THE INSTITUTE, BOOK I: HEALER

by

CASSANDRA GOLD

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.amberquill.com

The Institute, Book I: Healer

An Amber Quill Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the

author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

http://www.AmberHeat.com

http://www.AmberAllure.com

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without

permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the

purposes of review.

Copyright © 2011 by Cassandra Gold

ISBN 978-1-61124-198-3

Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

Published in the United States of America

Also by Cassandra Gold

Clay's Challenge

Quinn's Hart

Dedication

To my mom and dad, for reading to me.

Chapter 1

Tired. So tired.
Tristan shook his head, hard. He had to focus. They were coming for him. The instant he'd spotted
the two suited, ominously similar men downstairs, he'd known. They hadn't found him yet, but
they would.
I've got to finish before they get here.
"It hurts." The plaintive voice of little Cara Mason broke into his desperate thoughts. For a
moment he'd almost forgotten about his patient. Her big brown eyes filled with pain as she
struggled to make her brace-encased legs move the few short steps he'd asked her to take today.
He smiled down at her, despite his worry. "I know, honey. Hold my hand a minute longer, and
you won't hurt anymore."
"You promise?"
Her hopeful yet skeptical face broke his heart. "I promise. You know I always keep my
promises." No matter what the cost.
After a quick look behind him to make sure Cara's mother had left the room, he closed his eyes
and focused. Heat. Cold. Pain. So much pain. He shivered, but forced himself not to release the
little girl's hand.
Tristan knew he shouldn't be doing this. Each time he risked exposure. Still, he couldn't bear to
leave Cara in terrible pain, barely able to walk. Not if he could help it. Besides, they were already
here. He had nothing to lose.
A burst of agony radiated down his spine and into his legs, nearly buckling them. He released
Cara's hand and staggered backward. For a moment the pain took over, blocking out everything,
but then Cara cried out. His eyelids flew open.
Wide, happy brown eyes stared into his. Her huge grin exposed a missing front tooth. "I'm
walking, Dr. Tris! And I don't hurt, just like you promised!"
Pain, exhaustion, desperation, and joy flooded Tristan in equal measure. Emotions threatened to
choke him at the sight of her happiness. Moments like this made it all worthwhile, despite the risk
and the constant vigilance.
I've got to get out of here. They can't see me with her. He forced a smile. "I see you, sweetie. I'll
get your mommy, so she can see, too."
If he could at least get away from Cara before they found him, he wouldn't regret the sacrifice. He
hurried down the hall, determined to get to the nurses' station. They would know where Cara's
mother, Eileen, had gone.
His attention split between the open area at the center of the ward and the bank of elevators facing
nurses' station, Tristan nearly barreled into Eileen as the woman stepped out of the vending area,
a bottle of juice in one hand. The moment she saw him, the tired look on her face changed to
fright.
"What's wrong? Has something happened to Cara?" She gripped his arm, searching his face as if
to find a clue to what had happened.
Tristan wanted to stop, to reassure, but time pressed down on him. Every second he lingered
could bring them to Cara and her mother, instead of just to him. Fighting his growing weariness,
he forced a smile. "Cara is fine. She wants to show you something."
Eileen's brows drew together. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Go to your daughter." Smile fading, he turned away and strode down the hall as quickly
as he could, given the searing pain in his legs and lower back.
He turned the corner and smashed into something big and hard. The impact pushed him back. He
nearly fell, only managing to recover when a hand gripped his arm. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, so
focused on his escape he barely noticed the person he'd run into.

He tried to keep walking but the hand tightened. Tristan halted, really looking at the man for the
first time. The tall, handsome Latino didn't smile. The navy slacks and white coat he wore labeled
him a doctor, but Tristan had never seen him before. He had no name tag, but a pair of glasses
and an ear thermometer stuck out of his chest pocket.
Dark eyes met his. The man tugged him toward the stairs at the end of the hall. "They're just one
floor below us now."
A new thread of apprehension worked its way into Tristan's already tangled web of thoughts and
feelings. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew enough to feign ignorance. "What? The
neonatal unit is on the floor below us. Do you need some help finding it?"
The unfamiliar doctor shook his head. "We don't have time for this. You know who I mean. You
can't escape them."
How does he know? Could this man be one of them? If not, how could he possibly know about
Tristan's pursuers? Fear and uncertainty struck Tristan speechless.
The doctor gave him an impatient look. "I know about the guys who are after you. I can help you,
but you have to come with me. Now."
This had to be a trap. But why would they bother, when they could catch him without going to so
much trouble? Tristan's head throbbed, and he reached up to rub his temple. He was running out
of time. He had to get away.
Paralyzed by indecision, Tristan stood there staring at the other man.
"Oh, for God's sake. Nobody mentioned you being an idiot, so I'm going to assume you're
confused." Rolling his eyes, the man yanked Tristan's arm hard enough that Tristan had no choice
but to follow. He tugged Tristan down the hall to the stairwell and pushed the door open. He
shoved Tristan through the door and met Tristan's gaze with steady brown eyes. "All right, here's
the plan. I'll go distract Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum while you go out this way. I'll meet you
outside in a few minutes."
Before Tristan could ask the man how he intended to distract the men downstairs, the handsome
Latino features blurred. Tristan blinked, and suddenly he was looking into a mirror. He gaped in
astonishment at the sight of his own disheveled black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and slim build.
Even the clothes the other man wore had changed to green scrubs identical to his.
"What? How?"
Watching his own lips turn up in a very un-Tristan-like smirk was a decidedly odd experience.
"Don't trouble your pretty little head, Doc. I'll meet you outside in a few."
At least the man's voice had stayed the same. If the voice had been his as well, he would have
wondered if he was going insane. With a wave, Tristan's doppelganger headed back the way
Tristan had come a few minutes ago.
As soon as the man had turned the corner, Tristan moved. He flew down the seldom-used stairs at
a dead run. His heart pounded, more from nerves than from exertion. Could he trust the bizarre
man who claimed to want to help him?If not, he might be putting himself in danger. Still, what
choice did he have?
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat as he reached the door leading to the back parking lot.
Above all, he knew he could never let them take him. He knew what they would do to him. And
what they'd make him do.His skin crawled at the thought. The strange man he'd met upstairs
might be his only chance for escape--or a clever trap. There wasn't any way for him to know
which one.
He shoved open the door and stood panting in the bright sunshine. Then the familiar weakness
stole over him and he knew his choices were gone. He'd pushed too hard. Slumping against the
brick wall, Tristan prayed the man would prove to be someone he could trust.

* * * *

A few minutes later, his rescuer rounded the corner, features blurring again as he walked. By the
time he reached Tristan's side, he had become an older gentleman with gray hair and a dark,

conservative suit. He crouched down near where Tristan half-sat, half-lay against the wall, his
mouth twisted into an expression of concern. "You all right, Doc?"
Utterly exhausted now, Tristan couldn't even dredge up the energy to worry about the stranger's
intentions anymore. "Tired."
"Yeah, I know. If you can walk just a little farther, I'll take you somewhere safe."
Safe. How long had it been since Tristan had even known what the word meant? The sympathy
and fellow-feeling he saw in the odd stranger's eyes could be false, but he was tired and scared
enough to believe, for now at least. When the larger man pulled him up and supported him with
an arm around his waist, he didn't even try to protest. Together they trudged toward a nondescript
dark sedan parked at the edge of the hospital lot.
After unlocking the doors with a key fob, the man helped Tristan into the passenger seat and
fastened his seat belt for him. Not having to do anything was an unaccustomed relief. With a sigh,
he leaned his head against the car window and let his bone-deep weariness drag him under.

Chapter 2

"Wake up, Doc. We're here."
A hand on his shoulder pulled Tristan out of a deep sleep. He opened his eyes and saw an
unfamiliar blond, blue-eyed man leaning over him. Disorientation and a surge of fear made him
jerk away, scrabbling for the car's door handle.
The man held up his hands, palm out, in a placating gesture. "Oh, shit, sorry. It's me! The guy
from the hospital, remember?" His face blurred, once more becoming the Latino doctor who'd
helped Tristan escape.
Tristan collapsed against the car door, trying to still his racing heart. "You startled me," he
whispered.
"I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. You okay?" The stranger's soft brown eyes held Tristan's
gaze, apologetic and concerned.
When he managed to steady his breathing, Tristan nodded. "I'm okay. Where are we? Who are
you?"
"Call me Cam. Everyone does. This is the Delphic Institute. People like us can come here and be
safe."
Eying Cam skeptically, Tristan considered the notion. He couldn't believe anyone would offer
him safety without getting something in return. This "Delphic Institute" sounded suspiciously like
a research facility.
"What's the catch? What do I have to do to get this safety you're promising?"
Cam didn't appear surprised by his question, or his tone. "Nothing. If you end up wanting to work
with us, that's great, but you don't have to."
Did the man think he was an idiot? A bitter laugh spilled out. "Nothing? There won't be
experiments, or blood tests, or assignments? I don't believe you."
"Okay, Doc, you're scared. I understand that. I was scared, too, when I first came here." With a
sigh, Cam hit the button that unlocked the car doors. "If you don't want to stay here, go. I won't
try to stop you. Just... think about it, all right? Remember you can come back here, if you need
to."
The offer of freedom seemed genuine. Something about Cam's expression made Tristan think the
man was sincere about understanding his fears as well. Still, he'd be a fool to believe without any
proof. "Let me see," he blurted.
Cam's brow creased in confusion. "See what?"
Not wanting to explain, he held out his hand. "Give me your hand."

Although he still looked puzzled, Cam did as Tristan asked.
Taking the offered hand, Tristan cradled it in both of his and closed his eyes. He began to breathe
slowly and deeply, concentrating on the other man's warm skin and reaching for the person inside
the body. Rather than getting a sense of Cam's emotions, however, he felt nothing. It was as if his
mind were filled with white noise. He opened his eyes and frowned. "I can't feel anything."
One corner of the other man's mouth turned up. "You're an empath, too? I hate to disappoint you,
Doc, but I'm pretty much impervious to empathy. You can keep trying if you want, though. I don't
mind you touching me."
He released Cam's hand, unsettled by both his inability to read Cam and the flirtatious tone.
"What do you mean, you're impervious to empathy?"
Cam shrugged. "Just what I said. I don't know if it has something to do with the shapeshifting or
what, but nobody seems to be able to read me. Some of the telepaths here have tried to get into
my head, so to speak, but none of them could."
Once again Tristan found himself in a position to make a choice without much to guide him.
"You do realize that makes it even harder for me to trust you. There's nothing to back up your
story. For all I know, you're one of the people who've been chasing me and this is all an elaborate
trap."
Gazing at him calmly, Cam reached for the door handle. "You're right. There isn't any reason for
you to trust me. In this case, you'll have to have a little faith. Or not. It's your choice." To Tristan's
surprise, Cam tossed the car keys into his lap. "I'm going to go inside now. You can come, or you
can take the car and go. If you decide to leave, be careful, okay?"
With that, Cam opened his door and got out of the car. Shutting the door behind him, he rounded
the front of the sedan and began to walk toward the long, low building a short distance away.
Tristan watched him leave. The anxiety he felt at his rescuer's departure took him by surprise.
There was no reason for him to trust the man, yet he wanted to. Worn down by a life spent on the
run, hiding his abilities and living in fear, he wanted more than anything to feel safe again. A
deep longing, rarely acknowledged but always there, rose up inside him.
Before he was even aware of making a decision, Tristan was out of the car and almost running
after Cam. "Wait!"
Cam stopped. He'd reverted to the blond, blue-eyed appearance he'd had when he first awakened
Tristan, which was a bit disconcerting. Then he smiled, and Tristan's apprehension drained away.
"Decide to come with, Doc?"
"I'm tired of running."
"C'mon, then. You'll like it here, I think." Still grinning, Cam led the way toward the plain, white
complex ahead.
Although the building did look like a research facility, Tristan refused to let himself succumb to
fear and run. No more running. He needed a distraction. "Is Cam short for something?"
"Chameleon. It's the name they gave me. A lot of us who work here have nicknames."
He laughed. "It sounds like something out of a comic book. Are you guys like the X-Men?"
Instead of laughing, Cam gave him a level look. "I guess you could say that. We help others like
us, like you, whenever we can. We also do some outside contracting when law enforcement
comes up against things they can't handle."
Eyes widening, Tristan stopped walking. "So this Delphic Institute is some kind of secret
government agency?" All the anxiety he thought he'd gotten past came roaring back.
"Well, we're not a government agency. Like I said, you don't have to work for the Institute if you
don't want to. There are other choices." Cam's now-blue eyes watched him, concerned. "Hey. You
know I wouldn't force you to do anything, or let anyone else force you either, right?"
"Why?" The question slipped out without conscious thought, but once it was said, Tristan didn't
want to take it back.

If Cam was at all offended by being questioned, he didn't show it. "I've been where you are. It's
hard to know who to trust." Then he shrugged. "Besides, I like you."
Against his better judgment, Tristan believed him. He nodded.
Clearly pleased, Cam smiled. "Good. Let's go, then. It'll be okay, I promise."
For the next few minutes, they walked in silence. When they reached a side door, Cam pushed a
series of numbers on a keypad. A loud click sounded, and Cam opened the door and ushered him
inside. Once they'd entered, there was another, stronger-looking door. Cam pushed a large, round
button on a box that held a security camera and speaker, and waited.
A fake-ominous male voice came from the speaker. "Who goes there?"
"Chameleon, zero-five-nine-six-alpha."
"And who's with you, Cammy?" Another voice, sultry, female, and very interested, joined the
bizarre conversation.
Cam made a face at the security camera. "Wouldn't you like to know? Claws off, Dixon. He's my
guest."
The woman laughed. "Oh, so it's like that, is it? Come on in."
Huh? Tristan definitely had the feeling that there was a lot more being said than he understood.
Bewildered, he trailed after Cam as Cam opened the thick steel door and entered the facility. The
first corridor they followed had the bright, white look of a hospital. At a fork, Cam chose the
corridor veering off to the left. They went through a set of double doors and stepped into another
world.
Here, in what was obviously another wing of the building, the décor was much different than the
section they'd left. The walls were a light cream color, accented with maroon and forest green.
Framed prints of famous artwork decorated the walls. The lighting was warmer and more inviting.
Cam knocked on a dark wood door. "Come in," a different female voice called out, brisk and
businesslike.
Cam opened the door and ushered him inside. Tristan looked around the small, comfortable-
looking office they'd entered. A large, antique desk made of a dark wood took up much of the
floor space. Two plush chairs upholstered in forest green were arranged in front of the desk, but
since Cam didn't sit Tristan didn't either.
Behind the desk sat a woman in her mid-thirties. She was blonde and wore thick, black-rimmed
glasses. Everything about her, from her sensible bun to her gray suit, screamed professionalism
and competence. The slight smile she offered them softened her features somewhat, making her
seem a bit more approachable.
"Welcome back, Chameleon. I see you've brought the healer with you."
Tristan gaped at the woman, mind racing. "How--how did you--"
Turning toward him, she gave him a wry look. "How did I know you were a healer?"
He nodded.
"We've known about you for some time, Dr. Matheson. We've been observing you to make a
preliminary determination of whether you were trustworthy enough to be brought here. We know
you can heal, and we know that you've drawn the attention of several other factions as well as our
own. What we don't know at this point is what other talents you may have, if any, exactly how
strong your talents are, and what sort of help you require from us."
How could they know so much about him? He thought he'd been careful. Somehow he'd managed
to draw the attention of more than one organization. He must not have been careful enough. He
threw a wild look at Cam, who gave him a reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, he forced his
gaze back to the woman in front of him. "You seem to know a lot about me, but I know next to
nothing about you. I don't want to answer any more questions until I at least know who you are."
"I'm Claudia Greenberg. My grandfather, Saul Greenberg, was taken captive by the Nazis during
World War II. After witnessing and surviving what they did to people like us, he emigrated here.
He started the Delphic Institute as a place of safety and learning for anyone with unusual talents.

Both my father and myself inherited his telepathic talents and his desire to help. We've kept the
Institute going."
Although Claudia seemed sincere enough, Tristan wanted to be sure he could trust her. "What
kind of help do you propose to offer me?"
Steepling her fingertips together, Claudia watched him. "There are several options, but before I
can offer you any of them I need to do one small test. If you'll allow me, I'd like to scan your
mind. I won't be too intrusive, but for security purposes I need to ask your permission."
Since he'd just been thinking along similar lines, he could hardly refuse. "I agree, but I'd like to
ask you the same." He held out his hand. "I'm an empath."
With a nod, she laid her hand on his. Then she closed her eyes. He felt the tendrils of her mind
reaching out to his, and he had to clamp down the urge to fight her. Instead, he concentrated on
her hand, seeking her emotions. All he felt was a sincere desire to help. Despite his inability to
read her thoughts, her emotions were strong enough that he felt he could trust her. Opening his
eyes, he released her hand.
She opened her eyes as well. "We can trust you."
"I could've told you that."
Rather than being annoyed by Cam's interruption, Claudia gave him a tolerant smile. "And I
suppose you want all the credit. Good job, Chameleon."
Cam winked at her. "Why, thank you."
Turning back to Tristan, Claudia continued their earlier conversation. "Now that I know you can
be trusted, I'll tell you your options. The first is to be resettled. You'll stay here for a few days,
and within a week you'll be relocated to a new place with a new identity. Of course, if you choose
that option, you will have to keep a low profile and not use your talents so you don't compromise
your identity."
Tristan hated the thought of not using his abilities. Although healing was exhausting, painful, and
had drawn the attention of people he didn't want after him, he needed to help others. He didn't
want to just shut that part of himself off, pretend it didn't exist.
The idea disturbed him, so he put it out of his mind. "What are my other options?"
Claudia leaned back in her chair, eyeing him speculatively. "You could stay here and work within
the facility. Working here would require a minimum of training, since you are already licensed to
practice medicine."
Sensing another option, he leaned forward. "Or?"
"If you complete extensive training, you could become a field agent like Chameleon. Not many of
our members qualify to be field agents. You have to have a strong talent, as well as other more
mundane abilities you may need in the field."
Working at the facility, being able to heal without fear of discovery, had appeal. He wasn't sure
about becoming a field agent, however. That option sounded dangerous and difficult. His mind
raced, turning the possibilities over and over.
With a knowing smile, Claudia nodded toward Cam. "Don't try to make a decision now. Let
Chameleon take you around the Institute a bit, meet some of the residents. Then sleep on your
decision for a few days. There's no hurry for you to make up your mind."
Tristan nodded, relieved, and followed Cam from the room.
The other man gave him a wide grin as they began to walk down the hallway in the direction
they'd been traveling before. "Good job not backing down or freaking out in there, Doc. You're
tougher than you look."
He barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Gee, thanks."
"It's a compliment. I'm glad you're more than just a pretty face."
What? Tristan darted a quick glance over at Cam, not sure how to take his remark. Cam was
probably the kind of guy who flirted a lot but didn't mean anything by it, or at least that's what
Tristan told himself as they continued down the corridor.

After turning another corner, they came upon a man and woman. The man was tall, muscular, and
bald. The bald head, combined with his fierce, tough features, made him look like a member of a
motorcycle gang. The woman was petite and freckled, with waist-length red hair. Both of them
appeared pleased to see Cam.
"Oh, Cammy, there you are. I hope you knew you couldn't hide from us." The woman gave Cam a
mock-scowl before turning to Tristan. "Hey, Doc. I dreamed about you last week."
Taken off guard, he could only stare. What was she talking about?
Cam heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Doc, meet Dixon. Dix is a precog. This big lug is Spoons.
He's telekinetic."
Spoons held out a huge hand. Tristan shook it, pleasantly surprised at the big man's gentle grip.
He also shook hands with Dix, who gave him a seductive little smirk. He ignored her gaze in
favor of puzzling out their names. "Let me guess, Dixon comes from Jeane Dixon, famous
psychic. Why Spoons, though?"
The large man himself answered the question in a deep, gravelly voice. "I can bend spoons."
He had to laugh. "Makes sense."
"So, you're staying here for a while?"
Turning his gaze back toward the tiny redhead, he shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."
Her knowing look unnerved him.
Before he could say anything else, Cam spoke. "We've got to go. I've still got to show the doc
around a bit before I take him to his room."
Dix's pointed stare implied disbelief. "Is that all you're going to show him?"
Cam's mouth compressed into a tight line of annoyance. Tristan wanted to ask what was going on
between Cam and Dixon, but he didn't get a chance. Narrowing his eyes at her, Cam put his hand
on Tristan's shoulder and steered him around the other two without answering.
Surprised, Tristan didn't resist. The warmth of Cam's light grip soaked through Tristan's clothing.
He should have been annoyed at Cam's behavior, but somehow he wasn't. Cam's touch was...
pleasant.
"Hey, Cam. Got a newbie?" A young African-American man with a heavy Southern accent
approached them.
"Yep. Doc, Telly. Telly, Doc."
Telly gave him a curious once-over. "I'm Telly because I'm a remote viewer. I see far-away things
like a TV, get it?"
Tristan had to grin at Telly's explanation. "Like a TV, huh?"
The man shrugged. "Well, actually, it makes me think of Telly Monster from Sesame Street, but I
didn't come up with the name."
Telly's reference to Sesame Street made Cam snicker. "I never thought of that, but now I will."
"Great." Telly let out a long-suffering sigh. "Guess I'll see you around, Doc."
"I hope so." Tristan had time for a tentative smile before Cam urged him forward again.
Their trip to his room was interrupted only once more, when they came upon a thin, pale man
whose shaggy dark hair almost obscured his eyes. The man wore jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt,
and black leather gloves. His eyes, when he raised them to look at Cam and Tristan, were dark
and haunted, yet he dredged up a faint smile for them.
"Hello. You must be the healer."
The man's voice was so quiet Tristan almost couldn't understand what he'd said. "That's me. I'm
Tristan." He held out his hand, but the man shook his head in a barely perceptible movement.
"I don't shake hands."
Embarrassed, he dropped his hand to his side. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"You didn't know. I'm glad you're here. We needed a healer." With a brief nod to Cam, the man
shuffled off in the direction he'd been headed.

