.

The sheriff looked at Carlie for a long moment, then nodded acceptance. "Do you need to see a doctor?" The woman asked gently. "There's an ambulance coming."

Fear flashed through Carlie, and Lewis stroked her hair to calm her, though he understood why she was afraid. A doctor might find out about her physical differences, and realize she wasn't human. She shook her head again.

After a second she shivered, then lifted her head, and wiped her eyes "No. I wasn't."

The sheriff looked at her for a long moment, then nodded acceptance. "Do you need to see a doctor?" The woman asked gently. "There's an ambulance coming."

Fear flashed through Carlie, and Lewis stroked her hair to calm her, though he understood why she was afraid. A doctor might find out about her physical differences, and realize she wasn't human. She shook her head again.

"No, I'm fine. Just a little shook up, a few bruises." She touched the corner of her mouth, wiping away the trace of blood there. "Nothing serious."

"If you change your mind, let me know. If you feel up to it, we'd like to take some pictures of the bruises for evidence."

"Do we have to do that right now?" Lewis snapped irritably.

Bedford shrugged. "No, we can do it tomorrow. Actually that would be more effective, since the bruising will be even more obvious then."

Knowing Bedford was right made his temper flare anew. Carlie's arms tightened around him and she made a tiny, negative sound. He realized that she was trying to protect him from the consequences of his own rage, and nuzzled her hair softly, letting her know he wasn't about to go kill her assailant in front of the humans.

The sheriff moved to stand over the slouched figure of the chief thug. Lewis sensed recognition from her, which she confirmed a moment later, scowling. "Eric Hartmann. I figured he'd end up in jail one of these days, but never could catch him at anything before." She eyed him for a moment, and then looked over at Lewis with a gleam of humor in her eyes. "Think your wife would like to come to work for us? Looks like she's got a future in law enforcement."

Lewis was surprised by the irreverent comment, but Carlie gave a semi-hysterical snort of laughter. Bedford smiled a little, and Lewis realized that she'd done it deliberately, to help Carlie gain a little distance. Interesting technique. No wonder the locals liked her. The lights came on suddenly, startling Bedford.

"What the . . .?" she said, looking around.

"I asked my brother to go out back and reset the fuse box," Lewis explained. At her look of dismay, he continued. "Carefully, of course, so as not to disturb any fingerprints. He and his friend, Dr. Parker, arrived with me. We drove up from Northern California today."

The woman nodded. "Thanks. Gotta keep things straight." She paused a moment to pull out a notebook and scribble a few lines, then knelt to examine the body of the male Carlie had killed. Finishing there, she turned to the other two. The blond was pale and sweating, barely conscious. Lewis was fairly certain he'd broken several of the man's ribs, and probably ruptured his spleen. To his trained gaze it was clear he was bleeding internally, and Lewis hoped he didn't make it until the ambulance came. That would be one less of them to have to deal with later. She frowned, and looked at Lewis and Carlie.

"Mrs. Pryce did you do this?"

Carlie shot a quelling glance at Lewis when he opened his mouth to take the blame, and lifted her chin proudly. "I've had martial arts training. When he attacked me, I defended myself."

Lewis noted with a bit of amusement that Carlie had phrased her answer in such a way as to make the sheriff believe she was responsible for the man's injuries without actually lying. She was learning. Bedford nodded and jotted more notes, and turned to glance at the other man who sat, trying to make himself smaller and inconspicuous. After a moment she unhooked a set of cuffs from her belt and snapped them onto the .

"Hey, Phil, come get this guy outta here, would ya?" she yelled, then turned back toward Lewis, and Carlie. "I'm afraid I do need to get a statement from Mrs. Pryce tonight," she said apologetically. "It's important, or I wouldn't insist. Can we go in the kitchen? I think we'll be more comfortable there, without all . . . " she paused, looked at the corpse, the two immoblie thugs, and the pool of vomit, then made a face and finished, " . . . this."

Carlie nodded, and Lewis stood up to take her into the kitchen. She pushed against his chest and shook her head.

"Put me down, Llyn. Please?"

He studied her, felt that it was important to her, and nodded, sliding her down so her feet were on the ground. She stood for a moment, leaning against him, then straightened, looking up at him, her hands resting against his chest. "The babies need someone, Llyn. They're scared. Since I can't go to them yet, you should."

Lewis frowned. "Sloan can go sit with them, I should stay with you."

"No, they need me, or you, not a relative stranger. I'll be all right. I'm sure Sloan will hold my hand if I need it, but I know I won't be able to think straight if I'm worrying about them. Please? They've missed you so much."

She was right. Once she'd pointed it out, and taken his focus from herself, Lewis could feel that Arian, Sorcha and Luke were still upset, and getting more so as they waited, alone, yet sensing the turmoil of the emotional atmosphere. He nodded. "I'll go."

Carlie sighed, relieved, and stepped back. Her torn dress gaped at the shoulder, and she held it closed, looking distressed. Sloan, who had come inside with the deputy, quickly slipped off her jacket and handed it to Carlie, who put it on and buttoned it with shaking fingers. Lewis could feel that Carlie's control was a thin veneer over her emotions. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her again, but knew she wouldn't allow it now. Later she would need it, but now she had to rely on her own strength, and both of them were aware of that. She looked over at Sloan, and nodded toward the kitchen

"Sloan, would you come sit with me while I talk to Sheriff Bedford?

Sloan nodded, looking as if she were about to cry. "Of course, anything"

Lewis sensed that Sloan really did mean anything. That might change if she were asked to do something that threatened what she held dear, but it was interesting that she would be so generous. He began to understand, a little, what Tom saw in the woman. That kind of loyalty was rare. As Carlie walked to the kitchen with quiet determination, he felt a stir of illogical pride. Though he knew her strength was not his doing, the fact that she was his mate somehow made it seem so. A silent, agitated call from upstairs told him he'd waited a moment too long. Without Carlie, he'd need help handling all three of them. He looked around and saw Tom not doing anything.

"Tom, you're with me," Lewis ordered, then turned and took the stairs two at a time. Tom was right behind him.

Opening the door to the nursery, he went to the first crib, looking down in confusion as he realized the bed was empty. Thinking that perhaps Carlie had put all three babies down together since they did like to sleep that way sometimes, he checked the other two beds. Empty as well. Lewis experienced a momentary flash of what someone else might have termed panic, except that he never panicked. He had sensed them. They were here, and safe. He looked at Tom.

"Carlie must have hidden them when she sensed danger."

Tom nodded, frowning. "It feels like they're here."

Lewis echoed his frown. It did feel that way, but it obviously couldn't be. He tried to think of where Carlie might have put them. Probably not in the nursery, that would have been too obvious a place for the intruders to search. He'd started for the door to check the bedrooms when a sound stopped him, a tiny, muffled whimper. Turning, he looked around more carefully. That had been Arian, he knew it. He looked at Tom.

"Did you hear that?"

Tom nodded, and Lewis closed his eyes, concentrating, and could feel them all, their fear, and their need for comfort. The sensation was too immediate to be coming from anywhere else. They were clearly somewhere in the room.

"Arian? Luke? Sorcha? Tell me where you are." Though he knew they couldn't really understand his words, they would understand the concepts the words conjured in his mind. "I'm here. It's safe now. You're safe, your mother is safe. Tom is a friend." He backed each word with an emotional image.

The whimper became a full-fledged bawl. His gaze snapped to Arian's crib, and he stared, stunned, at the crying baby who sat in the crib he'd sworn was empty. Luke and Sorcha took up a descant, each from their respective beds. For a moment he could only stand there, trying to understand how he could possibly have missed seeing them, but their upset quickly drove him from that state. He picked up the closest baby, Sorcha and held her out to Tom.

"Take her," he ordered.

Tom complied, awkwardly, wincing a little from the noise level before finally managing to settle her comfortably into the curve of his arm. Sorcha quieted then, staring at Tom with a faintly puzzled frown, as if she were trying to remember where she'd seen him before. It had been several months since Tom had last seen them, but he wasn't truly a stranger.

Lewis picked up Arian and Luke, and sat down on the floor with them, soothing them until they quieted as well. Luke was trembling slightly, his breathing rapid, though slowing. His symptoms were clearly those of physical, as well as emotional stress. That bothered Lewis. Luke was physically the strongest of the three, what could cause him to react this way? It was as if he'd been exerting himself somehow.

"Lewis, I don't understand," Tom said in a low voice. "Why didn't we see them?"

The question brought Lewis up out of his worry. "You need to call me Llyn here," he corrected automatically. "That's how these people know me. Llewellyn Pryce. You're my brother, Tom."

Tom nodded, and Lewis caught a small flash of pleasure from him. He briefly wondered why, then Tom's question took precedence. He shook his head, looking around the room. "I don't know how we missed them. Frankly I don't understand it either. Had it just been me, I might have put it down to emotional stress, but you experienced it too so it was clearly more than that."

"Do you suppose it was something Carlie did?"

Lewis shook his head. "I don't think so, but I can't say for certain. Her empathic abilities are some of the strongest I've found. Our kind are still evolving, I suppose it's possible Carlie could have some mutation, like mine for forced rapport, that allows her to create an illusion. Perhaps the stress of tonight and her worry for the children allowed her to access that ability for the first time."

Tom thought about that, and finally shrugged. "I suppose. It was very strange, whatever it was. I'm not used to being fooled like that."

Lewis looked back at him with lifted eyebrows, and Tom smiled.

"Yeah, I know. You either. I could tell. You know, that's twice today I felt something from you that I never thought I would."

Even though he knew he was being led, Lewis couldn't resist, he was too curious. "Which was?"

"Fear."

Lewis glared at him. "I wasn't afraid."

Tom's smile broadened. "Of course not. Just like you weren't afraid when Carlie paged you and you realized the land-line was dead and she didn't answer the cellular. And you drove here at about sixty miles an hour over the speed limit because you just wanted to get home sooner."

"I wasn't afraid. I was angry," Lewis said decisively.

"Ah. My mistake," Tom said, a faint smile curving his mouth as he sat down across from Lewis and shifted Sorcha so he could look at her face better. "She's changed."

Lewis chuckled, remembering a similar comment he'd made to Carlie once. "They do that. Very rapidly, too."

Tom nodded thoughtfully and tried to resettle Sorcha, who squirmed in his arms restlessly. He looked back at Lewis. "What does she want?"

Lewis 'listened' to her for a moment, then looked at Tom and understood. "You're holding her wrong. Put her against your chest, Carlie says the sound of an adult's heart is very soothing to small children, because of their time in the womb. Let her put her head on your shoulder, she may drool a little but it washes out."

Tom chuckled. "Now that's a comment I would love to have on tape," he said, shifting Sorcha as Lewis instructed.

She settled down and Lewis felt her mind quieting as she started to head toward sleep. Arian was in the same state, but Luke was awake, though unusually clingy and quiet. Of the three of them, he seemed the most affected by the night's events. Lewis shifted him closer to his heart and Luke gave a tiny sigh and closed his eyes, relaxing finally. He would sleep soon, that was clear.

"Do they always recover so quickly?"

Lewis looked up to see Tom's eyes on Luke and Arian. He nodded. "Yes, usually. Children are amazingly resilient. Once their immediate need is assuaged, they recover almost instantly."

