Page 13 of Tomlin

When she dropped his arm and turned away, he’d followed, grateful to be noticed, even if he expected little other than more abuse. But Grethel hadn’t abused him. Gruff perhaps, and not given to displays of emotion, but she’d made sure he was fed andclothed. She’d sent him to school and provided him with a home. She just hadn’t told him the truth.

“Was she the one who taught you to cook?”

“Yes. And since I had to eat whatever I made, I learned very quickly.” The memory of some of those meals almost made him smile. “She taught me many things, including the tales that I told you.”

“Is she still there in Port Cantor?”

“She died.”

And the pain of her passing, combined with his anger over her secrets, had unleashed his Krythian side once more, driving him back into the wilderness. He’d let it dominate him for several years before he finally returned to his training and managed to regain control.

“I’m so sorry.” She reached for his hand but he forced himself to pull it away. She didn’t attempt to follow it. “I lost my parents when I was eight but I didn’t have any relatives, even bad ones. I had a guardian who made sure that all of my material needs were met.”

He didn’t miss the slight emphasis on material needs.

“But not your emotional needs?”

“No. He wasn’t a bad man,” she added hastily. “He made sure I was looked after and he took excellent care of my inheritance. But he was a very proper, very restrained bachelor who had no idea of what to do with a child. And I was a very awkward child.”

He could hear the echo of his own loneliness in her words and this time he wanted to reach out to her but he clenched his fist instead. She smiled and shook her head.

“Do you know he actually fell in love about the time I started university? With a very pretty, very helpless woman half his age. Fortunately she was also very sweet and she loved him too. She immediately wanted me to live with them, but it was too late. I’d found my path.”

“On your own?”

“It’s easier that way.” She shrugged and changed the subject. “I was thinking about what you said - that the morchev has a negative effect on you.”

It wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but it was close enough.

“Yes. Why?”

“Have you ever been around the stones before?”

“No, although I had heard of them.”

“Then I have an idea.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement behind her glasses. “Why don’t we try an experiment? To see if we can reduce their impact on you?”

His heritage was the root of his problems, not the stones, but admittedly they did test his control.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked cautiously.

“Have you ever heard of exposure therapy? We could expose you to the stones gradually, rather than all at once like yesterday. That way you could gradually become accustomed to them and learn to handle the effects. What do you think?”

He thought it was unlikely to do anything other than further test his control, but it would give him a reason to remain with her. A distant part of his mind warned him that it was a bad idea, but he told himself that he’d been able to control his mating urges reasonably well since his return and he nodded.

“I am willing to try.”

“That’s wonderful.”

A warm smile suddenly illuminated her pretty face and once again he had the urge to reach for her. He could only hope he hadn’t overestimated his ability to remain in control.

CHAPTER 8

Etta smiled as she turned back the covers of the daybed in her lab. Tomlin had tried once again to get her to take the bedroom. She’d refused just as firmly and at some point during the day, he’d made the daybed and organized the small cabinet she used as a nightstand.

They’d started simply enough on her proposal. She’d left the door to the lab open and suggested that he simply come and go as he wanted. The first time he’d tried it, she’d watched from under her lashes as he hovered for a moment at the entrance, then quickly left again. But he’d come back and each time he came further into the room and stayed longer. He must have made the bed during one of those periods, but she’d done her best to ignore his movements and let him decide for himself what felt comfortable.

Although perhaps comfortable wasn’t the right word. Even though he stayed longer each time, his body still remained tense and by the time they sat down to the delicious dinner he’d prepared, he looked tired and strained.

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