Cam watched him go, expression sad. "That's Evan. We got him out of a mental institution a few
years ago. His family had him committed because they thought he was crazy. He nearly was, after
spending time in that place." Sighing, Cam began walking again. "Evan's the most powerful
psychometrist the Institute has ever had. Poor guy can't touch anything or anyone without getting
flashes of the past, present, or future. He's a little strange, but a great guy to have on a field team."
What little familiarity Tristan had with psychometrics came from television and movies. The
reality seemed much different. "What's his nickname?"
"He's the only team member that doesn't have one."
"Why not?"
Cam's expression darkened. "I was the one who went into the institution to get him. The orderlies
all had names for him: weirdo, freak, crazy. They called him names to his face. They treated him
like he wasn't even human."
"That's terrible." Tristan frowned, his heart aching for Evan. It must have been horrific to have his
own family believe he was crazy because of an ability he hadn't chosen. Being sent to an
institution must have been hell for him.
"I thought so, too. I suggested he'd spent enough time being labeled by his ability, and Claudia
agreed. After all he's been through, the man's earned the right to keep his name."
Tristan's healer instincts came to the fore. "Has anyone tried to help him deal with what he went
through?"
Cam shrugged. "For obvious reasons, he won't let anyone touch him, and after all the head-
shrinking at the mental hospitals he doesn't look too kindly on psychiatrists."
Tristan could understand that. It made him sad to think Evan would prefer to go untreated, but
after his experiences who could blame him?
For a few minutes, they continued down the corridor in silence. Finally, they stopped in front of a
plain, dark wood door similar to many others they'd passed. The door was marked with a gold
number seven. Cam pulled a keycard out of his pocket and unlocked the door, holding it open for
Tristan.
Tristan stepped inside. The room was set up like a hotel room, with a bathroom off to the left of
the entrance and a bed, desk, bureau, small table, and television in the standard hotel/motel setup
in the main part of the space. The décor was plain but restful, with dark greens, cream, and navy
blue. On the bed sat a very familiar-looking black duffle.
"Is that--" He broke off the sentence before he could finish. The bag couldn't be his. He hadn't had
time to go to his car and get the bag he always took with him, containing a few changes of
clothing and his most cherished possessions.
Giving him a sheepish grin, Cam nodded. "I broke into your car and took your stuff. I didn't think
you'd have time to go back for it."
He raised his eyebrows. "You were that sure I'd come with you?"
"Well, I am pretty irresistible."
Laughing, he went over to the bed and ran a hand over the smooth leather bag. "Thanks, Cam. For
everything."
Their eyes met, and Cam's seemed warmer somehow, without the cocky amusement they'd held
up to this point. "You're welcome." Silence stretched between them for several long moments,
and then Cam grinned again. "I'll be back bright and early to take you around some more. Don't
let the bedbugs bite, Doc."
Cam tossed the key card onto the bureau and left the room. Tristan watched him go. When the
door closed behind him, Tristan sat on the bed, suddenly exhausted again. In one day, he'd left his
entire life behind. Of course, he'd had to leave places before. He'd spent his whole life going from
place to place, never staying too long in any one location. The first time, he'd been five years old.
His parents had whisked him to a new town after he healed another little boy's puppy. Then, two

years later, he'd healed his best friend's broken arm and they'd had to move again. Running was
nothing new to him.
Somehow, though, this time was different. For one thing, he'd come dangerously close to being
captured. Unlike the other times, he'd had help to escape. He was honest enough to admit he'd
needed help. Without Cam, he would never have made it out of the hospital.
He thought back to the options Claudia had given him earlier. Could he leave and start a new life
somewhere else, without his abilities? How could he be content as an ordinary doctor, bound by
the confines of medical science, when he knew he could do so much more? Would he be happier
living and working here, among others like him?
He yawned. Tonight wasn't a good time to try and make a big decision. He'd sleep on it as
Claudia had suggested, and make his choice later. Digging through his bag, he located a spare
toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. Within a few minutes, he'd brushed his teeth and
slipped under the covers.
As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought wasn't of the decision he needed to make. Instead, it
was of a certain cocky, sexy shapeshifter.

Chapter 3

After leaving Tristan's room, Cam was too keyed up to sleep. Missions, especially solo missions,
always left him feeling overstimulated, but this one was different. He knew exactly what the
difference was--his target.
From the first time he'd seen pictures of the doctor, he'd thought Tristan was attractive. In person,
however, he was much more than that. Everything about the man, from his slim build to his
always-mussed black hair and deep green eyes, drew Cam. When he'd met Tristan in the hospital
hallway earlier today, he'd felt a rush of fierce protectiveness a great deal stronger than he
generally felt for the object of his mission.
Even though he didn't know the doctor in any real sense, Cam could already see how important
his work was to him. After all, Tristan had risked discovery many times. The near-misses in
Tristan's file had been enough to curl Cam's hair before he'd met the doc. The worst part was
Tristan probably didn't have a clue how close he'd come to being caught by the wrong people--
several times, no less.
Cam had a feeling if he told Tristan how close he'd come to being caught by the wrong people,
and how many times, Tristan would shrug and say it was worth it knowing he'd healed as many
people as he could. If Tristan had stayed in one of those places for another day or two, Cam
would never have met him. The thought chilled Cam. He might not know Tristan well yet, but he
knew Tristan healed people to help, not for money, prestige, or leverage. Working for the bad
guys would crush his spirit. Cam had understood that the moment they met.
While he drove to the Institute, Cam had been unable to resist glancing over at his sleeping
passenger. There was just something about the man that made Cam want.
What he wanted, exactly, wasn't clear. He felt a definite sexual attraction to the doctor, but there
was an element to it he hadn't experienced before. It felt like his usual wham-bam-thank-you-man
style wouldn't be enough, for Tristan or for him. Maybe he was just hitting his midlife crisis early.
Cam snickered to himself at the thought.
Walking down the corridor, he thought about the next day. He didn't know if Tristan would stay,
but he thought seeing the rest of the facility might sway him. The lure of being able to use his
healing ability without fear of discovery would probably be strong. Cam could think of a few
other things that might entice him as well...

* * * *

The next morning, Cam awoke early, eager to start the day. He picked up the phone and dialed
Tristan's room.
Three rings later, he heard the sound of the phone being picked up and then dropped. There was a
scrabbling sound, and a sleepy voice mumbled, "H'lo?"
He smiled at the wealth of images his mind conjured up from only a single word. "Sorry to wake
you up, Doc. Did you sleep okay?"
"Cam?" The other man sounded more awake, and a little crabby. "I slept fine until you called
me."
He laughed. "Well, rise and shine, sleepyhead. I'm coming to take you to breakfast and show you
around some more. I'll be there in half an hour."
True to his word, he knocked on Tristan's door in thirty minutes. He'd showered, shaved, and
brushed his teeth so quickly he'd had to kill a few minutes before leaving his room in order to not
be too early. The unexpected eagerness he felt had him off-balance.
Tristan opened the door a couple of minutes later, looking a lot more awake than he'd sounded on
the phone. He looked damned good, actually, despite his evident nervousness. Cam had the urge
to suggest they stay in and have each other for breakfast, but he didn't think the other man would
appreciate the suggestion. The doc didn't seem like the type to sleep with a virtual stranger.
Besides, Cam couldn't be sure which way he swung. Too bad Tristan's file had been sketchy on
his personal life. Apparently, the man put his job before everything, including his love life. Either
that or he was the most discreet person in the history of medicine. Wouldn't his colleagues have
gossiped about his love life if he was gay?
Instead of saying something stupid, Cam pasted on a carefree grin and asked, "So, you ready to
check out the place a bit more?"
"Let me grab my key." Tristan disappeared into the room, returning with the plastic card in his
hand.
"C'mon. I'm hungry."
Cam led the way through the corridors of the residential wing and back to the research and
training wing. A few twists and turns later, they reached the entrance to the Institute's cafeteria.
The large, open room looked much like a school cafeteria, with a long stainless steel serving
counter and many round tables with hard plastic chairs.
Grabbing a plastic tray, Cam got into the food line behind a small group of researchers in white
lab coats. Tristan followed, placing his tray on the metal counter behind Cam's.
Cam waved a hand toward the men and women ahead of them in line. "These are some of the
researchers who work here at the Institute. Some of them have low-level talent. The first guy in
line is Claudia's fiancée, Max. He doesn't have an ability, unless you count being scary-smart.
He's really committed to making things better for us, though."
Tristan looked interested. "How many people work here?"
"There are about two hundred if you count the researchers, the other staff, and the field team.
Most of them live on-site."
"Wow. How many have abilities?"
Cam thought for a minute as he moved down the line, pointing out what he wanted to the server
and taking the plate she held out. "I'm not sure. Probably the majority have at least a small
amount of talent in some area, but not always enough to be very useful."
"Hm." Tristan accepted his own plate, which held considerably less food than Cam's, and
followed him to a round table.
"We missed the morning rush," Cam slid his tray onto an empty table away from the small cluster
of researchers and Institute employees occupying the cafeteria.
"Really?" Tristan looked around as if trying to visualize the room filled with more people.
"Yeah. Usually I barely make it in time to get the last of the food before they stop serving."
"What happens if you miss the deadline?"

Cam shrugged. "I've got a kitchen in my apartment. Much as I hate to cook, I can always
scrounge up a bowl of cereal."
"A kitchen? There wasn't one in my room."
"You're housed in temporary quarters. Once you decide what you're going to do, you'll be
relocated. Either to a new city or town, or into one of the permanent resident units."
"Oh. Okay." Tristan's frown was more thoughtful than upset.
The man definitely had a lot of decisions to make. Cam could sympathize. He gave himself and
Tristan time to eat a bit of the food on their plate before letting the other man in on his plans for
the day. "I thought since you're a doctor, you might like to see the medical facilities first, and then
we can tour the rest of the Institute."
The smile he got told him he'd made the perfect call. "That would be wonderful."
Phase One of "Operation Convince Tristan to Stay" was underway. Cam already knew Tristan
would love the medical facilities. After the grand tour, he'd start working on talking the man into
his bed. He could be persistent when he wanted to.
They ate for a while in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When he noticed Tristan pushing
the remains of his food around his plate, Cam refocused on the task at hand."You ready to go?"
At Tristan's nod, Cam stood, picked up both their trays and led the way toward the door.
Unfortunately, their attempt at escape was short-lived. The breakfast rush might have been over,
but there were still plenty of people around, and everyone wanted to meet the new arrival.
A large group of women came over first. He recognized Delilah, a low-level telepath who ran the
daycare center. Her reputation for seducing and discarding men made her as notorious as Cam.
Almost.
With a fake smile, he made introductions. "Tristan, meet Delilah, Karen, Angie, and Susan." He
pointed at each woman in turn. "Ladies, meet Dr. Tristan Matheson."
Tristan's title had an obvious effect. The women moved closer, Delilah especially. She shook
Tristan's hand, and her grip lingered. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Matheson. I'd love to show you
around." Her sultry voice clearly implied she'd love to show him anything he wanted to see.
Tristan's face reddened. He pulled his hand away in a careful move that appeared to be designed
not to offend. "Delilah, right?" At her nod, he offered a hesitant smile. "Cam's going to show me
around today, but thanks for the offer."
"Anytime, sweetie." The emphasis she put on the first word was anything but subtle.
Cam was happy to see another group approach, ready to meet the new arrival, until he noticed the
group consisted mainly of women. Any other time, he would have found the whole situation
hilarious, or enjoyed being in the center of the action, but not this time. He had to stifle his
annoyance at the way several women gushed all over the handsome doctor. To Cam's relief,
Tristan seemed uncomfortable with any kind of flirting, whether blatant or veiled. Cam had to
remind himself a couple of times that the man's reaction didn't mean he'd welcome advances from
Cam, either. Maybe he was just shy.
Finally they managed to escape the cafeteria during a lull in the stream of people wanting
introductions. The medical area of the facility wasn't far. It was divided into sections for research,
treatment, surgery, and recovery. A couple of minutes later, they entered the main infirmary.
"Hello, Cam. This must be Dr. Matheson." The thin, balding man pushed up the sleeves of his
overlong lab coat and turned to Tristan. "I'm Dr. Lawrence Roget. I'm in charge of the infirmary."
"And the Institute's strongest healer," Cam added as the two doctors shook hands.
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Roget."
Dr. Roget smiled. "Call me Larry. Claudia told me you're a healer."
Tristan nodded, adding, "And you can call me Tristan."
"Or Doc." Cam smirked when Tristan shot him an irritated look.

Larry laughed, motioning for them to follow him. He proceeded to give them a tour of the
infirmary. Cam wasn't particularly interested in the medical supplies and machines around them.
He amused himself by watching Tristan's reactions to the state-of-the-art equipment.
When Larry finished showing them around, they ended up back where they'd started. The older
doctor gave Tristan a considering look. "I don't mind telling you we could really use another
healer around here, Tristan. I'm a good doctor, but my healing ability is minimal. I'm guessing
yours is much stronger."
Expression guarded, Tristan gave a half-shrug. "Maybe. At any rate, I haven't decided what I want
to do yet. I want to help people, but if I let them relocate me I could have a chance at a normal
life."
"My own talents have never been great enough to get noticed, but I've worked here long enough I
think I can understand that. Whatever you decide, I wish you the best." Larry shook Tristan's
hand again.
More than ready to move on, Cam gave Tristan a friendly nudge. "Let's go, Doc. We've got a lot
of stops to make this morning." Turning to the older man, he nodded. "Thanks, Larry. See you
later."

* * * *

By lunchtime, Cam had managed to shepherd Tristan through the majority of the Institute. They'd
spoken to several of the researchers, including Max, about some of the studies going on. He'd
introduced the doctor to a few more employees while they'd checked out some of the training
areas. Although they didn't interest him personally, he also made sure to show Tristan the
greenhouse and gardens hidden at the center of the Institute. Walking the serene paths through the
plants, trees, and flowers had seemed to relax Tristan, and he'd been delighted by the fresh
strawberries one of the gardeners had given him. Cam had to admit that walking around the
gardens was a lot more interesting with Tristan there than he'd found it to be when he was alone.
The last stop they made was to the small area where the talented children were schooled, and if
they didn't have parents, housed. Several of the children had parents who had their own special
skills, which made for an interesting combination of abilities. Tristan seemed awed by the idea of
a place where children could hone their talents and be free to be themselves.
While he and Tristan watched the children play, something happened that couldn't have fit into
his agenda to convince the man to stay better if he'd planned it himself. Two of the younger girls
were chasing each other, playing some sort of tag. One of them tripped, striking her head against
the edge of a table. A large gash opened up on her forehead. As head wounds often do, the gash
began to bleed--a lot. The child began to cry instantly.
Cam cringed. The only thing worse than a crying woman, in his opinion, was a crying child. He
looked around for the teacher.
In an instant, Tristan was by the sobbing girl's side. He knelt beside her, his voice calm and
steady. "Hurt yourself, did you? Let me have a look." He tilted her head up and peered at the cut.
"I'm Dr. Tris. What's your name?"
"Allie." The little girl's lip still trembled, but her tears slowed. "Are you really a doctor?"
"Yep." Tristan placed his fingertips on Allie's forehead, near the cut. "I know lots of doctor stuff.
Did you know blood is green?"
"It is not! It's red! You're silly." Allie giggled.
To Cam's amazement, she seemed to have forgotten her pain and fear. As he watched, the gash on
her forehead shrank and disappeared, leaving unblemished skin.
Despite a sudden, strange tightness about his expression, Tristan smiled at the girl. "There you go.
All better."
Allie's grin lit up her small face. "Thank you, Dr. Tris."
"You're welcome." Tristan stood, swayed a bit. His face was paler than before.
Something wasn't right. Cam moved to Tristan's side. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."
The teacher, who must have seen the entire incident, helped Allie to her feet. "You need to be
more careful, young lady. This is why we don't run in the classroom." She then turned to Tristan.
"You must be the new doctor I heard about this morning. Thank you for helping Allie."
Tristan's love of healing shone through in his happy expression. "It's my job."
The teacher said something else, and Tristan responded, but Cam didn't pay any attention. His
focus was all on Tristan. The pleasure Tristan took in helping others made Cam admire the man
even more. Clearly the doctor was a man of many talents.
The intensity of his desire to have Tristan turn that kindness and focus on him should have scared
him, but it didn't. As they walked toward the cafeteria for lunch, all he could think was he had to
convince Tristan to stay.

Chapter 4

He'd healed a child in front of witnesses, and received only gratitude in response. No fear, or
anger, or condemnation. No assessing glances to figure out how to get a profit from what he could
do. Nothing but a happy little girl, a thankful teacher, and an admiring look from Cam. Tristan
didn't want to consider his own reaction. He'd wanted to bask in Cam's approval, to figure out a
way to get Cam to give him the look again.
Having the freedom to do what came as naturally to him as breathing was heady. Not for the first
time, he wondered if he could give this up for a "normal" life. What did the word mean, anyway?
Could a man like him ever be normal? It wasn't as if he had any experience to draw on. His whole
life, from childhood to now, had been spent running away, first with his adoptive parents and then
by himself. The thought of staying in one place and pretending to be the same as everyone else
was stifling, even frightening, in a way.
As he and Cam walked toward the cafeteria, he rubbed his temple. The pain he took away from
others always lingered in him, albeit in a muted form. He was tired, too. Healing the cut on the
girl's head had not exhausted him the way a more serious injury would have, but he didn't feel up
to eating in the cafeteria, surrounded by curious stares.
Cam must have noticed him rubbing his temple, because the man frowned. "You okay, Doc?"
"I'm fine. Just tired. I don't really feel like eating in the cafeteria, though."
"No problem." At the next fork in the corridor, Cam turned back toward the residential wing. "I've
got a kitchen in my place. I'll scrounge up something for us to eat."
A few minutes later, Tristan perched on a barstool in Cam's tiny kitchen, watching the other man
put together two roast beef sandwiches. His offer to help had been refused. Cam had given him a
soda, ushered him onto the stool, and ordered him to relax.
For some reason, watching Cam at work was soothing. People didn't often do things for him,
because he never let anyone get close enough. He'd always had to keep too many secrets to have
any real friends. Here at the Institute, however, he could change that. Cam knew about his
abilities, had seen them in action. He had seen the other man's as well, making them even in a
way. Also, he liked Cam. Despite his cockiness, the shapeshifter was funny, and had been kind to
him. The idea of having a real friend was unexpectedly appealing. Perhaps he'd had the desire for
companionship all along, suppressing it because he knew it couldn't happen.
"Deep thoughts?"
Tristan looked up at the question. Cam's expression, a combination of inquisitiveness,
compassion, and humor, warmed him. He smiled. "Not really."
Cam gave him a grin. "Good. No deep thoughts allowed in my presence."

He laughed and accepted the plate Cam pushed across the counter. Suddenly hungry, he devoured
the sandwich and chips like they were the best things he'd ever eaten. Healing took a lot of
energy, and afterward he needed to replenish it.
While they ate, they chatted about movies, television shows, and books they both liked. Their
tastes turned out to be very different. Cam liked action-packed movies and books, or comedies,
and forensics TV shows. Tristan admitted to preferring foreign films and dramas, and he read
mainly mysteries. They discovered a mutual dislike for reality shows.
"They're all so stupid," Cam complained. In a fake announcer voice, he intoned, "Tonight, watch
as twenty bachelors vie for the love of one man-eating shark. Then, in an hour, see ten aspiring
singers try to make their way through an obstacle course--that's on fire!"
Tristan couldn't help chuckling. "I'm surprised nobody's thought of those."
"Hey, if anybody wants to use my ideas, they'd better pay me royalties."
"I can't believe you're here and not in Hollywood, working up pilots for new shows."
Undeterred, Cam put on a modest expression. "My first love is helping people. What can I say?"
Tristan rolled his eyes, amused despite himself.
When they finished eating a few minutes later, Cam picked up the plates and took them to the
sink. "How's the head, Doc?"
To his surprise, Tristan realized the pain was gone. He felt energized and ready for whatever
came next. "I feel a lot better now. Thanks for lunch."
"It was my pleasure." Cam's voice was sincere and almost sweet. Then he seemed to shake off the
moment, his carefree grin making another appearance. "Ready to check out the rest of this place,
then?"
"Lead on."

* * * *

Hours later, Tristan had toured the entire facility, with the exception of a few restricted areas.
Cam offered to walk him back to his place, but he demurred and asked for directions instead. He
didn't want to take up too much of Cam's time, and he wanted to learn the layout of the building
on his own. On the way back to his room, he ran into Claudia, who invited him to dinner. After a
brief nap, he put on the nicest clothes he had with him and made his way to Claudia's living
quarters.
His knock was answered by Max, who gave him a welcoming smile. "Hey, Tristan, nice to see
you again."
Tristan couldn't help smiling back. The researcher was one of those people who had an air of
perpetual happiness about him. Tristan didn't need his empathy to see it. "Hi, Max."
He followed the older man into the living room. It was decorated in shades of green and gold,
bright and not at all businesslike or clinical.
Max waved him toward a large, overstuffed sofa. "Would you like a glass of wine?"
Tristan shook his head. "No thanks." Alcohol went to his head way too fast.
Max sat in the armchair beside the couch. "Did you get to tour the Institute this morning?"
"Yes, I did. You have an excellent facility here."
At that moment, Claudia came in from the kitchen. She wore a pretty red dress rather than a suit,
and her hair hung in loose waves around her face. The transformation from the previous day was
startling.
"Hello, Tristan. Are you gentlemen ready to eat?"
The adoring look Max gave her told Tristan the main reason for the researcher's happy state. Max
crossed the room and kissed his fiancée's cheek. "Definitely. You know how I love your
cooking."
Being in the room with so much joy was both warming and depressing. Tristan was glad for them,
but at the same time his own lack of family, friends, or love of any kind was more noticeable as a
result. Determined not to let bad feelings ruin his evening, he followed them into the dining room.