Tom nodded, an almost wistful expression on his face.

"What?" Lewis asked quietly.

Tom looked away and shook his head. "Nothing."

Lewis took a moment to analyze the progression of emotions he'd felt from the other man, and he figured it out. He smiled. "You can, you know."

Tom frowned. "I can what?"

"Be a father. Even should you choose to reproduce with Sloan, your children would be Dominants. You know that."

Tom tensed, and shook his head. "No, I couldn't do that to Sloan."

Lewis chuckled, and deliberately misinterpreted the younger man's comment. "Certainly you could. In fact, you already may have, since from her scent, I would say that she was already in the right point in her cycle last night."

Tom glared at him, then his eyes widened and his face paled. Lewis sensed a sudden flood of apprehension. The babies all fretted in response, and Tom hastily calmed himself.

"I take it you hadn't noticed," Lewis said drily.

Tom shook his head, and Lewis clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Careless of you. I'm surprised."

Tom looked stricken. "It must have been the drugs, I wasn't back to normal. I couldn't tell. She'll kill me."

"Doubtful, after the effort she went to in order to get you back. However, I suggest you discuss the possibility and your options at this point, if you believe she would be averse. And it's always possible there is nothing to . . . be concerned about. Human females are generally less fertile than our own. Once is rarely enough to assure impregnation."

Tom sighed and Lewis felt a little sorry for him. He'd never had to deal with this part of things, not really. He suddenly remembered Carlie staring at him in shock as she realized that what he'd done had been more than just casual sex for pleasure's sake, that it had, in fact, been the mating she had unconsciously demanded from him. He'd been a different person then. It hadn't mattered to him that she might be upset. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him that it should matter. She'd asked and he'd given even though he'd known that she didn't really understand what she was asking. He would have to make that up to her.

Tom suddenly looked down at Sorcha and wrinkled his nose. "Ah, I think maybe Sorcha might need you now."

Lewis smiled. "Get used to it. Come on, I'll show you how."

He maneuvered himself to his feet, not an easy task holding two sleeping babies. He settled Luke and Arian together in one crib, knowing they needed that closeness at the moment, and then turned to take Sorcha from Tom, placing her on the changing table. She lay still and quiet, not fussing as she waited patiently, knowing what came next. Though she was sleepy, as her eyelids drooped, they immediately flew back open and a hint of annoyance colored her emotions. He smiled, knowing that annoyance was with herself for being sleepy, afraid of missing something important if she gave in to her body's need for rest.

Strangely, that was the one thing he could clearly remember from his life before he'd been given to Adam. He'd been just like that, always afraid of missing something. Of course, Sorcha was in many ways the most like him of his children. It would be interesting to see what she became, in part because it would show him what he might have been had he been left to develop on his own instead of being molded into what Adam and Marga had wanted him to be.

"Tom, if you would, open that container there," he said, nodding toward the baby-wipes, keeping his voice low and soothing as he gently tugged his daughter's star-patterned nightgown up to expose her diaper.

Tom complied, opening the canister, then stepping back as far as could get from the table without making it clear he wanted to be elsewhere. Lewis chuckled and reached under the table to get out a fresh diaper, placing it within easy reach on the table. He looked up at Tom, and nodded toward the table.

"Observe. You open these tabs . . ."

He continued his demonstration, proceeding through disposal of the old diaper, clean-up, and application of the new diaper. Tom watched with an expression that was a mixture of awe and disgust. Lewis didn't bother to conceal his amusement with his protégé's dismay as he finished the task. Finally he picked Sorcha up and just held her. Sorcha fought sleep still, pulling back to look at him, somehow managing to convey both her displeasure at his absence, and her pleasure at his return.

Satisfied that he was actually here, she snuggled against his shoulder with a little sigh. He felt an ache that made his eyes sting, but it was a good kind of pain. Ignoring Tom's quizzical expression, Lewis held Sorcha for a few moments more, longer than really necessary to assure himself she was really asleep before placing her gently beside her sleeping siblings. She fidgeted a little, but quieted at the touch of his hand on her back and his emotions in her mind. Lewis gestured for Tom to follow him and they quietly left the room.

Carlie had begun to think they would never leave, but Sheriff Bedford had finally gathered her deputy, her coroner, and her lab guy, and gone. Thankfully they had carted off her assailants fairly early in the process, getting them out of the house where she didn't have to feel their presence. She wasn't sure how much longer she could have held out. Only the steady, reassuring feel of Lewis in her mind had kept her from totally breaking down.

As she watched the last official vehicle pull away from the house, she turned to him and silently put her arms around him, trying to absorb his strength into herself. He held her, his face against her hair, letting her. Somewhere distantly she heard Tom's voice.

"So, where's your backup safehouse? We should probably get going."

She turned, puzzled. "What?"

Lewis sighed. "Tom's right. We should leave."

Carlie pulled away from Lewis slightly, looking up into his face. "Leave? Why?"

"With the police involved, there will have to be a trial unless they plead guilty, and there's no guarantee of that."

He didn't have to explain further. She bit her lip. She had spent the first few months here thinking they would have to pack and run again, so she hadn't put down roots. Now she had just finally started to settle in, to feel comfortable, to get to know a few people. She didn't want to leave. But she knew that Lewis wouldn't want the scrutiny that would be involved in a legal action. A trial meant an investigation which could eventually lead to exposure of their false identities. It also meant publicity, perhaps newspaper photos from which someone could recognize him. She didn't want to leave, but she understood the necessity.

"I have several alternate locations but none are particularly close," Lewis said. "We'll have to spend quite some time on the road."

From his tone of voice, Lewis liked that idea about at much as she did. Carlie sighed. "I understand. I'll get some things together."

Sloan looked from her to Lewis, and back, frowning. "If you disappear tonight, they'll find that suspicious. I know I would. The sheriff would probably start investigating you immediately. Why don't you just stay here tonight, and leave tomorrow, or even the next day? I think it would draw less attention than if you cut and run immediately. If you take a little time, it will seem more normal."

Sloan paused, and when no one contradicted her immediately, she went on. "Sheriff Bedford told me it's common for women who've been attacked to feel uncomfortable in the place where it happened. Carlie can tell her she needs some time away from here. Bedford will buy that, then you can just decide not to return. It'll seem completely natural. That way you'll have plenty of time to get established somewhere else before anyone here realizes you aren't coming back. Even if they can't find you, it'll be a while before they really start to question what happened."

Lewis looked at Tom, and Carlie sensed surprise from her own mate, and a sort of smug amusement from Sloan's. After a moment, Lewis spoke.

"Excellent points, Sloan. You're right."

It was Sloan's turn to be surprised. "I am?" she said, then looked disgusted. "Of course I am. See? A few days with you and I'm doubting myself. Carlie must be made of steel to put up with you."

Lewis looked at Carlie and touched her cheek softly. "Not steel. Willow. Strong, but supple."

The analogy was tender, but Carlie thought about how far she'd had to bend that night in order to try to protect her babies, and felt tears starting again. Lewis' smile evaporated as he sensed her imminent collapse. He shot a glance at Tom, then glanced at the stairs, toward the babies' room. Tom nodded and Lewis leaned down and picked Carlie up, turning to carry her upstairs with an ease that made her feel safe finally, protected. For some reason that made her cry harder. Lewis carried her into their bedroom, pushed the door closed with his foot, and lowered her to the bed, holding her gently as she cried herself into a hiccoughing, sniffling mess.

When she finally subsided he carefully drew away a little. Carlie thought he was going to leave her and she grabbed him, holding him fiercely. He stroked her hair, mentally and physically reassuring her that he wasn't leaving until she relaxed a little and let go. He put his lips against her ear.

"Can I go into the bathroom and get a cool cloth for your face?"

She thought about it, and finally nodded. It would feel good, and he wouldn't be far away. He eased away from her and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, obviously waiting to see if she would panic again. When she didn't, he stood up and went into the bathroom. She heard him running water at the sink and felt a sudden surge of revulsion. She'd killed someone. The thought horrified her. Like Lady MacBeth, she knew her bloody hands would never come clean, even though she knew he'd earned his death.

Nausea swamped her, and she rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time. Lewis knelt and stroked her hair back, holding it out of the way, and reassuring her that she'd done the right thing. Once she had finished he used the wet washrag to clean her face, and gave her a glass of water. She rinsed her mouth and spat, then drank, letting the cold, clean water chase the bile from her mouth. She swallowed, feeling the chill of the water all the way down her throat to her stomach. She shivered, and that shiver was followed by another, and another, until she was shuddering nearly continuously, feeling cold to her core. She realized disjointedly that she must be in shock.

Apparently Lewis did as well. He gently lifted her, seating her on the counter, then he turned and started the shower, adjusting the temperature and flow before turning back to her. She sat, unmoving as he unbuttoned her borrowed jacket, slid it off her, and hung it on a hook behind the door. That accomplished, he unbuttoned her dress, and removed that as well, dropping it in the trash. He studied her, his jaw tightening as he looked at the bruises on her arms, stomach and face. She sensed raw anger and disgust surging in him, and whimpered, trying to free her hands. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them, then drew her to her feet and held her against him.

"Don't. It wasn't your fault."

She pulled away, standing with her back to him, hugging herself. "It was! I told Paul and Daniel to go. I left the windows open! I wanted things to be normal for you when you got home, not like an armed camp. It was my fault, Lewis, I should have known better!"

"How could you have known?" he asked, denial in his voice. "You're my refuge, it's not in you to know how hard the world is."

"I know now," she said simply, and the sudden guilt her words engendered in him was like a knife in both of them. She cried out, wrapping her arms around him. "No, Lewis, don't. Don't feel guilty. You did what you could to keep me safe, if I had listened, I would have been safe."

"I shouldn't have left you," he breathed, "I should never have left."

She shook her head. "You had to. I knew that. You came back, that's what's important." She knew she was crying again, knew it would upset him, but she couldn't help it. Her life had just changed irrevocably. She would never again have the blissful ignorance of not knowing what it was like to kill another sentient being.

Lewis laughed, a little desperately. "I'm supposed to be comforting you, not you, me."

She turned back to him, and wrapped her arms around him, feeling the strength of his body against hers, the strength she'd come to rely on as her own. "We comfort each other. That's what love is."

Lewis' arms tightened around her and she felt his throat move as if he spoke, but no words came. She felt his response though. He might not be able to say it, but he could feel it. Feeling it was more important. He held her for long moments, then held her away a little so he could see her face. "Are you feeling better? Shall I turn off the shower?"

Carlie shook her head, still feeling cold to her core with the intimate knowledge of death.

"No." She slipped off the counter and moved toward the shower, only then realizing she was shaking so badly she could barely walk. "I need help," she admitted, low-voiced, feeling embarrassed by her own weakness.

Without hesitation he stripped so he could join her. She automatically scanned him for new scars or injuries, and felt a rush of comfort at not finding any. At least one thing had gone right. She clung to that as he lifted her into the shower, then stepped in himself. When she reached for the soap he took it from her and with infinite gentleness began to bathe her, knowing she needed that gentleness after the violence she'd experienced. He started with her feet, worked upward until he reached her hips, then he paused for a moment.

Next thing she knew his hands were in her hair, working shampoo into the thick mass, then they moved forward, smoothing lather over her forehead, her cheekbones, down her throat, even behind her ears. She closed her eyes and mouth and felt him wash those as well, then he turned her toward the water and rinsed the shampoo from her face and hair. At least in the water he couldn't see she was crying again. A moment later he was working conditioner through her hair, using his fingers to comb out the tangles, then guiding her under the spray to rinse again.

That done he took up the soap again and started with her shoulders and back, massaging as much as washing. Her head fell back against his shoulder where he stood behind her, and she sighed as he worked the tension from her under the warm spill of the shower, his strong hands slick with soap. He slid them around her waist, and his touch grew lighter as he carefully washed her bruised stomach, then her breasts. Her body reacted to the contact, her nipples hardening, a streamer of warmth unfurling in her belly.

Though Lewis must have felt her response, he held himself away from her, and when there was only one part of her that he hadn't washed, he stopped. She waited, expecting him to continue, but then his emotions reached her. Surprised, she turned and saw that same uncertainty echoed in his eyes. She realized suddenly that he was concerned that his touch might be unwelcome after what had happened, that she was too traumatized to want him.

Carlie turned to face him fully, and slowly reached out and found his hand, drawing it to her, sliding it down between her thighs. The hesitation vanished from his eyes, replaced by a tenderness that stole her breath. He leaned forward and kissed her softly as his soapy fingers slid and searched. His tongue banished the taste of her own blood and fear from her mouth, replacing it with familiar desire. She moved forward, pressing against him, and his hand shifted from between them, leaving her aching. She protested, and he put his arms around her, one holding her lightly, the other slipping down her back, his hand curving over the round of her buttocks, soapy fingers sliding between her legs once more.

She ached with pleasure, her knees weak again, but this time not from remembered fear and . When she clung to him he understood her need, and he shifted her under the water again, letting it take the soap from her body, using his hand to sluice the cleansing warmth of it between her thighs. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch until he finally drew back and shut off the water.

Taking a towel he dried her as gently as he'd bathed her, then lifted her out of the tub and carried her out to their bed. Laying her across it he settled beside her, and reached out to trace the line of her lips with his finger, a question in his eyes. Again he was hesitating. She understood, he wanted to be sure she was ready for him to touch her without the slim excuse of washing her.

The desire and love she felt for him at that moment was so powerful it almost hurt. That he would be so caring and compassionate with her when she knew he had never been taught that, was the most extraordinary gift she could imagine. She caught his hand in hers and kissed his fingers, then pulled his hand against her cheek, answering his unspoken question.

His thumb caught a tear and wiped it away, but it was quickly chased by another. He drew back, concerned. "It's too soon. We should wait."

She shook her head vehemently, and grabbed his shoulders to keep him from moving. Not trusting her voice, she lifted her mouth to his, kissing him almost desperately, ignoring the pain in her lip where Eric's hand had split it against her teeth. Lewis pulled back without responding, searching her eyes, worried now.

"Carlie, no. Not like this."

She couldn't help but wonder if he was angry with her for disobeying him, if that was why he hadn't responded to her, why he resisted, when he'd never refused her before. He had every right to be angry. Her carelessness had put their children at risk. Ashamed, she scrambled away from his warmth, ending up against the headboard in a half-crouch, feeling the tears come faster, hotter. He was with her immediately, fitting himself protectively against her back. He nuzzled her damp hair away from her ear and kissed the sensitive hollow beneath it.

"No shame, Carlie. None. You did nothing wrong."

She tried to protest. "I did! I left . . ."

He put his fingers against her lips, gently. "No. Nothing. We won't speak of that again." His tone clearly brooked no denial. She smiled through her tears. It was so very Lewis of him to think he could order such a thing. But strangely, the feeling of shame had left her, as if indeed, he had succeeded.

"I thought you were mad at me," she whispered, trying to explain, needing him to deny it.

Lewis' immediate, incredulous emotional response reassured her before he even spoke, but his words helped even more. "No, that's not it at all. I want you, I just can't take pleasure in hurting you. I'm here if you need me, however you need me, but I refuse to hurt you like they did."

Carlie teared up again. She couldn't seem to stop it. Lewis touched her face and she felt his dismay, his worry, all mixed up with his desire for her. He turned her to face him, pulling her into his lap, stroking her hair, her back, kissing her cheek, her eyelids, the corner of her mouth. She turned her head to catch his mouth with her own and for a delicious instant he responded, his tongue stroking hers, but when he deepened the kiss couldn't suppress a wince and he drew back instantly. She grabbed him and pulled him back to her.

"I need this, Lewis. I need you! I need life." Her voice sounded choked even to her own ears, and to reinforce her words she tried to project her need to him. He closed his eyes with a gasp and she felt the surge of his arousal in her mind, and in the way he hardened under her thighs. He shuddered faintly, and opened his eyes again, a hint of amusement in them along with the fire of his desire.

"Better tone that down a bit if you want me to last long enough to be useful."

She laughed, biting her lip. "Sorry."

He shook his head, smiling. "Never be sorry for wanting me," he kissed her gently, and eased her down against the pillows. "I'll give you what you want, but it has to be my way."

Carlie smiled again. "Doesn't it usually?" she asked, feeling delightfully normal for an instant.

Lewis chuckled ruefully. "Caught me." He leaned down and placed a kiss between her breasts, then looked up from there, humor and desire sparkling in his eyes. "But you never seem to mind."

She thought of the care he always took with her, the heights he'd shown her, and reached to stroked his hair, feeling the silky slide of it against her palm. "No, I never do," she whispered, her voice untrustworthy again. "Never."

His expression shadowed with concern again, and she laughed through her tears. "Lewis, if you stop again I swear I will hurt you!"

"But you're upset," he began.

She interrupted him. "Yes! I'm upset, and I need this so shut up and give it to me before I get even more upset!" Carlie threatened, frustrated by his unusual lack of understanding.

Admiration warmed his eyes, and he smiled slowly, lifted his hand to caress her face. "Strong, but supple," he said, repeating the statement that had started her tears.

She put her hand over his, not tearing up this time, feeling her own strength now. "I seem to remember you telling me that the female of our kind has the right to demand service, yes?"

He nodded. "I did."

"Then I'm demanding."

"I live to serve," he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face long enough to say it, before he bent his head to hide his expression from her.

He couldn't hide everything, Carlie could feel his smile in her mind and against her skin as he brushed his lips across her nipple. Joy echoed through her, and she understood that he needed this reaffirmation as much as she did.

It suddenly dawned on her that he'd provoked her deliberately. She growled, and he looked up, startled, desire banked and coaling in his eyes. At that she forgot her irritation, and reached down to touch his mouth with her fingers; his beautiful, hard mouth that could take her beyond pleasure. Lewis read her need and kissed her fingertips, then began to move down her body, blazing a trail with his mouth, gently touching each bruise, giving her pleasure instead of pain, consoling her body with his kisses. Carlie arched back on the bed, shifting her thighs apart at the urging of his hands, waiting with yearning anticipation.

Her hands knotted in the covers as he slid his hands beneath her, lifting her into the most intimate kiss possible. His lips parted her, his mouth slick and tender on her. She shook beneath the curl of his tongue, and the tug of his lips on her aching flesh. He moved one hand from beneath her, parting her with his fingers so his tongue could slide deeper inside her. She gasped and arched against that subtle invasion, her body so hot that his tongue felt cool against her heated, swollen skin.

He shifted his fingers upward, circling the taut nub of her clitoris, driving her higher, the pleasure tightening until she exploded into mindless delight. Moaning, she curled her fingers into his hair and held him while her body shuddered into stillness, and she could finally draw a full breath again. When she let him go he eased upward, moving behind her, pulling her into his arms, curling his legs beneath hers until she felt enclosed by him, safe, warm, loved.

"I love to feel you come," he whispered.

His words sent an echoing twinge through her sex. Lewis, sensing it in her, made an approving, self-satisfied sound. Carlie was intensely aware of the rigid curve of his erection pressed against the back of one thigh, but he made no move to enter her, just held her instead, his breathing steady, his control perfect. Sometimes she hated that control, but tonight she blessed it, knowing it had brought him home to her, safe and whole. Carlie put her hands on his forearms where they encircled her, feeling the subtle flex of muscles beneath her fingers as he shifted a little in response to her movement. Cautiously she reached out, opening her mind as she'd been afraid to earlier, fearing rejection then, but no longer.

Lewis was open to her, letting her inside him so she could feel his need for her, his care. His desire was an ember waiting for fuel, and Carlie realized she was that tinder. He was not going to make the next move. If she was satisfied by what he'd already given her, he would ask and offer no more. Her eyes filled with tears, but this time they didn't spill. Her own control was returning.

Closing her eyes, she stroked his arms, feeling the slight dampness left by the shower, feeling the smooth skin of his forearms broken by the scars that ridged them. She was glad his human captors had rescued him from himself, because they had saved him for her. She reached back to run a hand down his flank, then up to his waist. Trailing her fingers down the gentle hollow of his hip, over the convex of quadriceps, she painted him in her minds eye, seeing him with her fingers. Beautiful. But not enough.

Turning in his arms, she slid her thigh over his, opening herself to the arch of his cock. He remained motionless, the only outward sign of his arousal the slight increase in the speed of his breathing. Inwardly she could feel the rush of his need matching her own, his excitement deep inside her, deeper even than her sex. Twined into his need was his equally powerful desire to comfort her, to protect her. That moved her tremendously, renewing her strength. She reached down and took his penis in her hand, warm and silky, resiliently firm. She could feel the pulse of his need there, in the way he couldn't control a push into her enveloping fingers. She smiled. He was hers, she was his. They completed each other. That was what mattered.

Tilting her hips forward, Carlie guided him between her thighs, rocking herself over his cock until it was slick and wet with her desire. She rubbed over him, shivering at the sensation of control. This wasn't like him, this holding back, this passivity. It was intensely erotic to touch and manipulate him, instead of the other way around. The fact that he had sensed her need for that and encouraged it despite his own aggressive nature was a mark of how much he cared for her. That touched her deeply.

The feel of his silky hardness against her own yielding heat made her shiver with the intensity of her need. Having him so close, but not yet inside her made her ache. He was hers to take, completely hers. Just thinking about it sent a clenching spasm through her, a miniature climax. She shifted a little, and used her hand to position him at the entrance to her body.

"Now, love," Carlie whispered. "Come into me. I need you in me."

He pushed, slowly, filling her. Carlie gasped, shaking, as the connection forged between them, physical, but more. She rolled to her back so he lay above her, inside her, reveling in the heavy press of his flesh in hers. He pushed back on his arms. Against the insides of her thighs she felt his muscles gather as he drew back, then felt them stretch as he moved deeper. Her body opened easily to his demand, the familiar, welcome slide of his flesh in hers echoed by the deeper emotional penetration of his feelings in hers. He made a sound, a soft purr of pleasure as he settled inside her. The sound sent sparks of delight arcing through her, the motion made her wrap herself more tightly around him, lifting her hips into his, urging him on.