Over dinner, Claudia entertained them with tales of growing up at the Institute. Max talked a bit
about his research, and what else the R & D department had in the works. He also brought up
what had happened earlier with the little girl, mentioning the Institute's need for skilled healers.
Tristan didn't feel pressured to agree to stay, however. Max's curiosity about his abilities was
genuine, and the man wasn't trying to force him to make a decision. Although he knew Claudia
wanted him to stay as well, she said nothing.
Even so, he found himself speaking. "You do need more healers here. I think I'd like to stay, at
least for a while."
Claudia's smile was both pleased and considering. "That's wonderful, Tristan. May I ask what
made you decide to stay?"
Several factors had gone into his sudden decision. Unwilling to think too deeply about them all,
he settled on the easiest explanation. "I realized today how much more I can do in a place where I
can heal people without having to hide it."
Max nodded. "That's what many of the talented who choose to stay say. I can't imagine what it
must be like to have to hide what you are."
"Tomorrow I'll make arrangements to have you moved to some of the larger living quarters. You
can work with Larry in the medical area on a temporary basis, and if you like living here we'll
come up with a more permanent arrangement. Sound good?"
At Claudia's expectant look, Tristan agreed. Dinner continued with a decadent chocolate mousse.
Their conversation centered around what his duties might be and his new living quarters.
Although the conversation was undoubtedly interesting, Tristan found his mind wandering. The
whole time they talked, his thoughts kept turning to telling Cam he was staying, and what the
shapeshifter's response would be. Those same thoughts occupied his mind as he lay in bed later
that night. Would Cam be pleased he was staying? Why did he care?
He was still wondering when he finally fell asleep.

Chapter 5

After a night spent tossing and turning, Cam woke up on edge. Despite his lack of precognitive
powers, he'd become convinced Tristan would make his decision to stay--or go--during the night.
Because he wasn't there, he couldn't influence the outcome, and that simple fact drove him insane.
Since coming here, he'd almost always been able to manipulate situations to his benefit. This
time, however, he couldn't. He would have to hope Tristan had been impressed enough with the
facilities and happy enough with being allowed to heal to stay.
Uncertainty, combined with his own anger at himself for caring so much, had kept him awake for
hours. When he finally got to sleep, he'd dreamed of Tristan; first of them having sex, and later of
Tristan leaving. The blare of his alarm woke him from the second dream. For once he was
grateful for the interruption.
He got out of bed, showered, brushed his teeth, and dressed. The bad mood caused by his dream
lingered as he headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. He reached the cafeteria a few minutes later.
As soon as he had his tray of food, he started looking for an out-of-the-way place to sit. He was in
no mood for socializing this morning. Before he made it across the room to the table he'd chosen,
however, he spotted Tristan sitting across from Larry Roget. They were deep in conversation.
Although he knew Larry was at least twenty years older than Tristan, and happily married to boot,
he couldn't help the twinge of jealousy he felt at seeing them talking. He wanted Tristan to focus
on him that way.

Almost the instant the thought occurred to him, Tristan looked up. Their eyes met, and the bright
smile he'd been envying was suddenly pointed at him. Without conscious thought on his part, he
smiled back. He began walking toward Tristan's table, pulled like a puppet on a string.
"Good morning, Cam." Tristan seemed happy to be alive this morning.
God, that smile. Cam feigned a casualness he didn't come close to feeling. "Hey, Doc. How's it
going?"
"Really good. Larry and I have been discussing my new duties."
Did that mean what he thought it did? "Duties?"
"I'm going to be working at the infirmary. I've decided to stay, at least for a while."
Cam's bad mood evaporated like it had never existed. Tristan was staying. "That's great."
Standing, Larry motioned toward his chair. "Have a seat, Cam. I need to get over to the infirmary.
I'll see you later, Tristan." With a nod, he left.
Cam slid into the now-vacant chair. "So, you're going to stay."
"I'm giving it a shot. I figure I should know within a couple of weeks whether I want to stay here
permanently or not."
To give Tristan a little incentive, Cam gave one of his patented grins. "I think you'll decide to
stay. There are a lot of reasons to like it here." Hint, hint.
Tristan nodded, seeming oblivious to his flirtatious undertone. "The medical facilities alone are a
pretty good one."
Cam sighed. How could a doctor be so clueless? Maybe the man just wasn't attracted to him. That
would suck. To his horror, the thought actually hurt his feelings. What was he, a girl? He ate a
few bites of food and tried again. "Want to get dinner later?"
"Sure."
"We could eat here, or I could make something if you want."
Another smile. Tristan had the best smile. "Thanks."
"No problem." They ate in companionable silence after that. Cam didn't usually like long silences,
but in this case it wasn't so bad. For once he was content to sit quietly and eat.

* * * *

The morning flew by. Cam spent the majority of the time on his ongoing training with the rest of
the members of the field team. Everyone who left the Institute for missions had to practice
shooting, fighting, stealth techniques, and using various pieces of technology. Claudia liked them
to stay sharp in case something went wrong. Cam didn't mind the practice. In fact, he enjoyed
most of it, the fighting in particular.
The thing he didn't always enjoy was shifting on command. In the afternoon, he ended up paired
with Dix. She showed him pictures and he had to try to shift into a likeness of the person in the
picture as quickly as he could. Generally he had no problem with the exercise, but today Dix
seemed determined to piss him off. Three pictures in he was positive she was yanking his chain.
She'd shown him an old man, an ugly, pimple-faced teenager, and now a very well-endowed
woman.
She knew he hated shifting into women. He had no problem with women in general, he just didn't
want to be one. Also, his voice didn't change when he did, so he felt stupid as hell when he looked
like a woman. Up to this point he'd played a woman for a mission a grand total of once. He'd had
to keep his mouth shut and let a repulsive guy paw him while the other members of the team
liberated some information from the guy's laptop. It hadn't been a pleasant experience. Of course,
even Dix didn't know how much the incident had bothered him, since he hadn't told anyone.
He frowned at the picture. "Jeez, Dix, what's your deal today? That woman looks like a fucking
Playboy bunny."
She smirked. "Do you think so?"
"As if you didn't know. Let's do another one."
"No, I want to see you do this one."

Her stubborn expression irked him, but he knew she wouldn't back down. Scowling, he
concentrated on the picture and shifted. Moments later, long, blonde curls hung heavy on his
shoulders and over his substantial cleavage.
Dixon grinned. "You look hot."
"Fuck you," he growled.
"No thanks. I prefer men. But maybe the new doctor would take you up on it."
Her words hit him hard. Deep inside, where he was still the lonely little boy nobody wanted.
Those years still haunted him. How many times had he tried to make himself into what others
wanted, only to be rejected anyway? Hiding his flinch, he shifted back. "Whatever. I'm done
here."
"Oh, come on, Cammy. I was only teasing."
Ignoring her apologetic tone, he stood and left the room. He stalked back to his place and flopped
onto his bed, thinking. What if Tristan really did prefer women? Cam would do a lot of things to
get a guy, but he drew the line at posing as a woman. And why the hell did he care, anyway? He
barely knew Tristan.
No matter how many times he told himself that, however, he did care. He wasn't the kind of guy
who got attached. Usually, he was more of a one-night stand type. He didn't get many
opportunities to meet people, and when he did he couldn't stay. That had never bothered him
before. Why did he feel like he might want more all of a sudden?
Jumping out of bed, Cam went to his closet to dress for the night ahead. He would find out if
Tristan liked guys, and sleep with him if he did. Once he got the man out of his system everything
would go back to normal.

Chapter 6

From the moment Tristan set foot in the infirmary, Larry put him to work. First he helped sterilize
instruments and stock supplies. The work was dull, yet soothing because he'd performed similar
tasks in doctor's offices and hospitals all over the country.
"I see you're an old hand at this." Larry finished inventorying boxes of gauze pads and put them
into a cabinet. "I admit it's nice to have someone help me with this. It's my least favorite part of
the job."
Tristan put his own inventoried items into the cabinet and made a notation on the sheet. "I don't
mind it. I've worked at a lot of places where the nurses had to do all this kind of thing, but other,
smaller places were so understaffed I had to do everything myself."
"Ah, yes. The joys of understaffing. I've been there." Larry smiled and put another box away.
"We aren't heavily staffed here, either, although I do have a few nurses. There's one now." He
indicated a thin, red-haired young woman who had just entered the room.
The young woman hurried into the room and made a beeline for Tristan. "You must be the Dr.
Matheson I've heard so much about." She giggled and offered a hand. "I'm Cindy."
"Nice to meet you, Cindy." Tristan shook her slim, soft hand. He tried to release her, but she
didn't let go.
Larry cleared his throat. "Cindy, can you deal with the front for a while? We don't have any
appointments, but we're sure to have a walk-in or two before the morning's over."
"Sure, Dr. Roget." Cindy gave Tristan a last, long look and turned on her heel.
Tristan darted a glance at Larry, who appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. Before Larry
could say whatever he was holding in, Tristan blurted, "Do you get a lot of interesting cases
working here?"

"Definitely." Larry nodded. "Working here can be ordinary enough I almost forget where I am,
but sometimes somebody will remind me. Last week we had a little boy come in who'd been
making a toy plane fly with his telekinesis. He got a little too excited and flew it into his own
head. We had one patient whose hearing was so sensitive something as simple as a ticking clock
sounded like thunder. And then we've got the usual assortment of viruses, scraped knees, and
whatnot as well."
"Wow." Obviously the Institute would be an interesting place to work. It was reassuring to know
no matter how unusual the people here, they still had some of the same problems an ordinary
doctor's office would face.
At noon, a couple of the medical researchers and Cindy came in for lunch. The researchers had
read a study about the effects of positive thinking on human health. They speculated on how
telepaths could help improve the health of others by sending positive thoughts to sick patients.
Tristan listened to their conversation with interest, though he didn't add much himself.
Cindy, who'd sat next to him, nudged him. "How do you like it here so far, Dr. Matheson? I'm
sure it's lonely being in a new place." She gave him a sympathetic smile and moved a little closer
to him.
Her expression--and proximity--made him nervous. He liked women, to work with and as friends,
but he had never found them attractive. He tried to edge away without being obvious. "I'm used to
it. I've moved a lot."
"Poor Tristan. I can call you Tristan, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she barreled on.
"What you need is a friend. I'm a good listener, and I'm single, so I have plenty of free time. We
can't have you getting lonely."
"Um... " There must not be enough single men at the Institute, or maybe it was just Tristan's title.
Either way, he wasn't interested. He wondered if his best bet would be to come out and tell Cindy
that. Or he could tell her the only person he'd met that he had any interest in was Cam. That
probably wouldn't go over well.
One of the researchers looked at his watch. "Looks like lunch time's over. See you later, Larry.
Nice to meet you, Tristan."
Tristan smiled and nodded. "You, too."
The researchers gathered up their trash and left. Cindy acted like she wanted to linger, but a stern
glance from Larry sent her off to the other room to work on whatever she'd been doing before
lunch.
Larry turned a knowing grin on Tristan as soon as the others left. "Cindy is persistent, isn't she?"
"That's an understatement." Tristan knew he must be blushing. In an attempt to hide his
embarrassment, he pretended to tidy up an already organized area.
"She isn't really your type, is she?"
His restless movement stopped. Did Larry know? He'd often had to hide his sexuality on top of
everything else, and he'd hated it. The whole point of staying here had been to be himself--his
whole self. A place that billed itself as a safe haven for people with unusual talents probably
wouldn't have a problem with him being gay, but he needed to make sure. He took a deep breath
and met Larry's eyes. "No, she's not. I'm gay. Is that going to be a problem?"
Larry shook his head. "Not with me. I don't think you'll find too many people around here who
get upset. We're a pretty open-minded bunch. Besides, there are several out gay men here. I'm
sure you'll meet them soon enough." The older man gave him a wry look. "You may have to
disappoint a few women though. By now the news is all over the Institute, and all the single
women are going to want to be the one to catch the handsome young doctor."
Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Tristan laughed. "Maybe I should go into hiding for a
while, until the novelty wears off."

* * * *

A few hours later, Tristan wasn't laughing anymore. Larry had left him in the infirmary on his
own for a while to do some paperwork, telling him to call in the nurse if he needed help. At first
he'd had very little to do, but then things had picked up. Two giggling, middle-aged women had
come in asking for medical advice they obviously hadn't needed. Later, a small group of men and
women had come in to welcome him to the Institute. When they left, people continued to trickle
in, most of them wanting to meet the new doctor. He smiled and was pleasant to everyone, but the
constant interruptions were annoying. He'd never been much of a people person when he wasn't
doing his job. He was reserved, even shy, most of the time, and dealing with so many curious
people was a strain.
By the time four o'clock rolled around, he was more than ready to go. Tristan got Larry to take
over and headed back to his room. He'd been busy enough not to have much time to think about
his dinner with Cam, but walking back to his room he started to feel nervous. Although there was
a good possibility Cam was one of those people who couldn't help flirting with everyone and
really only wanted to be friends, it was also possible that he was interested in more.
If Cam was interested in him, Tristan didn't know what to do. His limited experience with dating
hadn't prepared him for a man like Cam, who exuded confidence and self-assured sexiness. He
had a feeling he would have trouble not making a fool of himself if Cam turned out to be attracted
to him.
Of course, Cam could be trying to be nice and befriend him, which would make all his agonizing
for nothing. By the time he reached his room, Tristan was thoroughly annoyed with himself.
While he showered, dressed, and brushed his teeth, he reminded himself not to read too much into
the dinner invitation. The last thing he needed was to ruin a potential friendship by thinking there
was more to it than there was.
The phone rang as he was trying to tame his unruly hair. He picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"
"Hey, Doc. Hungry?"
He was hungry all right. A picture popped into his head of Cam kissing him, holding him close.
He shivered and shook his head to dislodge the image. "Starving."
There was a tiny pause. "I've got some steaks I can broil. Would that be okay?"
Relief at not having to meet even more people loosened some of his tension. "Steak sounds great.
After today, I'm kind of glad you don't want to eat in the cafeteria."
"Sounds like you had an interesting day. You're going to have to fill me in later." He could hear
the grin in Cam's voice. "See you in about half an hour?"
"I'll be there."
Tristan hung up the phone and attacked his hair with renewed determination. Before he gave up,
he managed to get most of it not to stick up or do anything horrible. Whether it would stay that
way was debatable. He decided to get a haircut as soon as possible. He also needed some new
clothes, since he'd left most of his belongings behind when he'd come here. The meager stash of
changes of clothing from his duffle bag was almost gone. The only halfway decent things he had
to wear tonight were a pair of jeans and his favorite dark green T-shirt. He had no idea where to
do laundry here, or how to go about shopping for new clothes. Maybe he could ask about those
things tonight.
Twenty minutes after Cam's call, Tristan left his room. The walk to Cam's place wouldn't take ten
minutes, but he was tired of waiting around. Nervousness made his knock timid. Fortunately, he
didn't have to stand outside long. The door opened within a minute and Cam ushered him inside.
He followed, thinking how good the man looked in a pair of worn jeans and a white shirt.
Moments later he was sitting at the little bar in the kitchen. Cam held up a bottle. "Wine?"
Though he wasn't much of a drinker, he nodded. A drink or two might make him less nervous. Or
make him act like a complete idiot, but he'd hope for the former. He accepted the glass Cam
poured and took a small sip. "Thanks."

The other man picked up some freshly washed lettuce leaves and began to break them up. "So,
how was your first day?"
He shrugged. "It was interesting. All I got to do was inventory supplies and meet people." Cam
had gorgeous hands. Tristan couldn't help thinking about what they'd feel like on his skin.
"No medical emergencies?" Cam finished with the lettuce and began to chop a tomato.
Rather distracted watching those long, strong fingers at work, Tristan shook his head. "I did have
a few people pretend to need medical advice so they could come and quiz the new guy."
Cam laughed. "How many of those people were women?"
"Pretty much all of them," he admitted. "My last patient of the day faked a headache to come
meet me. She at least confessed she was faking, though. I didn't give her a hard time because she
was young and I could tell she felt guilty."
"Poor girl probably has a crush on you."
The teasing words and knowing tone had him blushing fiercely in seconds. He didn't reply, not
sure what to say.
Cam finished the salad and put the steaks in the broiler. With his back turned, he said, "I can't
blame her."
Certain he couldn't have heard what he thought he had, Tristan remained silent. His face felt hot,
and he knew he must be even redder.
When he'd closed the oven door partway, Cam turned back to face him, frowning. "I'm sorry if I
embarrassed you."
"You didn't. I mean. I--" he stuttered, nervousness stealing his words before he could get anything
coherent out.
The corners of Cam's lush mouth turned up in a self-deprecating smile. "Yes, I did. I have to learn
when to shut up. I usually have more of a way with words around guys I think are hot."
Tristan's mouth dropped open. "You think I'm hot?"
Now Cam blushed. Tristan was even more astonished by the sight than Cam thinking he was hot.
"With those big green eyes and that pretty mouth? Hell, yeah, I think you're hot." Cam paused. "I
probably shouldn't be saying it, though. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. I'll back off."
Tristan's red-faced embarrassment began to subside as warmth of another kind flooded into him.
"No! I mean, you're not making me uncomfortable."
An arched eyebrow told him what Cam thought of his protestations.
Tristan took a deep breath and let the truth spill out. "I'm attracted to you."
A slow, sexy grin turned Cam's face from merely handsome to breathtaking. His blue eyes
sparkled as he took the few steps necessary to bring him back across the kitchen. When only the
tiny kitchen counter separated them, he leaned forward. "You don't know how glad I am to hear
it."
Tristan was captivated by the strong desire in Cam's eyes. His own desire flared in response until
all he could think was kiss me. His lips parted in anticipation.
A long, breathless moment passed, both of them staring at each other, motionless. Then Cam
drew back. "I want to do something about it." He shivered. "God, you don't know how much. But
let's wait until after dinner, huh?"
Tristan couldn't decide whether to be annoyed, disappointed, or grateful for the reprieve. In the
end, he just laughed. "I wouldn't want those steaks to go to waste. It's lucky you had some."
Cam's sheepish look made him suspicious.
"What?"
"Well, not so lucky. I went out and bought all this stuff today, hoping you'd agree to eat in. I
didn't want to have to share you with everyone in the cafeteria. Does admitting that ruin my suave
image?"
Cam had gone out of his way to be alone with him. The admission made the whole night even
better, in Tristan's mind. "No, not at all. I think it's kind of, well, sweet, actually."

Giving an exaggerated groan, Cam went to get the steaks out. "Ugh, sweet. Come on, man.
Puppies and babies are sweet, not me."
He had to laugh again. "What I meant to say is that it was manly and strategic of you."
"You're mocking me, but that's okay. I'll make you pay for it later."
Tristan hoped so. He really, really hoped so.

Chapter 7

Cam smiled across his crappy little countertop at Tristan. Dinner was going even better than he'd
hoped. He'd been nervous as hell when he'd opened the door and seen the object of his current
obsession standing there, looking edible in jeans and a well-worn dark green T-shirt that molded
to his slimly muscled arms and chest like a second skin. He'd only just managed to restrain
himself from pouncing on the man right then and there.
Things had been fine until he'd blurted out that he thought Tristan was hot. For a minute there
he'd feared he'd ruined everything, until Tristan confessed he was attracted, too. Cam was still
riding high on the elation he'd felt right then. Fortunately, he'd managed to restrain himself from
jumping up and down like he'd wanted to. He'd served Tristan steak, salad, and a baked potato
with a very good semblance of calm, and conversed coherently while they ate.
Now, as they finished their meal, his stomach tightened with anticipation. He knew Tristan was
attracted to him. Earlier, when they'd almost kissed, Tristan had wanted it as badly as he had.
Cam would swear to that. What he wasn't sure of was what to do next. Should he press his
advantage, and make a move after dinner? Waiting wasn't in his nature. If he wanted something,
he went for it without restraint. He didn't know if going for broke now was the best approach to
take with Tristan, though. There was something almost innocent about the man.
Tired of his own circuitous thoughts, Cam told himself to stop overthinking things. He'd see
where things went after they finished eating. There was no point in thinking himself to death
before then.
When the last bite had been eaten, he cleared the dishes away and poured another glass of wine
for each of them. Feigning a casual tone, he asked, "Want to see what's on television?"
"Sure." Tristan picked up his wineglass and followed him to the living room.
His small living room was furnished with a proportionately small sofa, a coffee table, and a
television. He'd never been grateful for the size of his apartment before, but when he sat on one
end of the sofa and ended up right next to Tristan, he was. He turned on the TV and flipped
through the channels to see what was on.
"You like basketball?"
Tristan shrugged. "I've never really followed sports much, to be honest. I've moved too often to
have a home team to root for, and with my crazy work hours watching TV didn't seem worth the
effort most of the time."
Cam clicked the television off, perched the remote control on the arm of the sofa, and turned to
Tristan. "Well, we don't have to watch TV."
Those deep green eyes flared with interest. "Oh? What else could we do, then?"
He leaned forward ever so slightly. "I'm sure we could think of something."
Tristan mirrored his movement. They were now only inches apart. "I'm not sure what you mean,"
Tristan breathed. "Why don't you show me?"
The bold question inflamed Cam past all restraint. He closed the few inches between them,
pressing his lips to Tristan's. Tristan opened for him, kissing back with no hesitation. He reveled
in the feel of a strong yet supple mouth and in Tristan's tongue sliding along his own, the faint
rasp sending shivers of arousal all through him.