Lewis smiled and rubbed his nose along hers, catlike, and then took her mouth, his tongue recreating the rhythm he established with his cock. She arched upward eagerly, responding without reservation, her shame and fear completely dispelled by his touch and the intimate tangling of his emotions with hers. Suddenly he stopped moving and bent his head to her breasts, nuzzling, licking, suckling, each slow drawing of his mouth on her hardened nipples sending sharp arrows of pleasure through her, making her moan and lift in response so she moved, rather than him. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her body striving to find release again in his arms.

As her need became more urgent, Lewis responded to it by moving once more, driving into her harder, deeper. His invasion was sensual, irresistible, welcome. He put his hands beneath her hips to lift her into his thrusts, moving her on him so that with each stroke he slid across the sensitized bud of her clitoris, raising her need to almost painful heights. She splayed her hands across the broad strength of his back, tightened her thighs around his hips, loving the way his body held hers open to his penetration, loving the way he made her feel safe even in the most vulnerable state a woman could attain.

They were perfectly matched. Mated. A feeling of fierce possessiveness flooded her, echoed back to her from him. His thrusts deepened, and she felt him finally giving in to his own need, which in turn spiked her own passion. Desire spiraled tightly, demanding release, and then lashed free in a final burst of rapture so intensely shared that it left them stunned.

After a time Lewis found her hand and laced his fingers through hers, sighing as he turned onto his side, his hand splayed across her lower back to keep them fused, even as he relieved her of his weight. Actually, she had enjoyed the feel of him against her, but it was easier to breathe this way. Carlie put her head against his arm, trying to express her delight. He breathed her name, an affirmation.

After a moment he looked into her eyes, a strange unguarded expression on his face. She gazed back evenly, unashamed, fearless, letting him feel her wholeness, and was moved by the relief that flooded him as he took that in. His arms tightened, involuntarily, drawing her closer, and they lay like that for awhile, just absorbing each other's nearness. Carlie's eyes were starting to grow heavy when he spoke.

"Did you realize you've been calling me Lewis?" he asked.

She nodded, gazing at him solemnly. "Yes. I finally understand. I had started to, before tonight, but what happened tonight brought it home even harder. No matter what you've done in your life, I love you, without reservation. You are who you are, no matter what name you use. It was stupid of me to try to separate you into two different people."

He shook his head. "No, I am two different people."

"No more than the rest of us, love. Everything you've done in your life has contributed to making you who you are, and I accept that. I accept you, Lewis, all of you."

He didn't speak, but she felt the surging flood of emotions going through him, confusion, fear, pride, pleasure, and love. He had waited a long time for that acceptance from her, and she infinitely regretted that it had taken her so long to realize it.He had healed her, but she was still working on him. Of course, his wounds were older, and deeper.

Lewis made a soft, negative sound. "No, don't be sad. Not now."

She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. "Not sad, not really. Just . . . emotional."

He eyed her, gauging her honesty, and finally relaxed. "That's all right then."

She nodded. "Yes, it is."

A yawn surprised her. The rigors of the day had caught up with her and now, safe in his arms, she was finally starting to relax. She tried to hold it back, but he must have seen the muscles in her jaw flex with the effort because he smiled, and pulled her closer.

"Go to sleep now. I'm here."

Tom shifted self-consciously, trying to move enough to ease the ache in his groin without being obvious. Sloan looked up from her book, eyebrows lifted.

"You certainly are restless tonight," she commented, curious.

"I just feel uncomfortable staying here," Tom lied, hoping his voice didn't sound as husky as he thought it did.

That was true, but not for the reason he hoped she would assume. Now that Lewis had pointed it out to him, Tom realized his mentor was correct. Sloan was at her peak fertility. If he hadn't already impregnated her, he didn't dare take any more chances. Easier said than done, of course, with Lewis and Carlie in the room directly above them. What he was sensing from them was making his resolution more difficult than he had ever realized it could be.

Desperately Tom wished his empathic senses were still muted, rather than sharpened. Lewis had warned him that was often a side effect of an empathic fugue. When the ability returned, it came back stronger than ever. It wasn't like they were screaming the house down, he doubted the babies were at all disturbed by their parents activities, being three doors down the hallway. But being directly below them in this super-sensitized state was proving to be pure hell for him.

It might have been easier had they both been strangers, since he had learned to screen out such things. But he had been intimate with Lewis, and had once wanted desperately to experience the kind of emotional openness he was feeling from his former mentor now. Getting it third-hand he felt vaguely guilty, like a voyeur, yet at the same time it was tremendously erotic. For the first time he truly understood what it must have been like for some of the men and women he and Lewis had seduced in their training sessions. Excruciating.

Hiding his state from Sloan was becoming more and more problematic. The longer things went on upstairs, the worse it got. Maybe he ought to just go take care of it himself. After all, he'd gotten pretty good at that over the last several months before he and Sloan had finally taken that last step.

"Tom, will you stop fidgeting?"

He snapped his attention back to Sloan, feeling a faint heat in his face, hoping she couldn't see the telltale flush. "Sorry, Sloan. I'm going for a walk, I'll be back in a few minutes."

He stood up, holding his magazine strategically if a little awkwardly, and moved toward the door. He had almost made it when she got up and walked over to stand behind him.

"Tom," she said, a hint of something sensual in her voice, more than a hint in her aura.

He stopped, gritting his teeth. "Yes, Sloan?" He didn't dare turn around. Her scent and the feel of her willingness was all around him, primal, female, arousing, compelling. He had never before felt such an urge to grab her, rip her clothes off, and possess her. He put a hand on the doorframe and clenched it around the wood.

"It's all right you know," she said softly. "The babies are asleep, we probably don't have to worry about them until morning."

He shook his head and willed his voice to work. "No, Sloan. We can't."

She put her hands on his shoulders, massaging them. Any other time he would have welcomed her touch.

"You're hard as rock, Tom, you really need to release some tension."

He almost laughed at her unintentional double-entendre. Or was it unintentional? He sensed a sly undercurrent of amusement in her that made him wonder. He shook his head again.

"Sloan, you don't understand. We can't."

"Tom, I babysat for years to earn extra money when I was in junior high, and high school. Believe me, we can. You know, there's such a thing as taking responsibility too seriously."

She couldn't just take 'no' for an answer. She was going to make him explain. Before he could figure out how to start, she spoke again.

" It's got to be difficult for you. You can feel them, can't you? And you've been with him, and so you know how it is, and you can't help but remember. I understand, really. And it's all right, I don't mind helping."

Under his hand the doorframe creaked, he felt the wood start to give and quickly relaxed his grip before he damaged the house noticeably. "Sloan, no. Just let me go for a walk. I'll be fine."

Sloan took her hands from his shoulders and he felt her hurt. "Fine. Go." She turned away and walked over to stare at a painting on the wall.

Tom felt a moment of guilty relief but he knew he couldn't leave things like this. He sighed and went to her, putting his arms around her, pulling her against him so she could feel his need. She gasped, and looked at him, obviously confused by his physical state, since he'd just refused her.

"Sloan, I'm sorry. We can't, but the reason we can't has nothing to do with babysitting. Well, maybe it does." He smiled ruefully. "As in, if we did something tonight, in a few months we might need one ourselves." He paused a moment, then bit the bullet and added the rest. "If we don't already."

It took her a moment to analyze his sentence, then she went very still, and quiet in his arms. Her eyes searched his face. "Um... would you mind explaining that a little more fully?" she asked quietly.

He could feel her trying not to overreact, trying to control herself and not give in to the sudden panic surging through her. Her emotions were so much more immediate and personal to him that they effectively screened him from Lewis and Carlie for the time being. His arousal eased, and he tugged Sloan toward the couch, knowing that humans traditionally preferred to get bad news sitting down. He wasn't sure how to say it gently, so instead he said it bluntly.

"It was probably a mistake to make love last night. We shouldn't have. You're in the fertile part of your cycle."

Sloan stared at him, openmouthed, a blush radiating across her cheeks. "How could you possibly know whether or not I'm fertile?" she demanded. "I don't even know that myself!"

"Normally I can tell from your scent. A female's scent is very different from one part of her cycle to another. Our olfactory system is sensitive enough that we can consciously detect the differences. My senses were not yet fully recovered from the drugs or I would have noticed it myself, before we did anything."

She considered that, then her eyes widened. "If you didn't notice, then who did?" Her blush deepened suddenly, and she answered her own question with an embarrassed moan. "Oh, God. Lewis!"

Tom nodded. "He mentioned it to me earlier."

Her eyes narrowed. "And just why did he mention it?"

Wondering if he was digging himself deeper, Tom attempted to answer her question tactfully. "You were with Carlie, and we went upstairs to take care of the children. As we were talking, he pointed out that if I-- I mean, if we . . . mat . . . er, pro . . . ah, had children together, they would be Dominants, not humans. I told him I wouldn't put you through that, and that's when he told me that I might already have done so, because of your current state."

"Oh," Sloan thought about what he'd told her, and he could feel the emotions flashing through her, quickly, confusingly. She looked down at her stomach, then back at him, a wry grimace on her face. "Well. That's a complication I hadn't thought about, obviously. I don't know why I never did, I mean, it's not like I didn't know our species are still genetically compatible. Pretty stupid, hunh?"

Tom studied her carefully, her reaction completely unanticipated. He'd expected her to be angry, to blame him. His studies of human behavior had led him to believe that most humans faced with such a shock would react so; not joke, and take a share in the responsibility. "You're not angry?" He ventured, even though he could tell she wasn't, not really.

She shook her head. "No. If anything's happened, it's as much my responsibility as yours. I'm a big girl, I know all about birth control. I was careless." Her smile turned tender, and she reached over to take his hand in hers, bringing it up to rub her cheek against it. "I guess I was just too blinded by lust to think clearly."

The satiny feel of her skin against the back of his hand, and her comment about lust made him aware of the physical again, and suddenly the screen of Sloan's emotions wasn't nearly as effective as the echo of Lewis and Carlie's lovemaking intensified within him. He tensed involuntarily, trying not to react, but it was like trying to ask water not to flow downhill. His body was instantly taut, aching. Sloan studied him, looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back to him.

"Pretty bad?" She queried.

"You have no idea," he said, and it came out a whisper.

She grinned, a very evil grin. It surprised him. He'd never seen that expression on her face before. Beneath it, leaking through the stronger feelings he was getting from the other couple, he could feel a sensual stirring in her. She brought his hand to her mouth, and began to slide her tongue between his fingers. Her other hand slid up his thigh then curved over his crotch, molding the rigid shape of his penis against her palm. His mind filled with images of her beneath him, naked, her creamy skin under his mouth, her hair tangled, her mouth soft. He shook off the image with difficulty, and caught her hands in his. He knew he had to stop her now, before she forgot, before he forgot.

"Sloan, no," he said hoarsely. "Remember? We shouldn't take the chance!"

She lifted sultry eyes to his as she tugged her hands free and reached for his belt buckle.

"Why, Tom! And here I thought you were the experienced one! There's lots of things we can do without taking any chances at all, or we can hunt up a condom."