Wanting more contact, he pushed until Tristan was half-lying under him. Without breaking the
kiss, he slipped his hands up under Tristan's shirt, eliciting a muffled groan. Cam explored
Tristan's chest and abs slowly, concentrating on the warm, silky skin under his fingertips. The
goose bumps that rose in his wake showed him how affected Tristan was by his touch. Suddenly
he wanted more.
Pulling back, he gripped the hem of the green T-shirt. "Can I--"
Before he could get the whole question out, Tristan lifted up, allowing him to take it off. "Yes.
Please."
He didn't need to be asked twice. The shirt was off in seconds, tossed to the floor. He wanted to
stop, to admire the body he'd revealed, but he didn't have the patience. Instead, he kissed first
Tristan's mouth, then his jaw, and then his neck. Tristan gasped and arched, giving Cam free
access to his throat.
Cam peppered the soft skin with open-mouthed kisses. He lingered over the sensitive spot just
beneath the ear, and then, not even thinking, he kissed his way down to the base of Tristan's throat
and sucked gently. Tristan moaned and speared his fingers through Cam's hair, drawing him
closer.
Tristan's response made him hotter. He sucked harder, drawing a bit of skin into his mouth and
biting down.
"Cam!"
The choked gasp wasn't one of pain. Tristan liked what he was doing. Just when he thought he
couldn't get any more turned on... He slowly licked the mark he'd drawn up, tasting salt and heat,
and met Tristan's lust-glazed eyes. "I want to fuck you."
A full-body shudder betrayed Tristan's reaction before the man spoke. When he finally answered,
he said only one word. "Please."
Wasting no time, Cam stood, offering a hand up. Tristan accepted it, allowing himself to be
pulled to his feet. As Cam led the way to his bedroom, he focused on the feel of Tristan's hand,
slim--yet strong and capable--fingers laced with his own. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
held someone's hand, if he ever had, but he liked it.
Given the size of his apartment, they reached his bedroom after only a few steps. Passion flared
again at the sight of Tristan standing at the foot of his bed, so close to where he wanted him to be.
Releasing Tristan's hand, he gave him a gentle shove.
Tristan fell back onto the bed, his comical startled expression melting into a laugh. He leaned up
onto his elbows, his eyes sparkling up at Cam, his face seeming to say, What are you waiting for?
Cam drank in the picture Tristan made for a moment, shirtless, tousled, and so sexy it made him
ache. "Do you have any idea how you look, lying there on my bed?"
Tristan pretended to consider the question. "Lonely?"
Not for long. Cam wasted no time rounding the end of the bed and joining him. He kissed Tristan
again, more gently this time, running his hands over Tristan's smooth, almost hairless chest and
teasing the tiny nubs he found there. Tristan hissed and twisted, rolling them over.
Surprised by the aggressive move, Cam blinked up at Tristan. Every bit of his surprise at
suddenly being on the bottom evaporated as Tristan ground their lower bodies together.
"Oh, shit, Tristan!" He gripped Tristan's ass and arched up in response, rubbing their jeans-clad
cocks together again. The burst of pleasure he felt almost had him coming in his pants like a
teenager.
Tristan mashed his lips against Cam's with more passion than finesse. "I want you," he mumbled
into Cam's mouth, nimble fingers working on Cam's shirt buttons.
While Tristan worked on his shirt, Cam managed to unfasten the button on Tristan's jeans. He
yanked the zipper open and began pushing them down, over Tristan's ass and down his legs as far
as he could reach. Once they were out of the way, he slipped his hand into the opening in Tristan's

boxers. He gripped Tristan's cock firmly, rubbing his thumb over the head and spreading the drop
of pre-cum he found there.
He wanted to taste it.
Pulling a similar move to the one Tristan had used earlier, Cam reversed their positions. When he
had Tristan flat on his back again, he stripped off the clothing blocking his access. Like the rest of
him, Tristan's dick was beautifully made--long, smooth, and already dripping with desire.
Not wasting any time, he slid down and took that gorgeous cock into his mouth. He sucked
teasingly, licking at the tangy, spicy pre-cum each time he pulled off. His own body tightened in
response.
"Stop teasing me," Tristan groaned, trying to thrust up into his mouth.
Cam stopped the movement with one arm, laughing inwardly at the frustrated sounds he heard.
With his free hand, he reached out and rummaged in the drawer of his bedside table.
When he found the item he'd been seeking, he relented. He removed his restraining arm, allowing
Tristan to thrust. At the same time, he opened his throat, taking Tristan's cock in to the root.
"Oh, God! Feels good."
Those words, in Tristan's voice, made him desperate. He had to have him, now. Fingers fumbling,
he managed to open the cap of the lube he'd gotten from the drawer. He slicked two fingers and,
still sucking, found Tristan's opening.
So tight. He almost came just from working his fingers into the tight, hot channel, imagining what
it would feel like on his dick. Tristan made incoherent, needy sounds as Cam scissored and
twisted his fingers, feeling the muscles loosen for him.
Satisfied, he removed his fingers and mouth and moved back up Tristan's body. He was about to
slick up his cock when a thought occurred to him. "Damn. Condom." He'd been tested fairly
recently but he didn't take chances, and he was pretty sure Tristan wouldn't want to either.
Yanking the drawer open, he shoved things aside, uncaring, until his fingers closed on a foil
packet. Relief and renewed desire filled him as he tore it open, sheathed himself, and slapped on
some more lube. He lined up with Tristan's hole and pushed in, slow and steady. Tristan's body
closed around him like a fist.
It was so good he could barely think. Still, it must have been a long time since Tristan had done
this, judging by the feel. He met Tristan's eyes, managed to grit out, "Fuck, you're tight. This
okay?"
"More than okay."
Those deep green eyes remained locked with his, full of desire and emotions he couldn't name.
He couldn't look away, didn't want to, as he began to thrust. Each push took him deeper, Tristan
arching up to meet him. The pleasure built, spiraled, until all he knew was heat and friction and
the burning need to come.
Although part of him wanted it to go on forever, the other part that needed to come eventually
won out. When he couldn't take the waiting another minute, he reached down and gripped
Tristan's straining, bobbing erection. Two strokes later, hot semen gushed up over his hand.
Tristan's already tight channel squeezed him almost painfully, sending him over the edge.
With a wordless cry, he let go. Ecstasy coursed through him.
His arms were trembling when his orgasm ended. He collapsed next to Tristan on the bed,
panting.
"Wow." Tristan gave him an awed look.
Cam couldn't have said it better himself. He barely had enough energy left to get rid of the
condom, but he managed to toss it into a nearby trashcan. "Yeah." He grinned. "Wanna do it
again?"
Laughing, Tristan shook his head. "Maybe later. I think you wore me out."
He reached out and moved a wayward curl out of Tristan's face. "Later, then. You'd better hurry
up and go to sleep, before I change my mind."

Still smiling, Tristan closed his eyes. Within a few minutes he was asleep, his breathing deep and
even.
Cam watched him sleep, thinking how astonishingly beautiful he was. Watching Tristan lying
there, Cam felt something he'd never felt before. All the protectiveness, attraction, fierce desire,
and genuine liking he'd felt earlier had coalesced into something bigger. Although a tiny, self-
preserving part of him screamed for him to run while he still could, he didn't want to.
Instead, he reached out and drew his sleeping lover into his arms. Tristan snuggled into him,
unresisting. He closed his eyes and savored the warmth, and the comforting scents of soap, sex,
and Tristan.
Then, for the first time ever, he allowed himself to fall asleep with someone.

Chapter 8

Beep, beep, beep, beep!
"Damn it!"
Heart racing, Tristan opened his eyes as an arm reached across his face and slapped at something
behind him. The shrill beeping sound cut off, leaving blessed silence. Disoriented and a little
jumpy from his abrupt awakening, he blinked at the unfamiliar room around him.
Everything from the night before came flooding back as he heard Cam's voice again. "Sorry about
that. I forgot about my alarm."
Tristan turned his head and was greeted by a sheepish smile. Cam's short blond hair was crushed
on one side, and he had a small sleep-crease on his cheek. A surge of tenderness welled up in
Tristan's chest at the sight. He smiled back. "That's okay. I have to be at work this morning
anyway, and I'm sure you do, too."
"Yeah. We'd better get up." Despite his words, Cam didn't move.
"We should." Tristan nodded, not moving either.
"Maybe in just a minute."
Then Cam's mouth was on his, and his hands were stroking the warm, naked skin of Cam's back.
Getting up was suddenly the farthest thing from his mind, especially when a hard cock touched
his thigh, drawing his attention to his own morning erection. He twisted his lower body until their
cocks rubbed together.
"Oh, fuck," Cam whispered into his mouth, grinding against him.
It was hot, and quick, and just what he needed. He grabbed Cam's ass and pushed back, creating
more friction. They rubbed against each other with ragged, desperate movements for a few
minutes, and then Cam stiffened.
Hot fluid gushed between them, coating their stomachs and easing the way for Tristan's last
couple of thrusts. Closing his eyes, he came, too. They both fell back, breathing hard.
After a couple of minutes, Cam spoke. "Damn, Doc. You sure know how to wake a guy up."
He gave Cam a deadpan stare. "Just one of the things they taught us in medical school."
At first the only response he got was a startled look, but then Cam laughed. "And here I thought
you were shy."
He seemed to have lost a lot of his shyness, at least around Cam. It was hard to feel shy around
the man you'd rubbed off on a few minutes ago. Apparently not impossible, however, because he
could feel his face heating as he thought about what they'd done.
"Up and at 'em," Cam ordered, smacking his ass.
An involuntary yelp escaped, and he slid out of the bed. The first thing he did was grab a tissue to
wipe off his stomach. Then he started looking for his clothes. His jeans and boxers were on the
floor beside the bed. His socks and shoes were harder to find, but he finally found them scattered

near and under the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on the clothing he'd found, a quick
glance at the clock telling him he'd better hurry up if he wanted to have time to stop off at his
place to shower and change.
When he stood, something important was still missing. He looked around, not seeing it anywhere.
Cam had gone into the bathroom, so he called, "Shirt?"
"Living room," Cam yelled back.
The green T-shirt was lying crumpled by the sofa. He picked the badly wrinkled garment up and
yanked it over his head. Checking his pockets, he found his room key. He had everything he
needed. Although he felt a sudden pang at the idea of leaving, there wasn't any reason to linger.
They both had things to do today, and he was a big boy. He'd only had one other one-night stand,
but he knew the drill. He wouldn't get all emotional or hang around past his welcome.
Tristan was about to head out the door when Cam emerged from the other room, damp from a fast
shower, a white towel slung around his waist. "You weren't going to sneak off without saying
goodbye to me, were you?"
Even though he'd been planning to do just that, he shook his head.
"Good." Cam crossed the distance separating them and wound his arms around Tristan's neck,
drawing him in for a deep kiss. Tristan was dazed and breathless when Cam drew back, a satisfied
smile on his face. "There. Now you can go."

* * * *

Tristan still felt dazed and breathless when he got to the infirmary. He'd barely had time to rush
back to his room, take a five-minute shower, and throw on some clothes before he had to leave.
After his shower, he'd been startled and surprisingly aroused to see the small, dark mark Cam had
sucked up at the base of his throat. He'd been thankful the hickey was low enough he could cover
it with a collared shirt, yet at the same time he'd almost wanted people to see. Weird.
The entire time he'd been rushing around, he'd thought of last night, and this morning. Cam had
made him feel things he'd never felt with anyone else. In the past, he'd always been cautious about
sex, preferring to get to know his partners first. With Cam, he'd been so caught up in desire he
hadn't paused to think about anything else.
Despite the uncharacteristic way he'd acted, he didn't regret a thing. Feeling so much desire and
pleasure, feeling so alive, had been worth it. Cam's behavior this morning had confused him,
though. The man hadn't said anything about them seeing each other again, leading him to assume
last night had been a one-time thing, but the goodbye kiss left him unsure. Why would a one-
night stand need to end with a kiss like that? Wouldn't Cam have let him leave like he'd planned?
"Are you all right?"
He jumped at the voice. Larry's concerned gaze was fixed on his face. He pasted on a smile. "I'm
fine."
"Are you sure? You seem kind of preoccupied this morning."
Either Larry was perceptive, or Tristan was transparent. He sighed. "I was thinking about
something. No big deal."
Larry looked unconvinced, but to Tristan's relief he let the subject drop. A woman carrying a
small child came in then, and both their attention was focused on her.
The woman was the first of a steady stream of patients. Fortunately they were almost all real
patients, not people who were faking something to come stare at the new guy. A couple had come
in for routine physicals or for the physical testing required to try to join the field team. Tristan
was fascinated by the abilities they displayed. One young woman had incredible vision, both day
and night. A man who was already a member of the field team and needed to have a nearly-healed
injury checked had an amazing affinity for computers and other technology, far beyond that of
hackers or programmers. Not being terribly skilled with computers himself, Tristan found his
ability hard to understand. Still, he listened and nodded at stories of encryptions the man had
broken and files he'd spirited out of the wrong hands.

Near the end of the day, Claudia came in. Once again she was at her most businesslike, wearing a
severe navy suit with her hair in a tight bun. She smiled when she spotted him. "Hello, Tristan. I
came to see how you're enjoying your work."
"It's very interesting, although not as fast-paced as working in an emergency room." Or quite as
rewarding as helping a crippled little girl walk again.
Claudia gave him an understanding look. "We don't have many medical emergencies here,
fortunately, so you might not get to use your abilities as much as you'd like. I hope you won't be
bored."
He considered. Bored wasn't a good description for how he felt. "I'm not bored, exactly. It's an
adjustment. Not having to look over my shoulder and run all the time will take some getting used
to."
"I'm sure it will." She paused. "Have you considered testing for the field team?"
"Not really. I don't know if I could be any help... " He trailed off, not sure what else to say.
"You should think about it. I believe you'd be a great asset to the team. You could use your
abilities more, and you'd rarely be bored."
Tristan didn't think he'd be testing for the field team anytime soon. There wasn't any harm in
agreeing to think about it, however. He nodded. "All right. I'll think about it."
Seeming content with his promise to consider her idea, Claudia said goodbye and left the
infirmary. Tristan left a few minutes later, having checked in with Larry and finished his end-of-
the-day tasks.
Back in his room, he felt restless. He tried watching television or surfing the Internet on his
laptop, which he was grateful had been in the duffle bag Cam had rescued, but neither activity
held his interest. His mind kept going back to the night before. His slacks became uncomfortably
tight as he remembered the way Cam had sucked him like he was some delicious treat.
"Stop it!" Angry at himself, he stood. He wasn't going to sit around getting all hot and bothered.
He would find something else to do instead. His eyes settled on the pile of dirty clothes in the
corner of the room. "I'll eat dinner, and then I'll do laundry." This place had to have some sort of
laundry facilities.
Pleased with his plan, Tristan gathered up his clothes and put them into a mesh laundry bag he'd
found in the closet. Then he put the bag by the door and headed for the cafeteria.
After a stressful dinner spent surrounded by well-meaning people who wanted to get to know the
new guy, he went back to his place to get the bag of laundry. Unsure which way to go, he headed
in the opposite direction of the cafeteria.
A few minutes later, he ran into a young man he'd already met. "Telly, right?"
"Yep, that's me. Going to dinner, Doc?"
He shook his head. "Just finished." He indicated his bag. "I was hoping to be able to do some
laundry."
Telly grinned. "You've got one hell of an action-packed night planned."
Having had more than enough action last night, Tristan only shrugged. "I've got to do laundry
sometime."
"True enough."
This was his chance to find out where the laundry room was. Tristan felt dumb, but asked, "Can
you tell me where the laundry room is?"
Telly's grin widened. "I can do you one better. I'll show you where it is."
"Thanks."
As they walked, Telly glanced over at him. "Since you don't have any plans, would you like to
hang out with me and a couple of friends in the rec room?"
Spending the rest of the night doing laundry, and then going home, didn't appeal. Plus, Tristan
wanted to make friends. Hopefully spending time with a small group would be less stressful than
the huge group at the cafeteria earlier. "That sounds great."

"We're going over to Cellblock A. That's what we call the wing with all the training stuff." Telly
turned off at a fork Tristan hadn't traveled before.
Tristan hefted his bag of laundry and followed him. He tried to memorize the meandering path
they took, but soon had no idea where they were. He laughed. "I'm going to need a GPS to
navigate this place. I'm so lost right now."
Telly chuckled. "You get used to it."
By that time they'd reached rec room. It was a long, rectangular space with several clusters of
tables. Several of the tables were taken up by people talking or playing card games. At each end,
furniture was arranged around a television.
Telly indicated two guys sitting on a sofa in the far corner of the room. "Those are my friends."
When they reached the sofa, which Tristan noticed faced a huge television that was playing
ESPN, Telly pointed to the taller, dark-haired guy dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "This is Dean.
He's a researcher." Indicating the other man, whose reddish-brown hair was shorter and who wore
khakis and a polo shirt, he said, "And this is Ned. He teaches the older kids." To them, he added,
"Guys, this is Tristan."
Tristan offered them a smile and a handshake. "Nice to meet you."
Dean's handshake was firm but not crushing. He raised an eyebrow. "You're the new doctor the
ladies are all abuzz over, aren't you?"
At Tristan's blush, Dean and Ned both laughed. Ned shook Tristan's hand as well. "Don't worry,
they'll get over it. Eventually."
"Have a seat, Tristan." Telly vaulted the sofa and plopped down on another one that was arranged
next to it.
Tristan moved to an armchair on the other side of the sofa. He set his bag of laundry on the floor
and listened to their conversation. Much of their discussion revolved around Telly's unsuccessful
attempts to get a woman to notice him. His friends all offered advice on what he should do. Not
really feeling qualified to help, Tristan said nothing.
The sound of a familiar voice drew his attention away from Telly's dilemma. Cam. Already he
would know the man's voice anywhere. Any thoughts of playing it cool flew out the window, and
he turned his gaze toward the sound.
Cam was sitting at a table halfway across the room, accompanied by Dixon, Spoons, and a few
other people from the field team. He was laughing at something. He looked happy and sexy and
unconcerned. Tristan felt an uncomfortable combination of longing and anger, both at himself and
Cam.
"What do you think, Doc?"
He jerked his attention back to his side of the room. Telly and the others were eyeing him
expectantly. "I'm sorry, what?"
"What do you think I should do about Tara?"
Oh, yeah. The girl Telly wanted to impress. "Uh, I don't think I'm the best person to ask about
that."
Telly looked over at Cam's table, and Tristan couldn't help following suit. His eyes just couldn't
stay away. Smiling slightly, Telly glanced back at him, his Southern drawl stronger than ever. "I
guess not."
Heat crept up his face and neck. Although he was embarrassed and nervous, he held his ground.
All three guys had probably guessed he was gay, but none of them appeared to be disgusted or
uncomfortable. Maybe things really would be different here. With a smile and a helpless shrug, he
offered, "Have you tried flowers? I don't know much about getting anyone's attention, or keeping
it."
The researcher, Dean, grinned and leaned in toward all of them, speaking in a loud stage-whisper.
"I don't know about that, Doc. A certain field team member is staring over here right now, and I
don't think he's looking at me."

Tristan wanted to look. He didn't want Cam to see him looking, however, so he restrained
himself. "Really?"
Ned, the teacher, slanted a glance toward Cam's table. "Definitely, man. Oh, wait, now he's
pretending he wasn't. Weak."
Snickering, Telly darted a glance toward Cam's group. "Give me a break. Like we didn't see him
staring!" Turning to Tristan, he arched an eyebrow. "What's up with you two, anyway?"
The heat in his cheeks told him he was blushing for about the millionth time since he'd come to
the Institute. Still, he tried to play dumb. "Nothing."
Dean's cackle drew the attention of several people in another nearby group. "Nothing? Not with
the look he was giving you."
Thoroughly embarrassed now, he covered his burning face with his hands. All three men started
talking at once.
"Aw, we embarrassed him."
"He's shy."
"Now we know they have something going on!"
"Sorry, Doc." Telly, who had come to stand beside him, patted his shoulder, voice apologetic.
"We get kind of nosy sometimes."
He took a deep breath, tried to will away his blush, and raised his head. "That's okay. I'm not used
to having anyone I can talk to."
The admission made him feel stupid until Dean grinned and punched him in the arm. "You can
talk to us. We'll give you a hard time about anything you tell us, but that means we care."
He had to laugh. "You're not inspiring a lot of confidence here, Dean."
Ned waggled his eyebrows. "Come on, spill."
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" In Tristan's experience, straight men didn't want to talk
about the love lives of their gay counterparts.
"You don't have to tell us everything," Telly put in.
He couldn't help smiling. It was good to be around people who would accept him. "Okay, I'll
spare you the details. There isn't much to tell anyway."
"You've been here, what, four days? There can't be much to tell."
Dean hooted. "Shows what you know, Ned."
Giving them a mock-stern glare, Telly laid down the law. "Children. Tristan's trying to talk."
"Sorry," the two men chorused, their expressions anything but.
Tristan tried not to burst out laughing again. With effort, he managed to keep a straight face. After
a couple of seconds he brought his mind back to the discussion at hand, which banished any
desire to laugh. "Like I said, there isn't much to tell. When I first got here, he took me on the tour.
We spent a lot of time together the first couple of days I was here. Last night he invited me over
for dinner." He broke off, not sure how much he wanted to tell them. In spite of the uncertainty he
felt today, last night had been incredible. Talking about it seemed wrong somehow.
"Oh, dude. You didn't." Dean gave him a look that was half sympathy, half reproach.
He shrugged, unable to deny the truth. "I did."
"I'm guessing y'all haven't done much talking since then."
Telly's observation summed up the entire situation. Tristan sighed. "You'd be right. I don't know
what to say. I mean, we hardly know each other. I'm not going to follow him around like a
puppy."
"Damn straight! He knows how to find you. Make him come to you." Dean nodded sagely as he
spoke.
"What do you know? You never let women come to you," Ned muttered, sotto voce.
Tristan snickered, a bit of his earlier good humor returning. Dean turned on Ned, ready with a
snappy comeback, and they were off. Everyone's attention drifted away from Tristan and Cam,
much to Tristan's relief.