Sloan finished unbuckling his belt, then opened the button on his slacks, and drew down the zipper with infinite care. Her fingers slid under the edge of his briefs and wrapped around his cock, her skin cool against the heat of his own. He could tell that what she was doing made her feel adventurous and wanton, and that aroused her strongly. In turn that added to his excitement. Not that he needed it. She stroked him, her grip firm, and careful, and leaned forward to kiss him as she played.

Lips meshed, tongues touched, slid, stroked. Tom tasted her desire, felt it in the press of her breasts against his chest, in the quickened beat of her heart. He lifted his hands to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs back and forth over her nipples until they were hard enough to feel through layers of satin and cotton. Sloan made a soft, excited sound and arched forward, pressing her breasts harder into his hands, and the rhythm of her hand on his cock faltered as she forgot what she was doing, distracted by his touch.

He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed a pathway to her ear, where he made her shiver with a series of delicate licks and nibbles before he drew back a little to whisper.

"Take your clothes off. I want you naked."

A jolt of excitement went through her at his words. It made him shift and push against her hand. She caressed him softly for a moment, then let go and sat back to strip off her t-shirt over her head, then unfasten her bra. She dropped both carelessly to the floor, then stood up and slowly unzipped her jeans, and pushed them down and off. She posed for a moment in nothing but her panties and the chestnut cascade of her hair. He smiled, remembering her tease from the night before.

So did she apparently. She didn't go any further, instead she moved to straddle his thigh as she began unbuttoning his shirt, bending to flick the tip of her tongue across his skin with each opened button. Her hips rocked as she worked, and after a few moments he could feel moisture through her panties and his slacks, and smell the heavy scent of her arousal, female and receptive. Every instinct screamed at him to push her to the floor and take her, to forge his claim on her by planting a child, his child, in her body. He resisted. Barely. She trusted him. He kept telling himself that. Sloan trusted him. He wasn't an animal, to be ruled by his instincts, strong as they were. He would not betray her trust.

The slide of fabric against his skin as she tugged his shirttails from his slacks seemed strangely sensual, making his breath catch, making his pulse faster. The simple sensation of undressing had never affected him like this before. She reached to undo the cuff-button on his left wrist, and when she let go of that hand to do the other side, he reached to cup her breast with the hand she'd just freed.

The little buck of her hips encouraged him, and as her fingers fumbled with the button he framed her nipple between his fingers and lowered his head to suckle it. Sloan gasped, cupping his head in her hand, holding him to her as he drew hard on the tight-furled nub, pressing it between teeth and tongue until she moaned his name and shuddered, her delight as arousing as a physical caress.

That image of her on her back beneath him exploded into his mind again. His response was instantaneous and mindless. He had her halfway to the floor before her startled cry kick-started his intellect once more. He deliberately changed destinations, pushing books and magazines off the coffee table with one arm as he lowered her to its surface.

As she stared up at him, wide-eyed, he hooked his thumbs in her panties and slid them down, then off, and pushed her thighs apart with his hands. He sensed the flare of anticipation in her as his hands moved inward, parting the soft folds, opening her. He waited then, deliberately prolonging the suspense until she squirmed.

"Tom, please!"

He smiled, and blew softly across her damp, heated flesh. "Please, what?"

She shivered. "You know what."

"Tell me anyway," he said, deliberately provocative.

That sense of wantonness flared in her again, intense, arousing. Her body lifted toward his, her need too powerful to remain still. "Touch me," she whispered. "Put your mouth on me, put your fingers in me."

Her words and the unalloyed need behind them were like a torch, setting him aflame. He bent and slicked his tongue over her creamy heat. Remembering her request he brought a finger to the tender mouth of her sex and pushed it inward, feeling her muscles tighten around him in a hot, silky caress. He eased another finger into her, and she arched upward with a tiny cry, shaking, bucking. He flattened one hand over her belly to hold her still so he could torture her, and himself better. He was actually panting as he caressed her, aching, ready to explode. Sloan reached down and grabbed him, pulling him up over her, pushing his slacks and briefs down so he was bare against her as her legs wrapped around his and she kissed him frantically, then let him go with a moan.

"We have got to find a condom," she said hoarsely. "I need you."

He didn't want to interrupt things to go searching for an annoying piece of latex, and he resisted her suggestion, sliding himself between her thighs, stroking through the wet heat of her sex, but not entering. He could resist. He had to. She wasn't helping, though, she kept lifting and squirming as he moved, trying to force him inside her.

"Sloan, stop it!" he ordered, his voice holding a distinct edge of desperation. "Hold still!"

"I can't!" she moaned. "I need you inside me!"

Her words were accompanied by an overwhelming burst of sheer, animal need. With a groan, Tom caught the satiny curves of her hips in his hands and held her still as he thrust deeply inside her, reveling in the way she closed around him, surrounding him with tight, wet heat, simultaneously relieving and inflaming his own desire. Sloan made a dark little sound, her need now shot through with a hint of satisfaction. As he pulled back to stroke again, he suddenly realized what he was doing and yanked himself free of her with a groan, trying desperately to get himself under control. He knew better. Even just that little bit wasn't safe. He knew that.

Sloan clutched at him, whimpering, her frustrated need flooding through him, exacerbating his own. He slid back onto his haunches and grabbed her, pulling her to the edge of the table where he had better access, lifting her hips to open her as he buried his tongue in her heat. He filled his senses with the scent and taste of her, using his tongue as he wanted to use his cock since he couldn't have what he needed most.

Her frustration instantly dissolved into renewed arousal, her body taut and arched as he pushed her over the edge. She bucked, clutching the edges of the table in her hands, her head tossing, then suddenly she stiffened and her whole body shuddered as pleasure exploded through her in a pulsing wave of sparks. Her cry of release was wild, intense, and completely silent. He heard it only in his mind.

As the waves slowly ebbed, Tom pulled her into his arms, holding her on his lap as she gradually came back to herself. With her body tight against his, he realized her climax had taken the edge off his own need. Feeling her come had been enough of a release to ease him back to a place of relative control. He opened to her again, trying to use her satisfaction to assist his control, and with a sudden shock he realized she wasn't satisfied, not at all. The climax had taken a little of the urgency, but she was still very needy. As if she knew he'd noticed, she sighed against his shoulder.

"It's just not the same," she said, sounding regretful.

"What's not?"

"Not having you inside me when it happens."

He frowned. "You didn't enjoy it?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Oh, no, I didn't mean that! I mean, it's good, lovely, but it's different, not as intense. I don't know how to explain it, but it's just different. It makes me want more, instead of being the end. I have no idea if that made any sense at all," she finished, looking frustrated at her inability to communicate effectively.

He realized he probably understood better than she did. After all, he'd been taught details of human sexuality that were probably not understood by most of the people to whom they applied. A woman's body was designed for both external and internal stimulation. Without both, there was a definite difference, he just hadn't expected her to be able to make that distinction. That she had told him she was more aware of her body than he'd realized, more sensitive, more sensual. Thinking of that, Tom wished for a moment that they were at the training house, instead of here. There were items there he could use that under the circumstances would make satisfying that part of her need easier, though they might shock her, she was very naive in some ways.

As he contemplated the erotic thought of shocking her that way, she leaned forward, and started to kiss his throat, moving toward his ear, each kiss punctuated by the hot flicker of her tongue against his skin. She kissed his throat, his ear, then her hands came up to the back of his head, tilting his mouth to a better angle. Her mouth touched his, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips, parting them. As she kissed him, she let one hand slide down his chest to briefly shape itself over his still-rigid cock before moving on to find his hand.

Lifting on her knees, she took his hand and guided it between her legs, her question unspoken, his answer assumed. He smiled, and gently parted her. There was more than one way to give her the stimulation she craved. She caught her breath, trembling as he slowly eased three fingers into her sleek depths. She put her hand on his penis again, stroking him as he began to move his hand, separating his fingers to spread her wider. She gasped, her head tipping back, her thighs tightening.

Her response was so uninhibited it made his own desire flare more hotly. He pushed into her hand, enjoying the slide of her fingers around him, but remembering another night and how her mouth had felt on him. He wanted that again, but he didn't want to ask. He wanted her to want it first, that made it so much better. Glancing around the room, he thought of a way to give her what she needed, and smiled, slowly easing his fingers out of her. She moaned and opened her eyes.

"Don't stop!"

He smiled. "I won't, I just want to facilitate things a little."

She groaned. "How can you use words like that when I can hardly remember my own name!"

"Years of training," he said, amused.

His words sent a powerful surge of erotic reaction through her, and he was momentarily puzzled until he realized why. She had come to associate that phrase with the provocative tale he had spun for her the night they had first made love. He remembered her response to that, and smiled slowly. She might be naive, but she had a very good imagination. Shifting her off his lap, he slid his arms under her and eased her back onto the floor.

"Tom?" Her query was a husky, seductive prompt.

"Close your eyes," he said, and felt the little flicker of anticipation from her that told him she'd obeyed. He quickly stood and finished undressing, laying his clothes over the entertainment center. Moving to kneel beside her, Tom ran his hand the length of her torso in a gentle sweep, letting her know he was there. Sloan started to open her eyes then, and he stopped her, covering them with his hand.

"No, keep them closed. Just feel." Tom said, knowing that keeping her eyes closed would allow her to fantasize better, to pretend it was more than just his hands and mouth on her body. He put his hand between her thighs again, stroking with light, butterfly touches that soon had her hips arching, her thighs spreading wider to accommodate his touch. Her excitement was contagious, spurring him to aching fullness, but he sublimated his own need so he could give her pleasure first. Giving her pleasure was like taking it himself, anyway, since he experienced it with her.

Moving, Tom straddled her and leaned down to brush his lips over hers, softly, until she lifted her head to chase his kiss, then he gave it to her, a delicious slide of tongue over teeth, against tongue. He shifted his weight backward, to make her think he was going to enter her and continued to distract her with his mouth as he used his hand to ease the ache between her thighs. His fingers slid easily into her slick, heated depths. For a few seconds she arched into the feeling, making soft sound of pleasure in her throat, then she stopped.

He pressed close, keeping her in place with his body. She clutched at him and relaxed a little, at least she stopped trying to get away. He suspected that with him so close, she was pretending it was him, so he moved his hips, sliding his erection against her clitoris, intensifying the level of sensation she felt as he pressed his fingers deeper. She gasped, her eyes going unfocused for a moment. He grinned, and bent to nibble the sensitive skin of her neck, pressing kisses along it until he reached her ear.

He shifted his hips, stroking himself through her wet curls in tandem with the slide of his fingers out, then back in. "This is better, isn't it? Much better?" he whispered against her ear.

She whimpered, her hips lifting involuntarily, her response swift and deeply aroused. It was nearly as exciting for him, feeling her excitement, and his own, an exquisite torture. Remembering her reaction to verbal stimulation, he spoke again, deliberately raw.

"You like it, I can feel you do. Remember, you can't lie to me."

"Oh, god . . ." She put her hands over her face, hiding herself from him, or trying to. She had stopped resisting, giving herself over to the sensation, working toward completion. The stimulation was starting to be too much for him, and he moved away, replacing his cock with his hand, curling his fingers over her mons, circling a fingertip around her clitoris as he continued to move the his other hand rhythmically.

"Admit it, it feels good, doesn't it?" He kept his voice silky and low, feeling how strongly she responded to the sound. "You enjoy it. It's what you need."

She moaned an equivocal sound, but nodded. The muscles in her thighs went taut, and he watched as her toes curled into the carpet, and her legs started shaking. He had felt those signs before, but never seen them. When he was inside her, he couldn't. Watching her lose herself to pleasure was intoxicating, almost as good as feeling it. She was close, so very close "That's it," he whispered. "Like that, just like that, let it come."

Leaning over, he caught one of her taut nipples between his lips and laved it with his tongue, his fingers still stroking between her thighs, pushing her response. She moaned, tossing her head, whispering a litany that could have been 'oh god' or maybe 'oh Tom' or both. He let her hips set the pace, keeping up with her increasing need, and suddenly she went still. She let out a cry as a visible shudder shook her, and her pleasure exploded through his waiting senses making him moan along with her.

After a little while he gently eased his hand from her. Sloan opened her eyes and looked at him, a slightly dazed smile on her face.

"God, you are way too good at that," she accused.

He grinned, bending to put his nose against hers. "I was well trained."

Sloan shivered, and he felt the tingle of erotic awareness his words provoked. He grinned. "And you like that idea."

"I do not!" she protested, blushing.

"Your body says differently."

"My body wasn't talking," she said, lifting her chin.

"Oh yes it was. You know you can't lie to me."

She made a face, "Can't you just let me pretend? Come on, this is hard for me, I'm a prude."

He chuckled. "Not a prude. Just inexperienced."

She eyed him, her gaze sweeping down his body, taking in his still-aroused state, and she smiled slowly. "Not in everything," she said, leaning forward.

"Definitely not in everything," he whispered as wet heat of her mouth closed over him.

Sloan woke early. She lay in bed staring at the growing daylight outside the window until she started to worry that her restlessness might wake up Tom, and he needed sleep to continue recovering. Finally she slipped out of bed, tucking the comforter around him to keep the morning chill away. As she pulled on her sweats, she smiled at her foible, it wasn't like he needed the blanket, he was her personal furnace most of the time. Still, somehow it made her feel better to do it.

The house was quiet as she used the bathroom then went downstairs, hoping to scare up some coffee, or black tea-- anything with caffeine. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, she noticed that parts of the pale oak flooring were stained dark mahogany where Carlie's assailants had bled on it. Sloan shuddered a little, sidling past the stains into the kitchen, trying not to think about what had happened.

Filling the tea-kettle with water, she set it to heat, got out a mug, and started looking for caffeine. Failing to find anything but a large selection of herbal teas, she was about to give up and choose one of those when a voice startled her.

"Try the cabinet closest to the refrigerator, second shelf, all the way in the back."

Startled she whirled with a gasp, and saw Lewis there. She frowned.

"What did you say?"

"I told you where to find the caffeinated tea."

"How do you know I was even looking for it?"

He shrugged. "Easy. It's morning, you're human."

"Not all humans drink caffeinated beverages in the morning," she countered.

"True, but you do."

Sloan scowled at him. "What, you can smell that about me, too?"

He studied her for a moment, then slowly began to smile. "Ah, Tom told you about that, I see. He is remarkably forthcoming with you."

"We're honest with each other," she said a little defensively, trying not to be embarrassed.

Lewis nodded. "Good. That's best, I think. Your water is boiling."

Sloan shut off the burner, and turned to find Lewis holding out a tea-ball and a box of loose-leaf Darjeeling. Sheepishly she took both, and started the tea steeping in her mug. As she did, Lewis started rummaging in the herbal teas, finding one he apparently liked, and using the remainder of the water she'd heated to fill his own mug. Since he was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and nothing else, her eyes were drawn to the tattoo on his back as he worked. Finally she had to ask. It was killing her not to know.

"Those markings on your back. What are they?"

He turned and looked at her, eyebrows lifted. "You don't know?"

She shook her head. "No, but I noticed that you and Tom both have them. So did the mummy of the girl. You're the only ones I've seen who have them, though. Is it a clan or tribe marking? A status indicator? Or maybe something like a Yakuza tattoo? It has to have some meaning."

"Tattoos are a common thing, they don't have to mean anything."

"True, but these do," she said, echoing his earlier comment.

He smiled. "Yes. Ask Tom."

At the disgusted sound she made under her breath, he chuckled. "You're much too easy, Sloan Parker."

"I am not easy!" Sloan exclaimed, with mock annoyance, then couldn't keep herself from smiling. "Cheap, maybe, but not easy."

He laughed, and saluted her with his mug, then looked toward the door. Sloan figured his reaction meant that either Tom or Carlie was up, and waited. A moment later Carlie came in looking sleepy, but far less stressed than the previous night. She moved over to Lewis, who put an arm around her, pulling her close. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed, then sniffed, looked at his mug, and then up at him.

"Being bad today, are you?" Carlie asked with a grin.

Lewis nodded at Sloan. "No, that's her tea you're smelling. I don't need caffeine to get up."

Carlie grinned and winked "No, that you don't, I can testify. But it smells good," she said a little wistfully.

Lewis chuckled. "Help yourself. Just because I don't drink it doesn't mean you can't. Just don't expect me to be sympathetic when you crash."

Carlie pouted. "Well, if I can't get any sympathy, I'll take this instead," she announced, wrapping her fingers around his, lifting his cup to her mouth, taking a sip. Lewis sent a long-suffering look in Sloan's direction and surrendered his tea.

Sloan smiled, wondering if Tom would be so obedient to her. Thinking of that stirred memories of the previous night, and her face suddenly got very warm. Carlie and Lewis both looked at her curiously, which only made things worse. God, she really had to learn how to control herself around these people. It was like living with your clothes off.

Carlie smiled gently. "It's okay, Sloan. You don't have to be embarrassed. It's perfectly normal, don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried about it. I'm just . . . not used to it."

"After being with Tom all this time?" Lewis queried.

Sloan had thought about that herself on more than one occasion since being around Lewis a lot. She looked at him. "You never try to hide what you are, not from me at least. He did. I think he tried to be as 'human' as possible when he was around me, around us. He never made it clear just how much he could feel, so I really didn't understand until just recently. He wanted to blend in."

Lewis nodded. "Exactly as he was taught. To be ourselves is to be a target, so the less one reveals, the better."

"You don't seem to adhere to that philosophy," Sloan pointed out.

"Not with you or Tom, or Carlie-- there's no need. You know what I am. However, I am completely capable of camouflaging myself, when necessary."

Sloan had to admit he was right. There had been several times over the last few days when he'd demonstrated that ability. Last night, for example. He'd been perfectly in character, the distressed-but-coping husband and father. Last night. She shivered, though she wasn't really cold. Carlie sighed, obviously catching the drift of Sloan's thoughts, and stepped away from Lewis, putting down the tea she'd taken from him.

"We should start getting ready to leave soon, shouldn't we?" Carlie asked. "How much should I pack?"

Lewis reached out and put his hand gently on her arm. "If you don't want to leave here, I'll come up with another solution."

Carlie shook her head. "No. I don't want to stay if it means putting us in any danger."

"I can handle danger," Lewis said, with quiet certainty. "I've done it all my life."

"I know that." Carlie said, her chin squaring stubbornly. "I just think it's stupid to tempt fate. So, last night you said you had more than one alternate location. What are my choices?"

"Idaho, New Mexico, Colorado, or Texas."

"Idaho is too close, but I think I could live with any of the others."

Lewis nodded. "I'll make the arrangements, and then we can start to pack. Tom and Sloan can help." He started out of the room, then turned back. "You should eat something."

"We all should," Carlie corrected him. "Packing should never be attempted on an empty stomach. Sloan and I will start breakfast while you do whatever it is you need to do."

"And the smell of food should get Tom awake," Lewis said, grinning, as he left the kitchen.

Sloan chuckled. "I can see they were close. He knows Tom's eating habits."

Carlie nodded, opening the refrigerator to peer inside. "I think maybe Lewis sees Tom as kind of 'family.' A son, or little brother."

Sloan stared at the other woman in surprise for a moment. Apparently there were some things Carlie didn't know. "Um, yeah," she managed after a moment, trying the Declaration of Independence instead of her more usual Table of Elements.

Carlie turned around and looked at Sloan, eyebrows lifted. "What?" she asked in a tone that was more an order than a request.

Sloan widened her eyes innocently. "What do you mean 'what?'" she asked, thinking: 'When in the course of human events . . .'

"You know what, you're not that good at shielding. Why did what I said get such a strong reaction?"

Sloan sighed. "I'm horrible at this shielding stuff. You have to teach me how to do it better."

"Stop trying to distract me. Out with it."

Sloan bit her lip. "I think you should ask Lewis." Who was going to kill her. She knew it. Although, in her own defense, he had never said the subject was taboo.

Carlie's eyes narrowed. "I think you should tell me before I get really annoyed with you."

Sloan sighed. "Okay, fine, but don't kill the messenger, okay?"

"I promise. Now, what?"

"I, um . . ." Sloan trailed off for a moment as she tried to think of how to say it, remembering how Tom had told her, how shocked she had been, and how aroused. She had no idea how Carlie would take it though. Lewis wasn't just her love; he was her mate, the father of her children. She loved him, though. That was the most important thing. Still, it was going to be a blow. She took a deep breath, and spoke.

"I'm pretty sure neither Lewis or Tom ever saw their relationship as a familial one," she said, finally. "It was more complicated than that."

Carlie stared at her expectantly.

Sloan sighed again. "Are you going to make me say it?"

"Is it that difficult?" Carlie asked.

"Well, yeah it's that difficult," Sloan snapped irritably. "If it wasn't, I'd have said it already. I mean, I know it was tough for me, and the circumstances in which I found out were a lot different."

"Sloan, will you stop beating around the bush?"

"They were lovers," Sloan blurted out. There. She'd said it. She watched as Carlie absorbed the information, her face blank. She was quiet for a moment and Sloan wished, not for the first time, that she had a Dominant's empathic abilities. Finally Carlie met her eyes, smiling and shaking her head slightly.

"All that angst over something so unimportant? Sloan, relax. It's all right." She turned back to the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs and a bottle of milk. "Let's get some food started. Can you scramble eggs?"

Sloan stared at her friend's back, not quite sure she'd heard correctly. "Eggs?"

"You know, hard, oval, full of gooey-squishy stuff?" Carlie said, grinning.

"Wait . . . is that all? Aren't you mad?"

"What, that Lewis had lovers before me? Hon, I'd have to be a moron not to have figured that out by now."

"Well, of course, but he didn't tell you about Tom!"

Carlie closed the refrigerator, picked up her mug and went to sit down at the table, motioning for Sloan to join her. Sloan did, a little nervously.

"Since I can tell you're not going to relax until I explain, I will. You're right, he didn't tell me, not flat out. But it doesn't upset me because I know him well enough to know it wasn't because of the reasons you're probably thinking. Lewis has told me exactly what 'training' entailed, and I know he's trained a lot of operatives, of both genders."

Carlie paused a moment, and Sloan tried to imagine how Lewis had gone about telling Carlie about 'training.' Somehow she couldn't quite see him doing it the way Tom had. No, it had probably been very matter-of-fact. After taking a sip of tea, Carlie went on.