A few minutes later, whatever game they'd been pretending to watch ended. Ned sighed and said
he had an early morning the next day. Dean said he had to go, too, and they left together, still
bickering about something.
Telly rolled his eyes at their departing backs and turned to Tristan. "Ready for your exciting
evening of laundry?"

Chapter 9

Cam gritted his teeth as he watched Telly and Tristan leave the rec room. So much for going out
with his friends and forgetting about the sexy doctor--and his own unsettled thoughts--for a while.
Instead of a fun night of not thinking, he'd spent the better part of an hour wishing he was across
the room with Tristan rather than here with his buddies from the team. He sighed and pinched the
bridge of his nose.
Waking up next to Tristan had been surprisingly comfortable, despite being awakened by the
shriek of his alarm well before he was ready to get up. It had been even better when Tristan
initiated their little rub-off session. There was nothing better than getting off first thing in the
morning, not that Cam got to experience it much with his love 'em and leave 'em style. What to do
after the sex had been kind of awkward, though. He really, really wanted to see Tristan again.
More than he thought he should. When he'd tried to tell him, though, the words had stuck in his
throat. He'd run off to shower instead. In the shower, he'd freaked over the idea of Tristan leaving
rather than being relieved, so he'd rushed out to kiss him goodbye.
All in all, his behavior had been uncharacteristic and indecisive. Throughout the workday, while
he was prepping for a mission they were supposed to be leaving for tomorrow, he kept thinking
about Tristan. His thoughts ran the gamut from X-rated, to warm and fuzzy, to angry. The plan
had been to sleep with Tristan and get the man out of his system, not think about him even more.
His plan hadn't worked, because he couldn't concentrate on anything else, including the briefing
for their mission.
Spoons's invitation to come out tonight had seemed like the perfect distraction, until Tristan
showed up with Telly. Even then Cam could have salvaged his night, if he hadn't spent the whole
time staring at Tristan like a lovesick moron and pretending he wasn't every time Telly and his
friends caught him. Could he be any more pathetic?
"What's wrong with you?" Dix whispered.
Cam wanted to ask himself the same question, not that he would admit it to Dix. He muttered,
"Nothing."
"You're not still mad about yesterday, are you? I said I was sorry."
The reminder of her crack about the new doctor liking him better as a woman made him smirk.
Tristan had definitely preferred him as a man. "No, I'm not mad. Quit worrying about it."
"Uh huh." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You could go talk to him, you know."
Cam jerked in surprise at the sound of Dixon's voice right by his ear. "Jesus, Dix. You scared the
hell out of me."
Rolling her eyes, she moved away about an inch. She kept her voice low. "Are you going to go
talk to the doctor, or just stare at him like he's a chocolate donut and you're on a diet?"
Scowling, he looked away from her and Tristan. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She laughed quietly. "Oh, come on. You've been crushing on that man since you brought him in.
You warned me off the first day. Does this mean he's fair game now?"
"No," he growled before he caught himself. "Besides, he already left."
"You noticed that, huh?" Her triumphant smile told him he was busted. "So, are you going to tell
me what's going on with you two, or am I going to have to go ask him?"

The thought of her interrogating Tristan about what had happened between them made him
cringe. His shy little doctor would probably never speak to him again if he let that happen. "Leave
him alone."
Her eyebrows went up. "Wow. You're serious. You really like this guy."
Scowl deepening, he glared down at the table. He wasn't about to talk to her about his feelings.
"What can I say? He's really hot."
She actually bounced in her chair. "He's the reason you ditched us for dinner last night, isn't he?"
"So what if he is?"
"You slept with him, didn't you? To think I thought he was shy!"
Her voice had risen. No one seemed to have noticed their conversation yet, but they would if she
didn't shut up. He whirled on her, still glaring. "Lower your voice. Everyone at the table doesn't
need to hear this."
Astonished, she gaped at him. "Since when? You've never had a problem talking about your
numerous conquests before. Now all of a sudden mum's the word?"
That stopped him cold. Was he usually as much of an asshole as she made him sound? He
grimaced. Apparently so. Still, Cam wasn't about to have everyone talking about Tristan behind
his back. Maybe if he told Dixon what she wanted to know, she'd get off his case. Hell, maybe
she could even give him some advice. She wasn't Dear Abby by any stretch of the imagination,
but she was better at relationships than he was.
Leaning toward her, he gave her his most serious look. "All right, I'll tell you what's going on.
You say a word to anyone, though, one word, I'll tell everyone about the huge crush you've
always had on Spoons."
She blanched. "You wouldn't."
"I would." He leaned back in his seat, feigning a casualness he didn't really feel. "Deal?"
"This is blackmail, you know."
Cam shrugged. "Do you want to hear, or don't you?"
"Dammit, yes!"
Ignoring her ridiculous, exaggerated glower, he moved his chair closer to hers. He kept his voice
low. "Last night, I invited Tristan over for dinner."
When he hesitated, she elbowed him in the side. "Duh. Then what?"
For some reason, Cam felt reluctant to reveal intimate details of what had happened between
himself and Tristan. Normally he'd give anyone who asked a play-by-play rundown, yet this time
he wanted to keep things between them private. He had to tell her something, however.
"We slept together," he finished.
She gave him a puzzled frown. "Okay. So why have you spent the last hour staring at him then,
instead of actually being with him? Was it terrible or something?"
"No." It was wonderful, that's why. He couldn't tell her that. "We don't have to spend every
second together."
"Um, I don't know if you've forgotten this, but we're leaving tomorrow for several days, could be
up to a week. You won't be spending any time together at all, unless you get your ass in gear."
He sighed, frustrated. "I know, I know. I thought it would look bad if I called this soon. I mean,
we saw each other this morning."
Dix's eyebrows shot up so high they almost disappeared into her hairline. "This morning? You
spent the entire night together?"
"I fell asleep." Dixon, of all people, would understand what that meant. Despite their constant
attempts to annoy each other, she was his closest confidante, and she knew he didn't have sex
with anyone more than once or twice, and he never spent the night.
"You like him." Her eyes went all misty.
His defenses flew up at the implications of her statement. "Jesus, don't be such a girl. So what if I
like him? It's not a big deal."

"It's huge, but that's beside the point. What are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know! I'm not sure I want to do anything at all."
She balled up her fist and punched him in the stomach, hard. "You dumbass! You've finally found
a guy you like and now you're going to let him get away? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ouch. Dixon definitely had a redhead's temper. Especially when she was right, and he knew she
was. Admitting it wasn't easy, though. The idea of starting something more than just a fuck-buddy
type setup with Tristan scared him. If he brought up the idea of a "friends with benefits" scenario,
however, he had a feeling Tristan would tell him to get lost, so that was out. Unfortunately, letting
him go didn't set well either. For the first time in years, Cam found himself paralyzed by
indecision.
"I don't know what to do."
He didn't even realize he'd spoken out loud until Dix took his hand. Her hazel eyes were more
serious, and sympathetic, than he'd ever seen them. "You only have to ask yourself one question.
Is he worth taking a chance over?"
His mind replayed Tristan's responsiveness, and the way he'd cuddled into Cam's embrace while
they slept. The answer was a no-brainer. "Yes."
She smiled at him as if he'd passed some big, important test he hadn't even been aware of taking.
"Then go talk to him."
"I will." He stood, ready to find Tristan and make his case.

* * * *

It was almost ten before he managed to track Tristan down. He'd tried the doctor's apartment, but
no one answered his knock. He'd finally been reduced to finding Telly, who'd given him a hard
time before suggesting he try the laundry room. Judging from Telly's behavior, Tristan wasn't too
happy with him right now. Cam couldn't blame him, though. He'd made a big deal out of ignoring
Tristan in the rec room, which was a pretty huge snub after what had happened between them. He
promised himself he'd make up for his behavior--if he ever found Tristan.
When he approached the laundry room, he could hear the sound of clothing tumbling in the dryer.
Relieved, he went in. Tristan sat in one of the chairs in the corner, reading a book. Cam paused to
take in the sight. Tristan rested his chin in one hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. His hair
was even more tousled than usual, as if he'd been running his fingers through it. He looked
wonderful.
Although he would have almost preferred to stand there silent, or run away, Cam knew he would
regret either action. Trying to ignore the butterflies attempting to beat their way out of his
stomach, he stepped closer. "Hey."
Tristan swiveled in his chair, his expression neutral. "Hey."
He licked his suddenly dry lips and tried a smile. "I've been looking for you."
"Really?" The one word conveyed a wealth of emotion--disbelief, along with irritation and
perhaps a bit of hope.
"Yeah, really." He closed some of the distance between them as he continued. "I don't know if I
told you this, but I have a tendency to be an insensitive dumbass. I'm working on it, though."
Tristan laughed, his green eyes surprised and amused. "I hope you realize you're ruining a
perfectly good sulk."
Giving his best innocent look, Cam sat in the chair closest to Tristan's. "What can I say?
Insensitive dumbasses do that sort of thing."
"If you're an insensitive dumbass, I guess I must be an oversensitive smartass. I might have been
pouting a little."
"You might have had reason to. I'm sorry for acting like a jerk. This is kind of freaking me out."
The admission slipped out before he could stop it. Being around Tristan seemed to play hell with
his control.
Brows drawn together in thought, Tristan gazed at him. "What's freaking you out?"

What wasn't freaking him out would be a better question. Even now, when his brain was trying to
figure out a way to minimize this thing between them, his heart wanted to reach out and pull
Tristan into his arms. Meeting those beautiful eyes, he whispered, "The way I feel about you."

Chapter 10

Tristan's annoyance at Cam fled at his whispered words. Although he'd intended to play it cool
the next time he saw Cam, he couldn't keep up the façade in the face of such vulnerable words.
He even understood the sentiment. The attraction between them freaked him out a little, too,
though he wouldn't have used those specific words to describe his feelings. Maybe what they'd
shared hadn't been a one-night stand after all.
He dared to ask. "How do you feel about me?"
Cam reached over and took his hand, cradling it gently in both of his. "I want you. I like you. A
lot."
Not exactly a declaration of undying love, but more than he'd expected. Even though he couldn't
read Cam's emotions, Tristan could tell how hard the words had been for him to say. He smiled.
"I like you, too."
"But do you want me?" Cam grinned, more confident now.
He echoed Cam's earlier words. "A lot."
Blue eyes kindling with desire, Cam raised one of Tristan's hands to his mouth and pressed a
moist kiss to the palm. He didn't have to say anything to make his intentions clear.
Tristan knew he ought to pull his hand away and insist they talk or something, but he couldn't.
Cam was kissing his wrist, then the underside of his forearm, and any thought of resistance flew
out of his head. All he could do was whimper as Cam licked the inside of his elbow, which had
never been an erogenous zone before.
Cam reeled him in until they were only inches apart, and then bridged the distance with a kiss.
Tristan parted his lips, welcoming Cam's tongue in like a long-lost friend. He moaned at the slick
rasp of a tongue against the sensitive inner tissues of his mouth. The taste of mint and man had
him moaning again.
Cam threaded a hand through his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. The arousal that rushed
through him at the simple touch of Cam's hand on his scalp surprised him. Suddenly he wanted
nothing more than to feel that hand on other, more intimate places.
Apparently Cam's mind was on a similar track, because he broke the kiss and stared at Tristan, his
breathing heavy. "I want to fuck you."
He shivered under the intent, predatory blue gaze. Although a little voice in his head told him this
wasn't the best idea, it was too much, too fast, the flood of desire Cam's words let loose inside
him drowned out everything else.
Without making a conscious decision, Tristan found himself in Cam's arms, standing next to the
chair he'd been seated in seconds before. Cam's kiss was wild, almost desperate, infusing him
with the same sense of urgency. Need and want and now dominated his thoughts.
Then Cam's hands were at Tristan's waist, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking the zipper down.
Moments later he was bent over a dryer, his hands white-knuckled from gripping the chipped,
white surface, jeans caught around his knees. Pleasure/pain speared him as Cam pressed two spit-
lubed fingers deep, working him open. He rocked back into Cam's hand, wanting more.
Instead of giving him what he wanted, Cam pulled his fingers out. Tristan whimpered in
disappointment. After a tearing sound and a small pause, the head of Cam's thick, hard cock
bumped against him.

Gripping his hips in grasp almost hard enough to bruise, Cam lined up and began to push. Despite
the lubricated condom Cam had donned, Tristan felt the burning stretch of not enough preparation
or lube. Tears sprang to his eyes, yet his erection didn't deflate. If anything, his cock got harder. A
choked gasp escaped him as Cam pulled partway out and thrust back in, pegging a spot inside that
had him seeing stars. The pain suddenly took on a new facet. The friction eased a bit with each
thrust, and every few times the head of Cam's erection passed over his prostate.
The conflicting sensations only heightened the pleasure. Greedy for more, Tristan shoved back
toward Cam. "Cam, please. Harder." His own voice, and the word he'd spoken, shocked even
him. A part of him couldn't believe he was acting this way, saying such things.
Cam apparently had no such reservations. He began to pound Tristan, merciless. Tristan clung to
the dryer, trying not to cry out.
He was lost in a haze of arousal that was just this side of pain when Cam spoke, his voice low.
"Someone could come in here, right now, and see you bent over this dryer with your clothes half-
off. Hear you begging for it. Would you like it, knowing someone was watching?"
Rather than horrifying him, the image of someone watching Cam take him over a dryer made him
hotter. Images swirled through his head. Discovery hadn't crossed his mind before Cam wove his
scenario, but now he couldn't get rid of the thought. He bit off a cry before the sound could get
out.
Cam leaned over his back, lips brushing his ear. "So quiet. You wouldn't want anyone to hear."
He punctuated his words with a powerful thrust.
Tristan lost it. The sensation that poured through him was too intense to be mere pleasure. Ropes
of white painted the front of the dryer as he came with a loud, broken cry.
Holding onto him tightly, Cam managed a few more stuttering thrusts before he came as well.
They both stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, their breathing harsh and erratic. Then
Cam pulled out, slow and careful, and went into the laundry room's small bathroom.
Tristan folded his arms on the dryer and let his head fall onto them. Although his body still
hummed with the aftershocks of an incredible orgasm, his mind was already beginning to wonder
what the hell he'd just done. For the second time in as many nights, he'd had sex with a man he
hardly knew. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten they were in a place where people could walk in
anytime. He hadn't cared about anything, other than being with Cam. To make things worse, they
hadn't really talked about anything before tearing each other's pants off. What did that say about
him? He shivered against a growing inner coldness.
"You cold?" A gentle hand pulled his shirt down to cover his exposed lower back.
Head still down, he rolled it along his arms in a "no" motion, not sure what to say.
"Come on, Tris. Let's get you up." Cam took hold of his shoulders and drew him up. When he
stood upright, Cam righted his clothing and cleaned off the front of the dryer with a few tissues.
Next, Cam gathered Tristan's clothes from the dryer next to the one they'd just christened. He
folded them and put them into the mesh laundry bag Tristan had found earlier. Then he picked the
bag up and met Tristan's eyes, his expression both expectant and somehow vulnerable.
A thread of warmth worked its way into the tight knot of confusion Tristan felt. He offered a
slight smile. Cam's face lit as if Tristan had given him the world, and Tristan's worry loosened a
bit more.
"You don't need to carry my laundry for me."
"I know. I want to. If you don't mind." Cam's eyes still held a hopeful look Tristan wasn't sure he
understood.
He decided not to question. "I don't mind."

* * * *

A few minutes later, they reached Tristan's room. Cam seemed nervous as they approached the
door. Tristan wished he could read Cam, so he could understand what the other man was feeling.
Even his own emotions were confusing him right now, unfortunately.

Seconds passed like an eternity as they stood in front of his door, silent and awkward. He thought
about last night's easy conclusion, falling asleep next to Cam. He wanted that again. "Do you
want to come in?"
Cam gave him a solemn nod. "Yeah, I do."
He unlocked the door and held it open while Cam carried the bag of clothes in. "You can set the
laundry on the floor." The incredible amount of nervousness he could feel around a man who'd
been inside him not long ago surprised him. To try to cover his unease, he said the first thing that
came to him. "Would you like something to drink?"
Cam laughed softly. "No, thanks." He gave Tristan a crooked grin. "I freaked us out again, didn't
I? Sorry I came on so strong earlier."
"I am a little freaked out," Tristan admitted, which was the understatement of the century. "It's
just, well, I don't do things like that. Ever. I don't know how to act around you now."
"Act like you. I like you."
The simple honesty of Cam's words made him smile, reassured. "I like you, too."
"Then everything's perfect." They stood there grinning at each other like idiots for a long
moment, and then Cam sobered. "I didn't come looking for you for sex earlier. Don't get me
wrong, it was great, but I actually had something else in mind."
"What?"
"I thought we'd try something new. It's this thing people do sometimes called 'talking.' I don't
have much experience at it, but I thought it sounded like fun." The shy expression on Cam's face
told him the man wasn't being sarcastic.
"Talking, huh? I think we ought to try it." Tristan went over to the tiny sofa and sat.
Cam followed, taking the other end. After clearing his throat nervously, he asked, "So, how'd it
go at the infirmary today?"
Biting back a laugh at the clichéd question--and Cam's earnest expression--he answered. "I had a
good day. We finally got some real patients. A couple of yearly physicals, and some minor
issues."
"That's good. No more fakers coming to check you out?"
"Not today." He paused for a moment, searching for something they could talk about. "I know
you're on the field team, but I just realized I don't really know what you do."
On a comfortable topic now, Cam leaned back, seeming more relaxed. "Most of the time we do a
lot of training. We work with weapons and hand-to-hand fighting, as well as technology. We also
practice using our abilities."
This was the most Cam had talked about himself since they'd met, and Tristan found himself
fascinated. "What do you do to practice your abilities?"
Cam shrugged. "There are several different exercises I do. Sometimes I have a partner and they
show me random pictures of people. I have to try to shift into the picture image quickly. Other
times, I have to try to mimic a real person, and team members critique how well I do. That kind of
stuff."
"Wow. I still can't wrap my brain around how you can shapeshift like you do."
His awe seemed to amuse Cam. "And I can't wrap my brain around how Spoons can move things
with his mind, or how you can heal people by touching them. My talent isn't any more amazing
than anyone else's, really. It just looks cooler, I guess."
Cam's shapeshifting definitely looked cool. Tristan thought back to the day they'd met, when he'd
seen Cam as a doctor, an old man, and himself. He hadn't seen the man shift since, though. He
didn't know whether to be disappointed or glad about that. It was disconcerting to see a person
turn into someone else right in front of you.
"Do you have to shift a lot when you go out on missions, or whatever you call it?"
"If I'm in the field, I'm almost always shifted. That way there's at least one member of the team no
one can identify." Cam shrugged again, as if to say it was no big deal to him.

Having spent years hiding and changing his identity constantly and hating it, Tristan wondered if
Cam got tired of shifting all the time. Maybe it didn't bother Cam because he did his identity
switches by choice? Tristan wanted to ask, but he didn't. The question seemed too personal for
such a short acquaintance. An instant later, he considered his own thoughts and almost laughed
aloud. He hadn't batted an eyelash at sex in the laundry room, but a question was too personal?
He pushed aside his conflicting thoughts when Cam spoke again.
"Going out in the field is part of what I wanted to talk to you about."
Puzzled, Tristan considered his words. He might have thought Cam wanted to talk to him about
joining the field team, if the tone had been different. "What do you mean?"
"I'm leaving with a team tomorrow morning, early. We're going to be gone at least a few days. I
came looking for you earlier to tell you I'd really like to see you again after I get back." He turned
sweet, hopeful blue eyes on Tristan. When Tristan didn't reply right away, he kept talking. "I'm
not asking for more sex. Or at least, not only sex." He broke off, floundering.
Apparently the other man wasn't quite as confident as he'd always seemed. Tristan reached over
and laid a finger over Cam's lips, silencing him. "I'd like to see you again, too."
Cam caught his hand and held it. "I'm glad."
Tristan was, too. Sitting there, holding Cam's hand, he felt as if all was right with the world.
Then Cam looked up at the clock. "It's getting late. I guess I'd better go."
"You don't have to." The words spilled out of their own accord. After they were out, though, he
didn't want to take them back.
"I don't want to."
The hesitant smile Cam gave him made his decision easy. "Then don't. Stay."
"Okay. I'll need to wake up at four-thirty to have time to grab my gear before I leave."
He nodded, and simple as that, Cam was staying. They took turns in the bathroom, Cam using one
of the selection of wrapped toothbrushes Tristan had found in the medicine cabinet his first night
in his new, slightly bigger apartment. Afterward, they stripped off their shirts and jeans in silence
and climbed into Tristan's bed.
By unspoken agreement, there was no attempt at sex. Instead, Cam curled up behind Tristan,
spoon-style, draping an arm over his waist. Tristan had expected to have trouble sleeping, either
from thinking about the situation between them or because he wasn't used to having someone in
his bed. Instead, the comforting warmth of Cam's body and the steady beat of a heart against his
back proved to be soothing. He was asleep in minutes.