"He may not have specifically told me about Tom, but I could have deduced that myself had I ever really thought about it. As I said, I knew he'd trained a lot of operatives. However, I don't see him rushing off to rescue most of them. Tom matters, and I don't think that's because they had sex. I could feel that Lewis had a strong emotional attachment to Tom, so there was nothing for him to hide by not telling me. As for what those emotions were, I'm not sure he'd resolved that in his own mind. Not before he left, anyway."

"Then you're not upset that he didn't tell you?"

Carlie shook her head. "If it had mattered, he would have told me."

"Told you what?" Lewis asked from the doorway.

Carlie turned, smiling. "That you and Tom were once lovers."

Lewis frowned slightly. "I didn't mention it?" Carlie shook her head. Lewis shrugged. "I suppose I thought you would have guessed, since I told you about training. Sorry. Is that important?"

"No, not really, but it's an interesting piece of the puzzle. You want sausage, or just eggs and toast?"

"Might as well cook it all, seeing as how we won't be back to eat it later."

Sloan looked from one to the other of them, and shook her head, exasperated. How could they be so damned blasé about it? She couldn't believe it. On the other hand, it meant Lewis wasn't likely to kill her, after all. That was definitely a plus.

"So, can you?" Carlie asked.

"Can I what?" Sloan replied blankly, trying to remember if Carlie had asked her a question.

"Make scrambled eggs?" Carlie repeated, plopping the paperboard carton into Sloan's hands.

"Oh that! Yes, of course. Any moron can make scrambled eggs," she said disdainfully.

Lewis grinned. "Then let this moron make them, and you make some of those scones you made the other morning. Those were good."

Sloan felt a flush of pleasure at the compliment, and then got annoyed with herself for it. How come no one ever complimented her on her outstanding lab technique, or the speed and accuracy of her research? No, instead she got comments on her cooking. Homo Dominant might be an evolved species, but they apparently came with all the same old gender stereotypes. She looked up to find Lewis' gaze on her face, and she wondered how much of what had just gone through her mind he'd managed to follow. He smiled.

"Did I ever thank you for spotting that pattern in Givens' activities, the one that gave us access to her?"

Sloan sighed. That answered that question. "No, and don't bother. I know you're just saying that so I'll make the damned scones." She shoved the eggs into Lewis' hands and turned to Carlie. "Where do you keep the baking supplies?"

Carlie chuckled and pointed to a cabinet. Sloan turned her back on the couple and went over to see if they had what she needed.

"Carlie, something strange happened last night," Lewis said quietly. "With everything that happened, I forgot to ask you about it."

Carlie gave a strangled-sounding laugh. "Something strange? Which strange thing in particular were you wondering about?"

There was a moment of quiet, and out of her peripheral vision Sloan saw Lewis gather Carlie close, stroking her hair as he comforted her. She averted her eyes to give them at least a semblance of privacy, knowing that if she tried to leave the room she'd just make it worse. Finally Lewis spoke.

"When Tom and I went upstairs to the nursery, at first we couldn't find the kids. At first I thought you'd hidden them somewhere, then suddenly, they were just *there,* like they'd been there all along."

Curious, Sloan turned in time to see Carlie pull back, putting a shaky hand to her mouth.

"Oh God, how could I have forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?"

Carlie shot a look at Sloan and then her gaze shifted back to Lewis, who looked at Sloan and shrugged. Sloan realized with a bit of a warm glow that they had just decided they could trust her with something. Carlie nodded, then started talking.

"Luke's been doing that to me ever since you left, but he was just playing then. When I thought they were in danger, I told him to do it again, but with the girls too. I wasn't sure if he could, but he did!"

"Did what?" Lewis asked again, a touch of irritation in his voice.

"I don't know! Not exactly. I don't know if he's figured out how to project an utterly perfect illusion of not being there, or if he's teleporting, but he can do one or the other."

Sloan had never been able to imagine anything catching Lewis off-balance, but that had. He tensed, and looked at Carlie as if he thought she might be lying. Sloan found herself thinking of Kevin, and his ability to 'freeze' her, which Tom hadn't known about. This new generation of Dominants must have even more psi abilities than the last. The mutation wasn't stable yet, the species was still evolving. She opened her mouth to mention Kevin to them, but Lewis spoke first.

"Teleportation is impossible," he said flatly.

"I know," Carlie said. "That's why I think it has to be some kind of illusion. That's possible, isn't it? After all, we have other mental capabilities that most humans don't have. But it's good. So good he can even fool me."

Lewis frowned. "And me, apparently. That could be very problematic."

Carlie sighed. "Tell me about it. He scared the pants off me that first time."

"If he'd held out much longer last night, he'd have done the same to me," Lewis said, a little amusement in his voice.

Carlie laughed. "You? Scared? Never."

Lewis looked into her eyes. "Yes, sometimes. Last night, when I couldn't reach you . . ." He broke off, and pulled her close again, his face against her hair, his eyes closed. "That was enough fear for a lifetime."

Sloan decided that obvious or not, it was time to give them a moment of privacy. She sidled toward the door and slipped out, leaving them alone.

Lewis held Carlie close, trying not to recreate the fear he'd felt last night. That was the last thing she needed to feel from him. She needed his strength, not his weakness. He was vaguely aware that Sloan had gone out. For a human, she wasn't so bad. He supposed Tom could have done worse. Carlie sighed, and tightened her arms around him in a hug, then moved back a little so she could look up into his face.

"Lewis, I don't know how we're going to be able to handle Luke, he's just not aware enough to understand that 'hiding' isn't a game. And what happens when he figures out other things he can do with that talent? What if he can use it to get us to do things? To manipulate us?"

Lewis stiffened, and Carlie's gaze questioned him as she sensed the tension.

"I just realized that what Luke has is a variation of my coercive ability," he explained.

Carlie looked puzzled. "Your what?"

"Do you remember that time I made you feel what I was feeling?"

Carlie's face flushed a little, and her lips parted. He could feel the surge of arousal that slid through her at that memory. He smiled, but kept his response minimal. That wasn't why he'd brought it up. She nodded.

"I remember. Very well."

"That's what I meant. I call that coercion, or forced rapport. What Luke is doing is a refined version of that. He can not only force rapport, he can control what he tells you. I can only give what I'm actually experiencing. He can do more. It's interesting that he has this ability. It means the trait is genetically stable enough to be passed on. If Luke has it, chances are the girls do too, unless it's sex-linked. That's always a possibility. Only time will tell."

Carlie moaned. "Oh god, I hope it's sex-linked. Keeping track of one disappearing baby is going to be bad enough. If they can all do it, I might just lose my mind!"

"We'll find a way to cope. We have to."

She sighed and nodded. After a moment she looked up at him again. "Can I ask you something?" she said seriously, strangely hesitant.

He wondered what could make her hesitant with him. It was a rare feeling. "Anything. You know that."

She paused for a moment, clearly composing her question, then finally spoke. "About you and Tom. Have you worked that out?"

Lewis frowned. "Worked what out?"

"Your . . . issues. I know that sounds like stupid psychological doublespeak, but it's not. I need to know if you've resolved your feelings toward him, come to some kind of peace about him."

He studied her closely, trying to feel what she was apprehensive about, but her emotions were too complicated, too confusing. That frustrated him. He needed to know. "Carlie, you're not worried that we were lovers, are you?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not worried about the sex thing, that doesn't bother me. But, I know that dealing with emotions isn't easy for you. I don't want your feelings for Tom to come between us."

He met her gaze, slightly puzzled. "How could they?"

She looked down, swallowed hard, then back up. He felt uncertainty from her. "I don't know. I guess that's what I'm asking. What are your feelings for him?"

She was right, this was difficult for him. He thought back to what he and Tom had spoken about, what they had resolved between them, and attempted an answer. "I don't know. I know how I feel about you, and Luke, and Sorcha, and Arian. With Tom, it's the same, but it's also different."

"You love him?" Carlie asked quietly.

He sighed. "Perhaps yes. I like him. Very much. He is . . . important to me."

He gave her the same words that he had given Tom. They had a vastly different effect. She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. Fear leaked out around her shield. He caught her hands in his and bent until he could see her face. Her mouth was soft, like it was before she cried, and her eyes were sheened with unshed tears. He couldn't believe how much that made him hurt inside. He pulled her close, trying to soothe her with his hands, trying to get her to open up to him.

"No, Carlie, don't. There's nothing to fear. I told you, the same, but not the same. I'm not good at emotions, so it's hard for me to say how I feel, but he is no threat to you. Believe that." He had to make her see, had to make her feel. Feel. Of course.

Lewis closed his eyes, and enveloped her in his emotions; letting her, no, making her feel them. She resisted for a moment, then let him in. He felt Carlie relax, felt relief flood through her, almost orgasmic in its intensity. He should have realized how fragile she was after last night. She needed reassurance, needed to know he would be there for her, not leaving her in favor of a previous emotional connection. That was what she feared. Why hadn't he realized that? Raised human, used to the more casual relationships humans usually had, she couldn't know that the bond they shared was very nearly unbreakable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand," he said against her ear.

Carlie pulled back so she could look up at him, her emotions as clear on her face as they were in her mind. She didn't need to say a word. He just held her, absorbing her feelings. He needed that as much as she did. After a moment she spoke again, her voice calm.

"Do you still need him?"

He considered that, and shook his head. "Yes, and no. Need is too strong a word, I think. He is still important to me, and I enjoy having him around, but what I really needed was to deal with the feelings that his leaving created in me. That's done. We've resolved it."

She took that in and was silent for a bit, then she spoke again.

"What will they do now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I doubt they've planned anything, frankly. Things have been too chaotic since we rescued Tom."

"If you like, if you think it would be safe, they could come with us," Carlie suggested.

Lewis could feel the honesty of that offer, and was startled anew by the depth of her generosity. He tightened his arms around her. "We can give them that option, but it will be up to them."

She nodded. "Of course." She reached up and put her arms around his neck, pulling him gently toward her. "I love you, Lewis."

She backed her words with an emotional punch that took his breath. He felt a strange painful ache at the realization she'd never said that to him before. Not to *him*. She'd said it to part of him, the part that was Llyn. But never to his whole, integrated self. He knew that was what she meant now, and he let his mouth take hers in a searing kiss, communicating his own feelings in a way she would understand, though he had not yet managed to break his conditioning enough to say the words.

Tom woke and knew instantly that he was alone. That was a slight, but not terrible disappointment. Sloan was normally an early riser, she had probably gotten up to keep from waking him. Lying in bed, he reached out with his extra senses to see if anyone else was awake, and got a definite yes. Everyone else was. Well, almost everyone. The babies were sleeping still, not surprising, he supposed, after their interrupted night. He was still amazed by how quickly they had calmed. He had expected them to be less resilient.

Even as he thought of that, Tom sensed one small mind becoming more alert. He sensed mild discomfort, and loneliness. Knowing everyone else was busy downstairs, he swung out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and went to see if he could temporarily substitute for a parent. He padded barefoot down the hall to the nursery, and quietly stepped inside. Immediately discomfort and loneliness took second place to intense curiosity as Arian sat up and looked at him.