* * * *

Music and movement woke him. The music cut off almost immediately, but the movement
continued. Opening his bleary eyes, he saw Cam sitting on the edge of the bed in only his jeans,
pulling on his socks.
He reached out to stroke Cam's still-naked back. "Hey."
Cam turned, a warm smile on his face. "Hey, yourself. I tried not to wake you."
Despite his gritty eyes and exhaustion, he was happy to be awake. That smile was worth it. "It's
okay. I'm glad I got to see you before you left." Could he be any more sappy?
"I'm glad, too." Cam leaned down and kissed him gently, lips lingering for a long moment. "I'll
see you when I get back."
"I'll be here." He watched Cam put on his shoes and shirt and leave the room. Then Tristan
snuggled into the now-vacant pillow that still smelled like Cam and went back to sleep.

Chapter 11

Six days had passed since Cam left. The shapeshifter had been gone longer than they'd known
each other before he left, yet Tristan missed him more every day. His brain told him missing
someone he barely knew was ridiculous. His heart didn't listen. Neither, unfortunately, did his
body.
For the first day or so after Cam left, he'd felt little twinges when he moved or sat, reminding him
of the laundry room. He had reason to curse his pale skin and easy blushes many times during that
first day, because he'd felt his face heating every time he remembered Cam bending him over the
dryer. Larry had asked him if he was okay several times.
The midnight phone call he'd shared with Cam a few nights after Cam left had given both of them
a bit of relief. Tristan had never had phone sex before, but for some reason that night he'd all but
instigated it. He still breathed a little faster every time he thought about the things he'd said and
done. As much as the behavior was uncharacteristic, phone sex with Cam had made Tristan feel
closer to the other man. He couldn't regret that. Besides, he'd felt fantastic throughout the
following day.
A couple of days later, he'd gotten a hurried, five-minute call. Since then he'd heard nothing, but
he wasn't surprised. From what little Cam had told him, the mission had grown more and more
complicated.
Tristan was on the way to his apartment after work when his cell phone rang. The number on the
display wasn't familiar. He flipped it open anyway. "Hello?"
"Doc, it's Telly. I don't know exactly what's up, but something's gone wrong on the mission.
They'll need you in the infirmary."
Fear seized him. He clutched the phone with numb fingers. "Cam?"
"I don't think so. I couldn't see very clearly. I think there's something wrong with the guy they
went to bring back."
Thank God. Tristan relaxed a little. If Telly didn't think Cam was hurt, he would believe him. "I'm
heading there right now."
Snapping the phone closed, he turned and strode toward the infirmary. Due to his quick pace, he
was there in only a couple of minutes.
Larry looked up with surprise when he rushed in. "Tristan? What's wrong?"
"Telly called me. The field team's on the way in with some kind of medical issue."
The telephone on Larry's desk rang. The doctor snatched up the handset. "Dr. Roget. A seizure?
Yes, we're both here. We'll be ready." He hung up the phone and stood. "That was Dixon. She
says the scientist went into some kind of seizure."
Tristan and Larry worked together to gather up the supplies they might need. They'd just
completed their preparations when Cam and Spoons burst in, pushing a gurney. Rushing to the
man's side, Tristan put his hands on him and began to calm the seizure as Larry took his vitals.
Once the patient's seizure had subsided, Tristan closed his eyes and put all his focus into his
hands. Layers of pain, confusion, and fear peeled away as he searched for the problem. A sharp
pain in his head gave him a clue. He moved his hands to the man's head. "He has a brain tumor. A
big one, I think."
Opening his eyes, he looked across the gurney at Larry. "It's not operable. I'm going to need your
help."
Larry nodded, placing his hands on the scientist's head alongside Tristan's. Together they tried to
heal the tumor. As he always did with severe illnesses and injuries, Tristan sank deep into his own
mind. He could see the tumor in his mind's eye, and focused his healing on it.
A stab of severe pain in his head nearly made him yank his hands back. Instead he ignored the
discomfort and continued to focus on the tumor. Rather than subsiding, or at least lessening a bit,
the pain grew more intense. It's too much. I can't do it.

In desperation, he instinctively shifted his hands until they touched the other doctor's. At first
nothing happened, but then a sudden rush of warmth poured into him, and then into the man on
the gurney. He opened his eyes in astonishment.
Larry stared at him, eyes wide and shocked. "My God."
The power continued to flow through him, and for a moment he thought it would be enough.
Then the agony in his head flared still more. His vision went gray on the edges. He felt as if he
had smacked into a wall. He knew no matter how much he clawed at the barrier, he would not be
able to get past. Despite that terrible knowledge, he continued to strain, pushing as much of
himself into the still man as he could. The room wavered in front of him.

* * * *

"Tristan. Tristan, talk to me."
Opening his eyes, he saw Cam's worried face looming over him. He started to ask what had
happened. The sensation of ice picks stabbing into his head turned his words into a whimper.
Cam's expression turned from worry to panic at the sound. He looked around. "Do something!"
Another face appeared in Tristan's field of vision. Larry. "This is a side effect of his healing. His
talents are much greater than mine, so it follows that the cost would be greater as well. We need
to get him home."
"No." He forced the word out through numb lips. "I need to stay with the patient."
"Tristan, you can barely talk! Let me take you home."
Ignoring Cam's pleading face, and the debilitating pain in his head, he struggled to a sitting
position. "He's dying, Cam. I need to be here."
Cam and Larry each took an arm, helping him into a chair someone had dragged over to the
scientist's bedside. Tristan reached out and took the man's limp hand, determined to help him die
if he couldn't make him live.
"What's his name?"
It was Dixon that finally answered. "His name is Roger. Roger MacDonald."
Tristan squeezed the man's hand. "Don't worry, Roger. You won't be in pain. I promise you that
much."
And for the next six hours, he kept his promise. He remained by Roger's side, keeping the pain
and the seizures at bay. His patient never woke again. At just past ten o'clock, Roger MacDonald
died peacefully. Tristan lowered his head, weariness and sadness overcoming him as the life
seeped from the hand he still held.
Larry, who'd been hovering nervously the whole time he'd been sitting with Roger, approached
him. Tristan didn't resist when the older doctor took his pulse and other vitals, and pressed a small
bottle into his hand. "Here are some pain pills. I think you should take them tonight, so you can
sleep. Don't worry about coming in tomorrow. You need to rest."
The other person who'd remained in the room with them came to stand by his side. Cam hadn't
left the room once, but he hadn't hovered either. He'd remained in the corner, sitting in one of the
hard plastic chairs. Tristan had appreciated his presence, even if he hadn't spoken.
"Ready to go home, Tris?"
Speech was beyond his capabilities. He nodded. Even that simple movement sent shafts of agony
through his skull.
With Cam's help, he stood and began to shuffle toward his apartment, leaning heavily on Cam's
arm. The silent trip took twice the time it normally would due to Tristan's weakness. If he hadn't
had someone to lean on, he knew he wouldn't have made it.
Finally, they reached his door. Cam must have understood how drained he was, because he asked,
"Where's your key?"
"Back pocket."

Cam found Tristan's key and opened the door. When they'd crossed the threshold, Cam picked
him up with surprising ease, and carried him to his bedroom. Then Cam removed his shoes, shirt,
and pants, and helped him into the bed.
Once he was tucked in under the covers, Cam smiled down at him. "I'll bring you some water, so
you can take your pills."
Alone at last, the shell-shocked state he'd been in began to wear off. The pain, both physical and
emotional, pressed down on him like a stone. He hadn't been able to save Roger MacDonald. For
the second time in his life, he'd done a death vigil for a cancer victim he couldn't heal.
Thoughts of his adoptive mother, who'd died of breast cancer when he was twelve, assailed him.
He could see the beatific smile she'd given him as he'd sobbed that he couldn't save her, and hear
her telling him some things were beyond even him, but that was all right.
Sorrow overwhelmed him. He felt weak, broken. With a shaking hand, he swiped at the tears
slipping from the corners of his eyes. Then it was like a dam broke inside him, and he was
sobbing. He curled on his side, covering his face with his hands.
"Here you go--oh, Tris."
He heard Cam put something down on the bedside table. The bed shifted. Cam curled around him
protectively, front to back.
Needing comfort more than anything, Tristan turned over in Cam's arms, pressing his face to the
strong, solid chest. He couldn't seem to stop crying. Cam rubbed his back, his touch gentle and
soothing. "It's okay. Let it out, baby."
"I c-couldn't save him." His voice came out in a raspy, hiccup-y whimper.
"I know. You're not God, Tristan. You did everything you could for him. He wasn't in pain."
Something in Cam's voice got to him. His feelings were so raw, he broke into fresh sobs. Minutes
blurred into each other in what seemed an eternity before his tears stopped. He lay limp and
exhausted in Cam's arms, the pain in his head reasserting itself.
"Let me get your pills." Cam extricated himself and moved around the room.
When Cam returned moments later, he helped Tristan sit up and take the pain pills. Instead of
leaving afterward, however, he crawled back into bed.
"You don't have to stay with me." Tristan closed his eyes, still too miserable and sad to watch
Cam walk out, even temporarily.
"Yes, I do." Cam stroked his hair. "I've been dying to see you for days."
That made him smile. "I don't think this is what you had in mind."
"Well, maybe not quite, but I'm lying in bed with you. Not too far off."
The tender touch of Cam's hand relaxed him, making it easier for him to let go of the pain. "I'm
sorry about your mission."
"I'm sorry my mission hurt you. I didn't realize how much healing takes out of you."
He could hear the concern and tried to allay it. "This doesn't usually happen. I can heal minor
injuries with almost no repercussions. It's only when I come up against something severe that I
have problems. I have to take on some of the pain myself. I can't just get rid of it all."
"I was scared for you today."
The hitch in Cam's voice made him open his eyes. "I want you to know I can't go too far."
Cam's brow creased. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know how to explain. There's something inside me, like a wall almost. When I come up
against an injury or illness that's too severe, I hit the wall."
"Like a shut-off switch?"
"Yes, sort of. I've only hit the wall once before, and even then I knew I couldn't get past." He
blinked a few times, not wanting to cry again.
"What happened?"
Although he'd never spoken of his mother's death to anyone, not even his father before he'd died,
those compassionate blue eyes made Tristan want to talk now. He took a deep, shuddering breath

and began. "When I was twelve, my adoptive mother was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer.
I'd known something was wrong with her for months, but she refused to go to the doctor. We
always had to keep a low profile, because of me."
Cam said nothing when he stopped, only continued stroking his hair.
After a minute he continued. "Finally we could see she was really sick. Dad made her go to the
hospital. They said she had cancer all over her body. There wasn't anything they could do. One
day, when Dad went to the cafeteria, I took her hand and tried to heal her. I poured everything I
had into her. Then I hit the wall, and I knew." He blinked again, his tears near the surface. "She
woke up, and I told her what I'd tried to do. She smiled at me. I'll never forget that smile. Even
though I couldn't heal her, she wasn't upset, or even regretful. There was something peaceful
about her. A week later, she died."
Cam was silent for a long time. When he spoke at last, his voice was quiet and full of conviction.
"Your mother's death wasn't your fault. Neither was Roger's. I don't think you know what an
incredible person you are. Most people wouldn't help others if helping caused them pain, but you
do. I know why you have the wall. If you didn't, you'd keep giving until there wasn't anything left
of you. That's the kind of man you are."
He'd always thought of healing as his duty, albeit a welcome one. He'd never minded the
sacrifices he had to make. Cam made him sound like a much better person than he'd always
thought he was. Touched, he whispered, "Thank you."
Cam kissed his forehead. "No, thank you."
The pills were beginning to kick in, making him drowsy and a little confused. "For what?"
"For giving me a chance. I don't deserve a guy like you."
He wanted to argue, but he was too tired. His eyelids drifted closed as Cam snuggled in beside
him.

Chapter 12

A tingling pain in his arm awoke Cam the next morning. He'd been so many places over the past
couple of days, it took him a minute to remember where he was.
Seeing Tristan lying on his arm brought everything back in a rush. He and the rest of the team had
not been sure what to do when Roger MacDonald started seizing last night. The scientist had
appeared to be fine only seconds before. All they'd known to do was keep him from hurting
himself.
The memory of Tristan's gray, drawn face as he watched over Roger's deathbed made him
shudder. When Tristan had collapsed, Cam had been truly afraid for the first time in years. He'd
realized he had no idea how healing abilities worked. Tristan's explanation had cleared things up
a bit. At the same time, knowing what the healing did to his lover made things worse. He hated
that healing others caused Tristan pain. If he could, he would shield Tristan from anything that
would hurt him. His stubborn doctor wouldn't thank him for it, though--he needed to help people
too much.
The tingling in Cam's arm turned to tiny jabs. Grimacing, he tried to free his arm without waking
Tristan, who needed to sleep. Finally, he managed to shift until Tristan turned over onto his other
side. Cam slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
Seconds after he emerged from the bathroom, the phone rang. He rushed into the living room and
snatched up the handset, not wanting the sound to awaken Tristan.
"Hello?"
Claudia's surprised voice greeted him. "Chameleon?"

Oh, hell. He and Tristan hadn't discussed whether or not to tell people about their relationship. If
they could call fucking a couple of times and a bout of phone sex a relationship. Did he want
them to be in a relationship? Did Tristan?
He shook off his thoughts and focused on the phone, and Claudia. Hoping she wouldn't put two
and two together, he kept his voice calm and unconcerned. "Hey, Claudia. Are you calling to
check on the doc?"
"Yes... " Her voice trailed off, and he could hear her curiosity.
"Last time I went to check on him, he was sleeping. I brought him home last night, but I didn't
think he should be left alone. He was in pretty bad shape." Everything he'd said was the truth, if
an edited version. He wondered if she was buying his story.
She seemed to be. "That was good of you." She paused. "You saw what happened last night.
What did you think?"
It was scary. Beautiful. Terrible. "I don't really know how to describe what I saw, Claudia. What
he can do, it's, well, amazing. I've never seen anything like it."
There was a short silence as Claudia considered his words. "Do you think he'd be an asset to the
field team?"
Although he wasn't sure how he felt about Tristan being out in the field, and possibly in danger,
Cam had to be honest. "I think we'd be stupid not to recruit him. We don't have anyone else that
can do anything close to what he can do."
"I agree. Can you stay with him today, or should I send someone else?"
The thought of someone else taking care of his lover made his hackles rise. He forced his voice to
remain casual. "I can stay. I'm off for the next couple of days anyway."
"Thank you, Chameleon. That's kind of you." She sounded amused, and he wondered if she knew.
"I'll talk to Tristan later about joining the field team."
"Bye, Boss." Cam hung up the phone and went back to the bedroom to peek in. Tristan was still
sleeping deeply.
Hoping he'd stay that way for a bit, Cam decided to take the opportunity to run a couple of
errands. First, he went back to his place. Someone had brought his gear back and left the bag in
front of his door. After tossing the bag onto the sofa, he took a quick shower and changed.
Next, he headed to the cafeteria. Last night's ordeal had to have sapped Tristan's strength. A good
breakfast might make him feel better. Cam grabbed a tray and filled it up with what would
probably be too much food.
On the way back to Tristan's, he ran into a very worried-looking Telly. "Hey, Cam, is everything
all right with the doc? I heard the guy you brought in died."
Whether Tristan knew or not, he'd already made some friends at the Institute. Cam gave Telly a
reassuring smile. "He'll be okay."
"Good." The remote viewer turned to go, but swung back unexpectedly. "The doc's a great
person. The kind of person that cares about people, maybe too much. Don't hurt him."
Stunned, he could only stare after Telly as the other man walked away. "I guess my reputation
precedes me." Damn. He'd never been concerned about what people thought of him before. Now
he couldn't help but worry his history of one-night stands and an uncaring attitude would come
back to haunt him.
No. He wouldn't let it. Tristan was different, and he made Cam want to be different, too. He
would show everyone, including himself, he could have a real relationship without reverting to
his old ways.
Cam shoved his nagging doubts to the back of his mind, determined not to let Telly's words get to
him. He went back to Tristan's apartment and let himself in. Carrying the tray, he headed to the
bedroom. He set the tray on the bedside table. Tristan still slept on, sprawled on his back, and
Cam indulged in a long moment of staring.

Despite his slimness, Tristan's chest and arms were sleek and well-muscled. His pale skin almost
seemed to glow in the morning light. Cam wanted to lick every inch of that skin. Maybe later. He
sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke his lover's disheveled black hair, rubbing a
soft, silky lock between his fingertips.
When he refocused on Tristan's face, he found a pair of sleepy green eyes gazing up at him. He
smiled. "Hey. How're you feeling this morning?"
"Okay. My mouth is dry." Tristan's voice came out raspy and faint.
"Probably from the pills. I'll get you some water."
He came back with the water as quickly as he could. Tristan was sitting up, his back against the
headboard. Cam handed him the glass, which Tristan drained in a few long swallows.
Setting the glass aside, he gave Cam a wan smile. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
Tristan's gaze shifted to the bedside table, where the tray laden with breakfast food sat. "Did you
bring me breakfast?"
Battling the urge to duck his head and blush like a shy kid, Cam nodded. "I thought you might not
feel like going to get food this morning."
"That was really nice of you." Tristan broke off, his eyes full of emotion. "Thank you, for last
night and for breakfast."
Uncomfortable with such undeserved gratitude, Cam shrugged. "No problem. Now eat, before
your food gets cold."
After selecting bacon, eggs, and a piece of toast, Tristan began to eat. Cam noticed the slow,
deliberate way the other man moved, as if he still felt weak. Although he felt like a mother hen
for worrying, he made sure Tristan drank a small carton of milk and ate most of his food. Tristan
took his fussing in stride, not bothering to argue.
Other than Cam's occasional cajoling, they ate in silence. It was a comfortable silence, though. He
didn't feel pressured to fill the quiet up with meaningless talk like he normally would. Instead, he
was content to watch Tristan.
Finishing his last bite, Tristan turned to him, a quizzical smile on his face. "What?"
"Nothing. I'm just watching you." He had to grin when Tristan looked puzzled. "You don't have
any idea how hot you are, do you?"
Tristan ducked his head. "I'm sure I look great, after last night."
"You do to me." Cam stroked a fingertip along Tristan's jaw. "I missed you like crazy."
The way those green eyes lit up made him glad for his admission, no matter how needy it made
him seem.
"I missed you, too." They smiled at each other for at least a full minute before Tristan turned his
gaze down on himself. "Ugh. I need a shower."
Although he wanted nothing more than to join Tristan in the shower, he knew the man was still
worn out from last night. He tried to think of something else they could do. "Do you want to hang
out today? We can go out and get you some clothes and stuff."
"I'd like that. Your place, in an hour?"
"I'll see you then." He made a quick exit, not wanting to be there when Tristan was in the shower.
He only had so much willpower, after all.

* * * *

An hour later, he and Tristan were in his convertible, heading for the nearest mall. During the
forty minute ride, Cam told Tristan about the mission. Once they'd located Roger MacDonald,
there'd been a bit of surveillance, and then he'd gone in. He'd managed to convince the scientist to
come with them, with his research, and everything had been great. Roger had been talking about
his experiments one minute, and the next he'd gone into a seizure.
By the time he'd finished telling all about the mission, Tristan was chewing his lower lip, deep in
thought. "I'm not sure, but I think Roger's tumor caused his abilities."

"That would explain how we didn't know about them before, and why he didn't get the tumor
treated sooner. He must have been studying the effects." He couldn't help grimacing at the
thought of the scientist sacrificing his life in order to study something.
"He had to have known the risk he was taking. I suppose he thought his research would be worth
it." Tristan frowned, looking troubled.
"I guess we'll find out when we go through his files."
Their somewhat depressing conversation was cut short when they arrived at the mall. The parking
lot wasn't crowded on a weekday morning. He found a spot near an entrance and parked.
"Here we are." He shut off the engine and they both got out.
Tristan stretched, sighed. "I hate shopping. Maybe this time I'll be buying things I'll get to keep."
The wistful expression tugged at Cam's heart. He smiled. "You're sticking around for a while,
right? So you'll be able to keep your stuff as long as you want to."
Smiling back, Tristan turned toward the entrance. "Let's go."

* * * *

When they returned to the car, they were both laden with bags. Tristan hadn't wanted to buy
much, but Cam had thought of the dismal state of the doctor's wardrobe and insisted. They'd
purchased shirts, pants, and shoes, as well as a few other necessities.
He tossed the bags into the trunk. Catching sight of the silk boxers Tristan had bought, he was
unable to resist teasing a little. "I still think you should have bought those G-strings."
Narrowed green eyes greeted his statement. "So you said in the store, in front of the saleswoman."
He smirked. "Come on, you have to admit that was funny."
Tristan's lips twitched. "All right, fine. It was kind of funny. Just don't make a crack like that
when I'm at work, okay?"
He held up his first three fingers in the Boy Scout sign. "I won't. Scout's honor."
Tristan rolled his eyes. "As if you were ever a Boy Scout."
Laughing, they got into the car and headed back toward the Institute. As Cam drove, Tristan
reached over and rested a hand on Cam's thigh. He didn't make any attempt to tease Cam, just let
his hand sit there.
With anyone else, Cam would have tried to get him to move his hand up and play a little, or he
might have responded with a joke or a flirty remark. Somehow, the warm weight of Tristan's hand
felt perfect right where it was. Despite the tiny knot of anxiety that formed in his stomach, Cam
smiled.