After a moment he felt recognition from her. She remembered him, probably from the night before, but he supposed it could be from earlier; he and Sloan had visited Carlie and the babies several times before they had moved up here. He wondered if her memory was triggered visually, or by his 'signature', the combination of personality, emotion, and thought-patterns that were unique to each person.

Moving over to the crib Arian shared with her siblings, he cautiously reached down and picked her up, trying not to wake the others. Judging by the suspicious way her pajamas sagged around the rear, she needed changing, though thankfully by the smell things weren't as bad as they could be. He'd watched Lewis change Sorcha the night before, he thought he could manage it. Arian was quiet, studying him intently as he placed her on the changing table and considered the one-piece, footed garment she wore. After a moment he determined that he would have to remove it completely to accomplish his task. He tugged cautiously on the zipper, worried about catching it on her skin. Arian giggled and kicked, squirming.

"Hold still, I'm new at this," Tom muttered, giving her a stern look.

She ignored him. When he finally had the zipper down, he was faced with the challenge of carefully extracting her from the stretchy garment. Apparently she thought it great fun to resist this attempt, and it took him a good while to remove it and lay it aside. Finally he started to open the tapes that held the diaper closed, then stopped again, trying to remember the correct sequence. Get out the new diaper first, *then* take off the old diaper. Okay. He opened the drawer under the table and extracted a fresh diaper, placing it so it was handy, then he tugged at the tapes, opened the old diaper, and removed it. Holding it gingerly by finger and thumb, he tried to remember what to do with it. Hamper. Right.

He opened the hamper and deposited the soiled diaper as quickly as he could, wrinkling his nose as the smell wafted up. As he attempted to reclose the hamper he managed to knock the lid to the floor instead. He sighed and bent down and pick it up, but movement in his peripheral vision brought him upright just as Arian tried to crawl off the table. Heart pounding, he grabbed her just in time to keep her from tumbling to the floor. Granted it was carpeted, but still! Heart pounding, he placed her back on the table, and this time put his hand firmly, but gently over her middle.

"I mean it now, stay put!" He backed his words with a mental command.

Arian's reaction was instantaneous. She screwed up her face, projecting distress, clearly preparing to howl. Worried that she would wake the others, Tom quickly picked her up again, cradling her as Lewis had shown him. She settled down immediately, and he sighed in relief. Two disasters averted.

"I'm going to put you down now," he said quietly, projecting reassurance. "Just so we can finish this."

He laid her down, and waited, holding his breath. She stayed put, though she wasn't precisely still, as she grabbed a foot and appeared to be trying to eat it. Amazing flexibility, he thought as he quickly unfolded the new diaper and slid it under her butt. It was strange to think that her posterior wasn't a whole lot bigger than his hand. With the diaper now in place, he quickly wiped her clean with one of the damp-tissue things from the box on the table and showered her liberally with equally handy baby-powder, as he'd seen someone do on a television commercial.

That done, he undid one of the diaper tapes and managed to get it stuck in approximately the right place, but her foot-in-mouth position made it virtually impossible to fasten the other side. Gently he tugged on her knee, which caused her to laugh, and fortunately also release her foot. He quickly tried to slap the tape down, and stuck it to her stomach instead of the plastic surface. Damn. Gently he eased the tape up, hoping it didn't hurt. Her skin was so soft, like . . . well, like a baby's behind. He now understood that metaphor. Fortunately the tape removal didn't seem to bother her, because all she did was try to grab his fingers, her thoughts cheerful and intent.

He finally got the tape off her skin and stuck it to the diaper instead. Pleased, he picked up her garment, planning to put it back on her. As he tried to get one of her feet into it, the tape he'd just stuck down popped free. Annoyed, he stuck it back down. Within seconds it peeled up again. Tentatively he touched the surface, and realized that it was no longer sticky. The combination of skin-oils and baby-powder from her stomach had rendered it useless. He sighed, and pulled another diaper from the drawer, wondering how many of them was going to waste before he got it right.

It only took one. He managed to do it right the second time, without too much trouble. He was quite proud of himself. Unfortunately getting Arian's clothing back on proved to be even more problematic than getting them off had been. Grinning wryly, he gave up and picked her up wearing nothing but a diaper. It was the first time he'd ever had more trouble getting a female into her clothes than out of them. Tom hoped this wasn't a predictor of Arian's future behavior, but the thought of Lewis playing the classic 'outraged father' role made him chuckle.

As he stood there, not sure what to do with Arian now that he wasn't concentrating so hard on his task, he suddenly became aware that he wasn't alone. The emotions he sensed were powerful, and overlaid by a deep, almost painful tenderness. He turned to see Sloan standing in the doorway, watching him with an expression which, combined with the emotions she projected, was achingly delicious. Arian cooed slightly, clearly catching the spillover. He looked at Sloan for a moment, and couldn't think of any way to express what he felt, so he chose not to.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, instead.

Sloan grinned. "Long enough."

Tom made a face. "You mean you could have rescued me and you just stood there?"

"I didn't want to interrupt. You were doing fine."

"Fine? She almost went headfirst off the side!"

"Okay, granted, but I also see she didn't. Like I said, you did fine, and I wouldn't have missed that for the world. I, um . . . " she blushed a little, then met his eyes with odd shyness. "I can see that if we did end up with any unforseen consequences to the other night, you'd be well equipped to deal with it."

It took him a moment to figure out what she was saying, but when he did, his jaw dropped.

"Sloan?" he began, trying to figure out exactly how to ask what he wanted to ask. Apparently the way he said her name was question enough.

"I'm not saying I want there to be consequences," she said hastily. "I mean, really, the timing isn't good. Not at all. But, if there were consequences, then it might not be as bad as I thought at first. I mean, as long as it was okay with you."

He smiled at her sudden awkwardness, feeling the same burgeoning tenderness in himself that he'd sensed from her. Still holding Arian, he moved to her side, and put his free arm around her, kissing her softly.

"It would be very 'okay' with me. But just so you know, I don't think there will be any consequences. If there were, I should be able to smell the hormonal changes in you by now, and I can't. I think you're safe."

"Oh," she said quietly.

Tom read a surge of disappointment in her, followed by a slightly larger wave of relief. His own feelings mirrored those. It was a relief, but it was also a disappointment. Perhaps someday, when things were less dangerous, less strange, it would be the right time. As if to break the sudden silence between them, Arian squirmed, rattling off a string of nonsense syllables that ended with something like "Ma-ma." Reinforcing that sound was a mental image of Carlie's 'signature' that was astonishingly recognizable. Tom looked at Sloan.

"I think she wants Carlie."

Sloan smiled. "Probably. Most babies want Mommy when they wake up. Come on, we'll take her down. Carlie and I were going to make breakfast, and Lewis probably will need your help in getting things ready to leave."

"Should we wake up Luke and Sorcha?"

She glanced at the crib. "Let them sleep, it'll be easier to just deal with one for now. If Lewis and Carlie want them awake, they can do it. You know that old adage about letting sleeping dogs lie? It applies to babies, too."

Tom chuckled, imagining what might make her say that. While for the most part Lewis' offspring were remarkably well-behaved, he still remembered a least a couple of times he and Sloan had visited Carlie when they had been . . . less than pleasant, to say the least. He could imagine the results if they were awakened when they didn't want to be. He preceded Sloan out of the room and she closed the door behind them. As they approached the stairs, Tom suddenly stopped, and put out a hand to halt Sloan as well.

"Just a minute," he said quietly. "Let them feel we're on our way down."

Sloan nodded, obviously understanding that he'd sensed Carlie and Lewis needed a little time to collect themselves. As he waited, Tom had a little flash of wistfulness at how completely open Lewis and Carlie were to each other. He would never get to experience that with Sloan. Not unless she Changed. He shook off that thought guiltily. He shouldn't allow such speculation to cross his mind even in a moment of wishful thinking. Deliberately he concentrated on occupying Arian instead. Sloan stood and watched him with an amused smile on her face.

"You just going to stand there and look superior?" Tom asked her, a little disgruntled.

She nodded. "I thought that would be good. I like watching you cope."

He shot her a disgusted look, realizing she wasn't going to rescue him this time either. After a little while he sensed that his friends had composed themselves, which was a good thing because Arian was getting bored with his less-than-stellar attempts at diversion. He nodded toward the stairs. "It's okay, we can go down now."

Carlie looked up as Sloan and Tom entered the kitchen, and her eyebrows lifted as she saw that it was Tom, not Sloan, who held Arian. Now she understood the feelings she'd sensed from Sloan, or some of them anyway. They'd been complicated, but she had definitely recognized that sudden wash of tenderness. Arian leaned toward her father, babbling, and Carlie grinned as Tom handed her daughter off to Lewis with rather obvious relief. She looked at Sloan and winked.

"I do so like to see my men barefoot and with child, don't you?"

Sloan blushed, but nodded. "There is something rather . . . satisfying about that."

"The universe in its proper order, and all that," Carlie said, laughing. "Now, baking supplies are in that cabinet there. You get going on the scones, I'll start the sausage and eggs, and the boys can feed Arian."

"Boys?" Lewis said in mock affront.

Carlie grinned. "Boys." She looked at Tom, and nodded. "Definitely boys. So, are you two going to come with us when we leave, or do you have other plans?"

Sloan and Tom looked at each other blankly. Clearly they hadn't considered their options. Tom looked at Lewis, and Carlie could feel his unspoken question. Lewis smiled.

"You would be welcome to stay with us until things settle down for you, or until we figure out what else to do with you."

Tom turned to Sloan, but didn't speak. Carlie was surprised when Sloan responded almost as she would have had she been able to sense his question. Pretty good rapport for a human. Sloan looked from Tom, to Carlie, to Lewis.

"If people are looking for us, wouldn't it be dangerous for you to be with us?"

Lewis shrugged. "It should be safe enough. If anyone is looking for you and Tom they won't expect you to be traveling with family."

Tom's gaze snapped to Lewis' face, and Carlie wondered at the sudden surge of pleasure she felt from him. It seemed an excessive response to such a logical suggestion.

"Family?" Tom asked softly.

Lewis sent a puzzled glance Tom's direction. "Yes. With us."

Tom's pleasure grew stronger, a kind of quiet glow. Suddenly Carlie thought she understood. Tom had no family, not really. For Lewis to invite him to share that intimacy with them had to mean a great deal. She couldn't help mirroring Tom's pleasure, but when she did, both Tom and Lewis looked at her curiously. She just smiled mysteriously. She'd tell Lewis later. Tom didn't need to know that she'd figured it out. He might not even understand it himself, if he was anything like her mate.

"You're sure it would be wise?" Tom asked, looking pointedly at Arian as if to remind Lewis what was at stake.

Lewis nodded, a flash of arrogance in his manner. "Of course. I can keep us safe."

Tom looked at Sloan, who nodded, slowly. "I would like that, if you're both sure it would be all right."

Carlie reached to take her friend's hands in hers. "We wouldn't have offered if we weren't."

Sloan's smile grew a little tremulous, and a suspicious shimmer glazed her eyes, but she squeezed Carlie's hands.

Tom looked at them, then at Lewis. "We accept."

Lewis smiled, and shifted Arian in his arms. "Good. Then let's get to work on breakfast. We have a lot to do, and a long way to travel."