Chapter 13

Back at his apartment, Tristan unpacked his purchases. Fortunately, Cam had gone into the
kitchen to try to scrounge up something for them to eat. He doubted Cam would find much, and
he wasn't all that hungry anyway, but at least the man had something to do besides hover over
him. He didn't mind having someone care how he was feeling. After so long without anybody, he
liked knowing Cam was there. At the same time, though, it took a lot of getting used to. Before
coming here, he'd never had to consider what other people wanted or felt, other than his patients.
Patients. There was a road he didn't want to go down right now. Thinking about his patients
would only make him dwell more on last night, and what he'd had to do.
The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. Putting the pair of shoes he'd been holding into the
closet, he hurried into the living room to answer.
Cam had beaten him to the phone and was frowning at the handset as he spoke. "Yeah, sure. Here
he is."
He took the phone from Cam, wondering who could be calling him. "Hello?"

"Hello, Tristan. How are you feeling?" Larry's voice sounded concerned, even over the phone.
"I'm all right. Tired, but okay."
"I'm glad. I was worried last night, more so because I didn't know what to expect."
He laughed a little at that. "You and Cam both." Humor draining away, he sighed. "I hope I won't
be up against something that serious again anytime soon. In case I do, though, you need to know
it'll be the same."
"I understand." He could almost hear Larry nodding. Then the older man continued. "I want to
talk to you when you come back, about what you did when we tried to heal him."
What he'd done? He thought back, remembering the strange feeling he'd gotten when his hands
touched Larry's, as if he were drawing strength from the other doctor. Nothing like that had ever
happened to him before, leaving him as confused as Larry obviously was. "I don't know what I
did. I've never tried to heal someone with another person's help before."
"Hm." There was a moment of silence. Larry finally cleared his throat. "Well, we can talk later,
and if you don't mind, maybe perform a few small experiments to see if we can discover what
happened. Why don't you take tomorrow off, too, just to make sure you're one hundred percent
before you come back?"
"I'll do that. See you in a couple of days, Larry." Lost in thought, he hung up the phone and sat on
the sofa.
He'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone when Cam spoke. "Are you hungry?"
He wasn't, not really, but he nodded anyway. When Cam motioned toward the tiny kitchen, he
stood and followed.

* * * *

Near the end of their meal, Cam's cell phone rang. Although he seemed annoyed, he answered,
listening for a few minutes, expression growing increasingly irritated.
"I was supposed to be off. Yes, I know. Fine. I'll see you in a few minutes." With a long-suffering
sigh, he flipped the phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket.
Tristan was pretty sure he knew what the phone call had been about, but he asked anyway. "Do
you have to go?"
Cam nodded. "For some reason, they want the whole team there for a debriefing or something. I
have a feeling it's going to take forever."
"Duty calls." Duty was something Tristan understood. He wasn't sure whether he was
disappointed or relieved, but he understood.
"Yeah." Cam stood and took his empty plate over to the sink. Without turning, he asked, "You're
feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, I promise. Thanks for staying with me last night."
"I wanted to." Cam faced him again, came over to his chair.
Tristan tilted his face up almost instinctively, knowing before Cam even moved to expect a kiss.
His eyes drifted shut at the soft touch of Cam's lips to his own. A sigh slipped out when Cam
moved away. A big part of him wanted to pull Cam back in for another kiss, but he didn't.
"I'll see you later, Doc. It'll probably be really late when we get finished, so I'll call you
tomorrow."
"Okay. Bye."
When he heard the front door shut, he made himself get up and wash the few dishes they'd used.
With that chore finished, he wasn't sure what to do next. He didn't want to sit around his tiny
apartment all night. If he did, he's start thinking, and that was the last thing he wanted to do right
now.
The phone rang as he was trying to think of what to do for the rest of the evening. "Hello?"
"Doc, how're you feeling?" Telly's voice was a mix of concern and interest.
"Fine. I'm bored, to be honest with you."

The other man laughed. "How would you like to hang out with Ned, Dean, and me? We were
planning to go over to the rec room on Cellblock B, over by Ned's. There are pool tables at that
one. You in?"
Going to the rec room sounded a lot better than being bored for the rest of the night. He'd been
wanting to check out the other rec room anyway. "I'm in. I don't know how to get there, though."
"Dean'll come and get you. Your place is on his way. He'll probably be there in ten or fifteen, if
that's all right."
"Sounds good."
He hung up the phone, feeling better already. Finding things to keep himself occupied until Dean
showed up turned out to be easy. He still had clothes to put away, and he liked things organized.
About fifteen minutes later, a loud rap on the door told him it was time to go. He shoved his key
into his back pocket and opened the door.
Dean stood there, grinning as always. "Hey, Doc."
"Hey, Dean. How's it going?"
Dean leaned in conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows. "Great. I've heard Tara will be at the rec
room tonight, so we might be in for quite a show."
An involuntary laugh slipped out. "You're not nice. You're not nice at all."
"I get that a lot."

* * * *

Telly and Ned were already racking the balls for a game of pool when Tristan and Dean entered
the rec room. Dean made a beeline for them. "Good evening, gentlemen."
After lifting the rack with exaggerated care, Ned turned to Dean. "Ready to lose?"
Dean narrowed his eyes. "I think not, my friend."
Looking over at Tristan, Telly shook his head. "These two get like this every time we play a
game. Any game."
Not particularly competitive himself, Tristan shrugged. "It's a pretty safe to say they'll beat me.
I've played pool maybe once or twice."
"In your whole life?"
Ned's incredulous tone made him laugh. "I've been pretty busy, what with the constantly moving
and hiding and all."
"Oh yeah."
Rolling his eyes, Dean picked up a cue. "Are you jokers here to play or talk?"
Tristan shrugged. "I'm here to talk, actually."
Ned and Dean gaped at him. Telly burst out laughing. "You two go first. I'll talk with the doc, and
then play the winner."
"Whatever." Ned turned to Dean again. "Kicking your ass will be a great warm-up for playing
Telly."
Tristan hid a smile as Dean and Ned walked over to the table, still bickering. "Have you all been
friends a long time?"
"Forever." Telly grinned. "We all grew up here, pretty much. Ned and Dean both have a parent
with a talent, so they've been here since they were really young. I came when I was nine, after my
parents died."
"I'm sorry about your parents." Tristan knew what it was like not to have parents, although his
father hadn't died until he was nineteen. Losing them both at nine must have been terrible.
"Thanks. I still miss them, but growing up here wasn't bad. Here I could use my abilities as much
as I wanted, and nobody thought I was a freak." With a wry smile, Telly indicated Dean and Ned.
"I met those two in school the first day, and they decided we were going to be friends. It's hard to
argue with them when they get something in their heads."
Tristan laughed, watching the two pool players taunt each other. "Yeah, I guess so." He paused.
"Do they have abilities?"

"Not strong ones, but yeah. Ned can almost always sense when someone's lying, or even being
misleading, which comes in handy for a teacher. Dean has a bit of telepathy, but only when
someone's projecting."
Two weeks ago, Tristan would never have considered having a conversation like this. Being able
to discuss abilities, and to have an open, honest conversation with someone, was hard to get used
to, but he liked the freedom of it. "And you're a remote viewer. Can you see whatever you want?"
Telly shook his head. "Not always. Sometimes things I see are too confusing to interpret, or I
can't see them at all. Sometimes I see random things, although training helped with that."
That was a subject Tristan wanted to hear more on. "Does everybody get training, or just the field
team?"
"Everybody gets some training on how to use their abilities. Kids get it as part of their schooling.
The field team gets the most intense training, though."
What he wouldn't have given to have training on his abilities as a child. Learning to deal with his
talent on his own had been difficult, even with his parents' support. "Are you on the field team?"
Telly nodded. "Yep, although I don't usually go out on missions. Most of the time I can keep an
eye on things without going anywhere." He tapped the side of his head. "Let me get something to
drink and I'll tell you about it, if you want. You want anything? We've got soda, beer, or water in
the fridge."
"I'll take a soda. Thanks."
Telly walked off in search of drinks. Tristan spotted a table not far away, and sat in one of the
chairs. He glanced around the room. On the opposite side of the long, narrow space, a few men
played darts. Instead of throwing the dart normally, they appeared to be using telekinesis. One of
the darts went wild and sank into the wall next to the dartboard, and the guys laughed.
Nearby, two women played ping-pong while a group cheered them on. Tristan also spotted a
game of poker in the corner. The cards looked strange, thick and shiny, and he wondered if they
were special somehow.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Tristan was having fun, too. For the first time in his
life, he could be himself. He could have friends, real friends, and maybe even a real lover, instead
of people he had to hide most of his life from. More than anything, Tristan wanted to be a part of
this strange little community.
He jumped when a can of soda appeared on the table in front of him. Telly grinned down at him.
"Sorry to startle you, Doc."
"No problem. I was just thinking." Tristan opened the soda and took a long swallow.
Telly sat across from him and opened his own soda. "Deep thoughts?"
Tristan shrugged. "Can you tell me about the field team?"
"Sure. What would you like to know?"
Everything. He couldn't exactly ask that, though. He considered. "What's the training like?"
"Intense." Telly leaned back in his chair, watching Tristan as if to gauge his reaction. "I went
through a ton of testing, both on my abilities and my other knowledge. Then I went through a few
weeks of ability drills and work with weapons and self-defense. After that, more testing to see if I
could hack it on the team. It's a bit like boot camp, in a way. There were times I wanted to quit. A
lot of people do."
"Wow." Tristan knew the training would have to be rigorous, for the safety of the team members,
but he hadn't really considered the logistics. Did he really want to put himself through that kind of
experience? Could he even handle it if he tried? On the other hand, he could probably do a lot
more good on the field team than doing routine physicals and bandaging skinned knees at the
infirmary. He frowned, conflicted.
As if reading his mind, Telly spoke again. "We could use a guy like you on the field team. I don't
want to put any pressure on you or anything, but you're the strongest healer here by a mile. You
could be the difference between life and death if somebody ever gets really hurt."

And that was exactly why he'd gone into medicine in the first place, instead of hiding his abilities
and becoming an accountant or a scientist. He chewed his lower lip. "Claudia mentioned the field
team to me when I first came, and I said I'd think about it. I'm still not sure what to do."
"Understandable. It's a big decision."
Telly was about to say something else, but a scowling Dean flopped down in one of the empty
chairs. "You're up."
Tristan glanced over at the pool table, where Ned grinned, triumphant. Tristan looked at Telly,
and they both burst out laughing. Tristan let his worries slip away. For right now, he'd just have
fun.

Chapter 14

Cam's thoughts whirled in circles as he left the debriefing. He'd been half right earlier. The
meeting had been long, but not boring. The Institute's researchers had barely scratched the surface
of Roger MacDonald's research, and already they knew they had something big. Tristan's belief
that MacDonald's tumor had caused his abilities was confirmed. The scientist had developed
several abilities thanks to his tumor, and instead of having the mass treated he'd chosen to study
the abilities. Cam didn't understand how anybody could make such a choice. There'd been many
times over the years that he'd wished his own talent away.
MacDonald's choice wasn't even the biggest bombshell. One of the researchers believed that part
of MacDonald's information was a list of others with abilities. Unfortunately, that section of the
scientist's files was encrypted. It would take Hacker and the other computer guys a while to break
the code in order to be sure. If they were right, the field team would have several retrieval
missions as soon as they cracked MacDonald's code.
Despite his interest in the information given at the briefing, Cam couldn't help thinking of Tristan.
Was he feeling better? Had he found something to do for the evening? Had he missed Cam?
Cam shook his head at himself. He was being ridiculous. He might want to have a relationship
with Tristan, but they didn't have one. Not yet, anyway. They'd slept together a couple of times,
that's all. The whole relationship thing was a mystery to him, but he knew better than to rush. He
didn't want to push Tristan too hard. If he was honest, he'd admit he didn't want to push himself
either.
For that reason, he abided by his earlier promise. Instead of going to Tristan's, or calling him, like
he wanted to, Cam forced himself to go back to his place. The apartment seemed empty and
lonely.
"Get it together, man," Cam muttered aloud, annoyed. How could Tristan have such an effect on
him, after such a short time? Maybe this relationship thing wasn't such a good idea.
Then he remembered holding Tristan in his arms the night before. He smiled. Maybe it was worth
it after all.

* * * *

After a restless night, Cam awoke feeling tired and out of sorts. His dreams had been disturbing,
full of scenes from the past he thought he'd put behind him long ago, and unpleasant visions of
the future. He didn't have any precognitive abilities, but the dreams still left him unsettled. His
subconscious could be trying to tell him something, but what? Would it be something he wanted
to hear?
Part of him wanted to call Tristan right away. Another part of him wanted to maintain some
distance. He split the difference and waited a couple of hours before picking up the phone.
Tristan answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey." Just hearing Tristan's voice was enough to smooth away some of his unhappiness. "How
are you feeling?"
"I'm good. How was the briefing?"
Cam sat on the couch and leaned back against the cushions. "Interesting. You were right."
"I like the sound of that." Tristan laughed. "About what?"
Cam closed his eyes and let Tristan's voice wash over him. "Roger MacDonald's tumor was
causing his abilities."
Tristan sighed. "I know it could have been treated. What research could possibly have been so
important it was worth losing his life?"
Cam didn't get that either. Even during the roughest times in his life, he'd done whatever he had to
in order to stay alive. "I don't know. Whatever he was learning, it must have been important to
him." Cam almost let the part about the list slip, too, but he wasn't supposed to discuss that.
"I guess." Tristan paused, long enough that Cam started to wonder if something was wrong. After
several long seconds, he asked, "Do you have to work today?"
The hesitation made Cam nervous. "No."
Another pause. "I've got some coffee, if you want to come over. I'd like to talk to you about
something."
That sounded ominous. Cam's stomach knotted. "Okay. I can be there in a few minutes."
"Great. I'll see you then."
Cam pushed the end call button, frowning. When somebody said they wanted to talk, it was
usually bad. But what did he know? His last "relationship" had consisted of fucking the same guy
twice, and that had been an accident. He'd forgotten who the guy was and picked him up again,
only realizing they'd been together once already after he had the man in his hotel room. Oops.
Sitting around wasn't doing any good. Cam steeled himself for whatever might come and stood.
During the short walk to Tristan's room, he tried to convince himself whatever Tristan had to say
wouldn't be bad. His old insecurities tried to raise their ugly heads, but he pushed them back
down. Things were different now.

* * * *

The door opened moments after he knocked. Tristan stood in the doorway in faded jeans and the
dark green T-shirt he'd worn the first night they slept together, his feet bare and his hair tousled.
Cam wanted to touch him, kiss him, but wasn't sure he would be welcomed. Instead, he hung
back.
Tristan smiled at him. "Come in. The coffee's ready."
Unable to smile back, Cam followed Tristan to the kitchen in silence.
Tristan indicated the small kitchen table with its two chairs. "Have a seat." He went to the
coffeemaker to pour two mugs for them.
Cam took the chair nearest to the living room. Watching Tristan pour the coffee and set the two
mugs on the table, along with a jug of milk and some sugar, gave him time to collect himself.
Whatever Tristan had to say, he would be ready. Cam was a good actor. No matter what face he
wore, it betrayed only what he wanted it to. They didn't call him Chameleon for nothing.
At last Tristan sat across from him. His grave expression only added to Cam's worry. He didn't
speak right away, concentrating on adding milk and sugar to his coffee.
Cam couldn't take the waiting. "You said you had something you needed to talk to me about?"
Tristan finished preparing his coffee and looked up. "I've decided I want to join the field team."
For a long moment, Cam couldn't process what Tristan had said through the flood of relief he felt
at what Tristan hadn't said. Then the words clicked. A thread of worry tempered his relief. "Are
you sure? It gets pretty dangerous sometimes."
Tristan nodded. "I've been thinking about it a lot. I talked to Telly last night about the training. I
know it's going to be hard, and dangerous, but I want to help."

Tristan had discussed joining the field team with Telly instead of him? Jealousy joined the roiling
mass of emotions in Cam's chest. He forced a smile. "If that's what you want, I'm behind you one
hundred percent."
"Thanks." Tristan's bright grin eased a bit of his tension. After taking a sip of his coffee, Tristan
added, "I'm going to call Claudia today and tell her."
Cam kept smiling. "That's great. She'll have you starting the training in no time."
Tristan rested his chin on his hand and looked at Cam. "What's wrong? You seem, I don't know,
tense."
Damn. Cam must not be acting as well as usual if Tristan could see his tension. He knew Tristan
couldn't sense his emotions using his empathy. In answer, he shrugged. "I'm tired. The briefing
was long, and I didn't sleep too well last night."
"Me either." Tristan's cheeks pinked. "Maybe we should take a nap?"
Back on familiar ground, Cam raised an eyebrow. "Together?"
Cheeks flushing redder, Tristan nodded. His voice lowered. "And in case you can't sleep, I've got
an idea of how to relax you."
That sounded promising. Cam didn't have to fake the grin that spread across his face. "That
sounds like a great idea."
They left the coffee cups on the table and stood. Tristan caught Cam's hand in his and led the way
to the bedroom.
Once inside, Tristan pushed the door shut and moved to stand in front of Cam. Cam wanted to rip
Tristan's clothes off, to devour the man, to make Tristan want him and no one else. When he
reached for Tristan, though, he did none of those things. His fingertips traced Tristan's jaw of
their own accord, a gentle graze of a touch.
Tristan's eyelids fluttered closed, and he swayed toward Cam. Cam closed the distance between
them and pressed his lips to Tristan's, soft and slow. Tristan let out a tiny sound, half sigh and half
whimper. His lips parted, allowing Cam's tongue inside.
Cam threaded a hand through Tristan's silky hair and deepened the kiss, wrapping his other arm
around Tristan to hold him close. Tristan melted against him without hesitation, warm and
willing. He'd never experienced that kind of easy surrender before, but he liked it. A lot.
They stood there for several minutes, kissing, deep and slow. Tristan gave as good as he got,
tangling his tongue with Cam's and wrapping a hand around the nape of Cam's neck in an almost
possessive gesture. It was an action Cam wouldn't normally have welcomed from a lover. For the
most part he liked to do most of the touching and avoid being touched in return any more than
was necessary to get off. With Tristan, it was different. He needed Tristan's touch like air.
Finally Cam broke the kiss. Tristan let out a whimper of displeasure that turned into a gasp at the
first brush of Cam's lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. Cam ran his lips from Tristan's
collarbone up to his jaw, savoring the taste and scent of Tristan's smooth, supple skin.
Tristan let his head fall back with a whispered, "Please."
Cam nibbled Tristan's earlobe. "Please what?"
Tristan shivered. His voice came out strained and hoarse. "Touch me."
"I am touching you," Cam teased, drawing Tristan's earlobe between his lips and sucking lightly.
The moan Tristan let out was gratifying. "Cam... "
Tired of teasing, Cam pushed Tristan's T-shirt up until he could lap at one of Tristan's small,
already hardened nipples. Tristan sucked in a sharp breath and clutched at Cam's head. "More."
"Take this off." Cam tugged at the shirt to show what he meant, then lowered himself to his knees
before Tristan. While Tristan struggled out of the shirt, Cam leaned forward and rested his cheek
against the rock-hard erection trapped behind the worn denim of Tristan's jeans.
"Oh, God."
Tristan trembled beneath Cam's hands. He ran them up Tristan's thighs, feeling the way the
muscles tensed beneath the material. For a moment he stayed right where he was, resting against

Tristan. He tilted his gaze up, surprised to find Tristan staring down at him, those stunning green
eyes locked on his face. Something in the depths of Tristan's eyes held him. They stared at each
other for several seconds. Cam's chest tightened in an unfamiliar way.
Then the erection beneath his cheek pulsed. He turned his attention back to the task at hand,
grateful for the reprieve for reasons he didn't want to examine. He had Tristan's fly undone, and
pants and boxers pulled down to his knees, in moments. Tristan's cock bobbed before him, full
and hard. He licked it from base to tip in one long, wet swipe. A bead of pre-cum slipped from the
slit and down the head, and Cam licked that, too, relishing the sweet-salty-bitter taste of his lover.
He looked up at Tristan, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "You want my mouth?"
Tristan licked his lips. He was breathing hard, his face flushed. "You know I do."
"Then take it." Cam took just the head of Tristan's dick into his mouth and stilled. Would Tristan
take what he wanted?
Apparently he would. Tristan's hips twitched, pushing his cock a couple of inches into Cam's
mouth. His hand threaded through Cam's hair, just resting there rather than forcing Cam closer.
Cam gripped Tristan's hips to show him it was okay to move. That must have been the sign
Tristan needed, because he thrust forward the rest of the way. Cam growled low in his throat and
pushed at Tristan's hips, encouraging him to thrust again.
Tristan lost it. His hand tightened in Cam's hair. His hips rocked forward and backward, burying
his dick to the hilt in Cam's mouth and pulling it almost all the way out. Cam could feel Tristan's
gaze on him like a physical touch, but he didn't try to look up. He closed his eyes and focused on
using his lips and tongue to bring Tristan as much pleasure as he could.
An incoherent stream of praise and pleading seemed to be all Tristan could manage. "So good,
Cam, oh, God, yes."
Cam had an almost overwhelming urge to touch his own cock, to bring himself off with Tristan,
but he wanted to wait. Coming inside Tristan would be a lot better than jerking himself off now,
if he could just hold off that long. He tightened his lips around Tristan's dick and hummed.
Tristan's thrusts stuttered to a halt. "Cam!" He threw his head back and came, hot seed pouring
into Cam's mouth.
Cam swallowed the bittersweet fluid as quickly as he could, lapping at Tristan's cock to prolong
his pleasure. Tristan trembled under his ministrations, his hand still tight in Cam's hair.
Finally, Tristan's grip loosened. He stepped back until his softening dick slipped from Cam's
mouth, and stroked Cam's hair with gentle fingers. "Come up here."
The wealth of emotion in Tristan's voice made Cam hesitate, but he couldn't refuse. He stood.
Tristan cupped his jaw and kissed him, deep and slow. This time he parted his lips to let Tristan
inside. Could Tristan taste himself on Cam's tongue? The thought was surprisingly hot. His cock
throbbed, demanding release. "I want you," Cam breathed against Tristan's lips.
"Then take me."
Tristan's echo of his earlier words drove Cam's desire higher. He pushed Tristan toward the bed.
Tristan got tangled in his pants, now around his ankles, and ended up sprawled on his back on the
bed.
Cam laughed. "Clumsy." He yanked Tristan's pants and underwear off and let them drop to the
floor.
"Shut up and strip." Tristan leaned up on his elbows to watch, his gaze hot.
Cam laughed again. A bossy Tristan was kind of sexy. "You going to order me around?"
Tristan's eyes heated even more at his words. "Maybe later. Right now, you can be in charge."
"Mmm, I like the sound of that." Cam pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away. He toed
his shoes and socks off and made quick work of his pants and boxers. Naked, he eased onto the
bed beside Tristan.

Tristan smiled at him, the expression sweet and welcoming, and all Cam's words caught in his
throat. All he could do was touch. He traced a line from Tristan's collarbone to his belly button
with a fingertip.
Tristan shivered and chuckled. "That tickles."
Cam repeated the movement, to hear Tristan laugh again. Unable to resist, he leaned over and
kissed that laughing mouth. Tristan stopped laughing and kissed him back, hungrily, as if he
hadn't already come minutes earlier.
The brush of Tristan's hand over his cock sent a wave of pleasure through Cam. He pulled back
far enough to mutter, "Lube?"
"Drawer." Tristan wrapped his hand around Cam's aching dick and pumped.
"Fuck, that feels good." Cam took Tristan's mouth in another hard kiss. Extending his arm as far
as he could, he felt for the bedside table drawer. He managed to grab the handle and get the
drawer open. Without looking, he rummaged through the contents.
By sheer luck, he hit on the lube, and then a small, square packet. He also managed to pull the
drawer out. It tumbled to the floor, where it landed with a crash.
Tristan and Cam pulled apart to stare toward the sound. Tristan's lips twitched, and then they
were both laughing--until Tristan started stroking Cam's cock again. Cam groaned and opened the
lube.
Tristan grabbed the condom package and ripped it open. He rolled the latex sheath down Cam's
erection with shaking hands. "Feels like it's been forever."
An answering impatience made Cam hurry the preparations. He slicked lube over Tristan's hole
with two fingers, pushing one in. The silky heat made him groan. He'd missed this. What was it
about Tristan? His body? His personality? They'd slept together a handful of times, and already
Cam was in danger of becoming addicted to the man.
Tristan whimpered. "Now, Cam. I need you."
Not I need it, or even fuck me, but I need you. Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, Cam
positioned the head of his cock at Tristan's entrance and pushed. There was a moment of
resistance before Tristan's body opened up for him. He was surrounded by tight, slick warmth.
Tristan stared up at him, eyes bright with emotion, and the connection was almost too much.
Cam closed his eyes and paused a moment, partly to give Tristan a second to adjust, but mostly to
get himself together. He must have been successful, because when he opened his eyes, Tristan
didn't appear to notice anything off. If he wanted to keep it that way, his best bet was to distract
them both. To that end, he pulled almost all the way out and shoved back in, fast and hard.
Thrusting into Tristan's body was even better than he remembered. Tristan's ass gripped his dick
like it was made for him, and the way Tristan arched up to meet his thrusts was pure poetry. Cam
pounded into Tristan, hard and frantic. Tristan took everything he gave and cried out for more.
The sight of Tristan writhing below him, hot, sweaty, eyes still locked on his face, was almost
enough to put him over the edge. He growled. "Touch yourself."
Tristan grabbed his dick and jacked it a few times. He cried out and threw his head back, arching
toward Cam. His channel clenched around Cam like a fist. Thick, white semen splashed between
them.
"Tristan!" The sudden tightness and the sharp scent of sex were more than Cam could resist. His
orgasm slammed through him, pleasure spreading throughout his body. He thrust a few more
times to prolong the aftershocks.
Then it was over. His suddenly weak, shaky arms didn't want to support him anymore. He
collapsed onto Tristan's chest.
Rather than complaining about the weight, Tristan curled his arms around Cam and held him
close. He kissed Cam's neck. The tender gesture, so unlike what Cam was accustomed to, nearly
undid him. He couldn't speak over the sudden lump in his throat.

Tristan didn't seem to have the same problem. He pressed another kiss to Cam's neck. "Roll over
and I'll get us cleaned up."
Cam rolled over. Tristan slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. He returned a couple of
minutes later carrying a warm, wet cloth. He got rid of the condom and cleaned Cam with gentle
efficiency.
When he finished, he tossed the cloth into a hamper and gave Cam a contented smile. "Ready for
that nap?"
A delayed sense of self-preservation made Cam want to say no and get the hell out of there.
Instead, he found himself nodding. "Sure."
Tristan pulled the sheet up over them and cuddled into his side. After a moment's hesitation, Cam
curled an arm around his lover. He expected to be restless and unable to drift off, but Tristan's
warmth, and the steady beat of his heart, lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 15

A quiet, snuffling sound woke Tristan. He tried to shift positions, but a heavy arm pinned him in
place. Cam.
Everything from a few hours before came back to him in a rush. He'd acted like he hadn't had sex
in years rather than days. He'd never been that way with a lover before. Cam hadn't seemed to
mind, though. Tristan's muscles twinged at the memory of how passionate Cam had been. His
face heated.
The snuffling sound came again, and Cam's arm moved, pulling Tristan closer. He nuzzled
Tristan's hair. "What time is it?"
Tristan leaned into the touch. "One-thirty."
Cam yawned. "Damn. That was one hell of a nap, Doc."
"It was, wasn't it." Tristan rolled over and smiled at Cam. "You can nap with me anytime."
Grinning, Cam stroked his thigh. "How about now?"
Tristan's erection answered for him.

* * * *

Forty-five minutes later, they managed to get out of bed. Tristan pulled on a clean T-shirt, boxers,
and a pair of jeans. By the time he finished, Cam was dressed as well.
Suddenly shy, Tristan struggled for something to say. The best he could do was, "You want some
coffee or anything?"
Cam shook his head. "Nah. I have a few things I need to do today, and you have to call Claudia.
So I guess I should get going."
"Okay." The reluctance in Cam's voice helped ease his disappointment. He walked Cam to the
door.
At the door, Cam leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll call you later."
Tristan smiled. "Good. I'll hold you to that."
"Tonight. I promise." Cam kissed him again, longer this time. He grinned when he drew away.
"Damn. You're irresistible, Doc. I better get out of here or I'm not going to get anything done
today."
Irresistible? Him? Hardly. Tristan laughed. "I don't think you need to flatter me, Cam. You
already know I'll put out."
Cam stared at him for a second, and then gave him a lascivious grin. "Isn't there an old saying that
flattery will get me everywhere?" He waggled his eyebrows.
"That's terrible. Probably true, but terrible." Rolling his eyes, Tristan opened the door and pushed
Cam through it. "I'll talk to you later."

Cam kissed him once more, quick and hard, and left.
Tristan stood in the entryway for a few seconds after the door closed, his fingertips pressed to his
lips. He could still feel Cam's mouth on his. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation.
Jeez. What am I, a teenager with my first crush? Rolling his eyes again, this time at his own
behavior, he went to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee.
Once the coffee was brewing, he picked up the phone and dialed Claudia's office. She picked up
on the second ring. "Claudia Greenberg."
"Claudia, it's Tristan."
Her voice warmed. "Hello, Tristan. How are you feeling?"
Great, after this morning. Tristan blushed, hoping Claudia couldn't read him over the phone. "I
feel much better today. I'm going back to work tomorrow, which is part of what I wanted to talk
to you about."
"Oh?"
Tristan took a deep breath. "I've decided I want to join the field team."
"Wonderful! We haven't had a healer on the field team for a long time." Claudia paused for a
moment, and Tristan could hear the sound of paper rustling. "I'd like you to start training as soon
as possible, but Dr. Roget wants to work with you a little bit longer. He mentioned wanting to
learn more about something you did when you were healing Roger MacDonald."
Tristan wanted to learn more about that, too. Nothing like that had happened to him before when
he healed, but if he could figure out how to borrow energy from others to amplify his own power,
he might be able to heal more serious injuries. "Can I start the training and still work half-days
with Larry?"
"That would work, if you're willing to put in long hours."
He was no stranger to long hours. Working at a hospital, they were a way of life. "I can do that."
"We'll begin your training tomorrow afternoon, then." Her voice became businesslike again.
"Thank you, Tristan. You'll be an asset to the team."
"I hope so." He hung up the phone and stood motionless, not sure what to do. He had the rest of
the day to kill. Tomorrow, he'd go back to work at the infirmary, and then start his training for the
field team. A twinge of nervousness rose. What if the training turned out to be too difficult, and
he disappointed everyone?
"Way to think positive," he muttered aloud. He had to find something to occupy himself with,
before he managed to make himself sick.

* * * *

The day dragged. Tristan cleaned his already clean apartment, organized his clothing, and took a
trip down to the laundry room. It was all pointless busy work, but he felt the need to stay
occupied.
He was attempting to watch an inane sitcom when the phone rang. Pathetically grateful for the
distraction, he snatched up the handset. "Hello?"
"Hey, Doc. How was your day?"
Just hearing Cam's voice made him feel better. He smiled. "Boring."
Cam laughed. "Poor baby. I'm surprised Claudia didn't try to haul you in for training today."
Tristan laughed, too. "You're not too far off. I'm going in tomorrow afternoon, after I work with
Larry for a while."
"I figured." Cam paused long enough for Tristan to wonder what was wrong. When he finally
spoke, he sounded serious. "We might want to keep what's going on between us kind of quiet for
a while."
Tristan frowned. No one at the Institute had seemed to disapprove of him being gay. "Do you
think it'll be a problem?"
"Not for the reason you think."
Cam's tone put Tristan on edge. He leaned forward. "Okay. Enlighten me."

"Nobody's going to get upset about two guys being together. I just meant because you'll be going
through training. I don't want to mess that up."
That made more sense. Tristan let out the breath he'd been holding. "I wasn't going to go rent a
billboard."
Cam's laugh was a bit stiff. "I know. Once you're officially on the team, I don't think anyone will
care. There's no written fraternization policy or anything."
"That's good to know." Tristan chewed his lower lip. His earlier confidence had fled, leaving him
feeling insecure and out of sorts. Cam wasn't helping. "I'm kind of tired. I guess I'd better get
some sleep."
"You've got a busy day tomorrow," Cam agreed. "Good night, Doc."
Tristan hung up the phone. He got ready for bed and lay down, but it was a long time before he
slept.

* * * *

Early the next morning, Dr. Roget greeted Tristan at the door of the infirmary. "Good morning.
How are you feeling?"
Tristan dredged up a smile. "Tired. Nervous."
"No lasting effects from the other day?" Larry gave him a clinical once-over. "You look better."
"I'm fine. I bit off a little more than I could chew the other day, that's all." Tristan shrugged and
picked up the day's appointment book. "I'm supposed to have field team training this afternoon,
but I'm all yours until then. What's scheduled?"
Larry took the book and set it aside. "Nothing. I cleared the schedule so we could work on
figuring out what happened."
Tristan was all for getting straight to the point. "How do you propose we do that?"
Larry rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "We can't recreate the exact circumstances, obviously. I
thought we could attempt to heal some minor injuries together and see if you could do the same
thing. Now that it's happened once, you may be able to do it again on purpose."
"That's as good a place to start as any." Tristan still didn't have any idea what he had done, or how
to do it again, but Larry was right about not being able to recreate the circumstance. They'd have
to start with something simple and see what happened.
"Excellent. Several of the scientists have agreed to be our test subjects." The other doctor must
have seen Tristan's grimace and correctly interpreted it, because he smiled. "It'll be fine. We don't
have to injure them. They've already taken care of that for us."
Somehow that didn't make Tristan feel better. He hated the idea of others hurting themselves in
order to help him figure something out. They were adults, however, and being part of an
experiment was their choice. He consoled himself with the knowledge. "Let's get started, then."
Larry led Tristan back to one of the exam rooms, where Max sat on the exam table. He had a
huge, vivid bruise on his cheekbone.
Concerned, Tristan hurried forward. "Max! What did you do to yourself?"
Max grinned, then winced as if the action pained him. "Dr. Carroll and I decided a little
impromptu boxing match would be a great way to hurt ourselves. Turns out our hypothesis was
correct." He held up his right hand, displaying skinned knuckles.
Tristan scowled. "Has Claudia seen this?"
Eyes wide, Max made a slashing motion with his uninjured hand. "No, and you'd better not tell
her. All she needed to know was that I planned to participate in the experiment."
Max's horrified expression was enough to bring a real smile to Tristan's face. "I ought to tell her,
but I won't."
Max sighed. "Thank you." He brightened again. "Just wait until you see Dr. Carroll."
Tristan rolled his eyes. "Great." He motioned to Larry. "I'll do the exam. We'll heal him together
and see if I can do that thing again."

A quick exam revealed extensive bruising to Max's cheekbone, but no fracture. Tristan closed his
eyes and explored the injury with his gift, just to be sure. When he was positive he knew what
was wrong, and how to fix it, he nodded to Larry. The other doctor put his fingertips to Max's
cheek. Tristan moved his hand so that it touched Larry's and began to concentrate.
Healing Max's bruise wasn't difficult. Tristan could have done it without much effort. Instead, he
divided his concentration between healing Max's cheek and connecting with Larry. He could feel
Larry there, but the strange connection they'd experienced the other night didn't happen.
The same thing happened when Tristan worked on Dr. Carroll and Dr. Landry, the other two
scientist-volunteers. By the time he'd finished with them, Tristan was no closer to understanding
what had happened with Roger MacDonald, let alone replicating it. His head pounded from his
intense concentration. After healing such minor injuries, he should have felt fine, but instead he
was exhausted. He didn't even attempt to join the conversation between the scientists and Larry
about what the next step would be. He couldn't bring himself to care.
The clinic door flew open. Tristan's gaze flew up to meet the eyes of a woman carrying a small
child. Her face was streaked with tears. "Doctor! Please, I need some help."
Tristan went into crisis mode immediately, waving the woman over to an exam table. "What
happened?"
The woman placed the little boy on the table, careful not to bump his head. "He climbed the
bookshelf. He knows he's not supposed to, but he did it anyway. It tipped over, and he fell. The
shelf fell on top of him." Her words ended in a sob, and she covered her face with her hands.
"Please help my baby."
Max approached the woman and put a gentle hand on her arm. "Come sit over here so the doctors
can work." He drew her to the waiting area.
Tristan didn't have to touch the boy to know he'd been hurt badly in the fall. When he put his hand
on the child's shoulders, images assailed him: fractured skull, broken ribs, broken arm, internal
bleeding. Being moved had worsened the damage.
"How bad is it?"
Larry. Not opening his eyes, Tristan shook his head. As quietly as he could, he said, "Bad. I'm
going to need help, and I'm not sure if I can heal him."
"Damn." Larry's quiet curse held a wealth of regret, an emotion Tristan knew well. Still, Larry put
his hands next to Tristan's.
Tristan focused his energy and began to send it into the child, working on the most serious
injuries first. Pressure built in his head, and pain bloomed in his chest, where the internal bleeding
was. The reaction wasn't a good sign. The child wasn't anywhere close to healed. Desperate,
Tristan grasped at straws. "Put your hands on my hands. Help me."
Larry placed his palms on the backs of Tristan's hands. "I don't know what to do."
For a terrifying moment Tristan didn't either. The sick feeling of failure, of loss, flowed through
him, worse by far than the pain that assailed him. "No," he whispered aloud.
Larry's hands felt heavy on his, and Tristan could feel the small amount of healing power that
flowed through them. He reached for the energy with his mind, envisioning it as a golden light. In
his mind, he grabbed the light.
Suddenly, energy flowed through Tristan's hands, shoring up his own flagging power. He focused
it on the boy. Injuries healed with impossible speed. The pain spread faster as well, but Tristan
ignored it. The only thing that mattered was the boy. At some point Larry's hands lifted from his,
but he didn't need them anymore. He had more than enough power to finish.
"Tristan. The boy's healed. Stop." Hands grasped his arms and pulled him away from the child.
Another hand patted Tristan's back, none too gently. "Breathe! Jesus." Tristan realized he'd been
holding his breath. He sucked air in, hard, and coughed. Shaky weakness hit then, and he
stumbled to a chair.
Larry's pale, sweaty face appeared in his line of sight. "Tristan? Are you all right?"

All right? Tristan didn't think he'd ever been better. They'd discovered how to unlock an aspect of
his ability he'd never known he had. They'd saved a little boy's life. Despite the pain in his head
and chest, Tristan wheezed out a laugh. "We did it, Larry."

Chapter 16

About the millionth time Cam looked at the clock, he realized he'd gone off the deep end. Tristan
was due to show up for his first day of field training at any minute, and Cam's stomach was all
knotted up. He couldn't decide whether he was nervous about Tristan having trouble with the
training, Tristan putting himself in danger, or the other members of the field team figuring out
they were together. Dix already knew, of course, and Telly seemed to have a pretty good idea, but
he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to know. This kind of relationship was so far outside of
Cam's normal MO he had no idea how people would react.
He wasn't even sure how he was reacting. He'd spent the previous day finding things to do after
telling Tristan he was busy, which had made for a long, boring, lonelyday. In reality, he had
nothing pressing to do that couldn't be done later, but he'd needed some time alone to think. Of
course, the second he walked out of Tristan's apartment he'd wanted to run back. He tried to tell
himself it was because Tristan was incredible in bed. While that was true, it wasn't the only
reason. In his more honest moments he had to admit he liked being around Tristan outside of the
bedroom, too.
What he didn't know was whether it was a good idea to let himself feel that way. There was no
guarantee that Tristan would feel the same. Even if he did, things might not work out. Things
usually didn't, in Cam's experience. Feelings changed. People left. Cam wasn't about to let
himself get too invested in a relationship that would run its course just like everything else.
Cam finished cleaning and reassembling his pistol and reached for a clip. Maybe if he took his
frustrations out on the firing range he could get his mind back on his job. The door opened,
admitting Claudia and a pale, frazzled Tristan.
Before he knew what he was doing, Cam put the gun and clip aside and stood. "What happened?
Are you okay?"
The smile Tristan gave him was weak at best, but his eyes sparkled with joy. "We did it. Larry
and I. We figured it out."
Cam didn't have any idea what Tristan was talking about. He looked to Claudia for an
explanation, but she wasn't paying attention. Finally, Cam decided he'd find out later and went to
help Tristan into a chair.
Tristan accepted his help without complaint, leaning into his guiding hand.
Claudia muttered something about having forgotten something and left. Cam turned to Tristan.
"What do you mean, you and Larry figured it out?"
Despite his obvious exhaustion, Tristan's voice was animated. "When we worked together to try
to heal Roger MacDonald, I somehow took energy from Larry and focused it to heal. I'd never
done that before, and Larry had never seen it either. This morning, we tried to figure it out by
working on volunteers together, but nothing worked."
"So what happened?" Suddenly Cam wasn't sure he wanted to know, yet he couldn't let it go.
Tristan sighed. "A woman brought her little boy in. He'd fallen and been crushed by a bookcase.
Neither Larry nor I would have been able to heal him alone. I tried, but I knew he was hurt too
badly." Tristan paused, ran a hand through his hair. "Then I had Larry put his hands on top of
mine, and I concentrated, and I just did it. I pulled energy from him, and I healed the boy."
There was a lot more to the story. Cam could almost hear the unspoken words. "What about the
wall you told me about?"

Their eyes met. "It's still there, but I can go much farther than before now." Tristan's gaze held a
conviction that chilled Cam in a way he didn't understand. He forced a smile. "That's great, Doc."
Tristan's answering smile made him glad he'd made an effort. He reached over and caught
Tristan's hand, surprised to find it freezing cold and shaking. He chafed it between both of his. He
watched Tristan more closely, noting his pale, sweat-sheened face. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap."
Cam smirked. "You look like crap, too."
Tristan let out a tired but genuine laugh. "Gee, thanks."
"Anytime." Cam would have made another smartass remark, but the door opened. He dropped
Tristan's hand and moved his own to his side as casually as possible. Claudia entered, followed by
Dixon, Spoons, Hacker, Telly, and several of the other field team members.
Claudia took her place at the front of the room. The others filed into their customary chairs.
Dixon sat next to Cam. Telly took the seat next to Tristan.
After a moment, Claudia tapped a pencil on the table. Everyone quieted. She gazed at them. "I
called you in today because Dr. Tristan Matheson is starting field team training. It's been a long
time since we had a healer on the team, but it's my hope that we'll soon have one again. I will be
calling on all of you to help Dr. Matheson whenever possible, and to help me determine if he is
ready to be on the team when he completes the training."
Telly grinned. "That's great, Doc. Glad you're going to be joining us."
Spoons muttered some sort of acknowledgement, his tough face wreathed by a shy grin.
Dixon smiled smugly and leaned across Cam to face Tristan. "I knew you'd be joining us."
"Yes, yes, you know everything. The all-seeing Dixon." Cam nudged her out of the way with a
playful elbow.
Several others shook Tristan's hand or offered well-wishes. Cam had to restrain a scowl at the
way several people offered to help Tristan with his training. A couple of them seemed a bit too
interested.
Uri, one of the telekinetics, sat behind them. He leaned forward and spoke right next to Tristan's
ear, his lips almost brushing Tristan's skin. "I'd be happy to help you with anything you need,
Doctor."
Cam couldn't help himself. He speared Uri with a glare that would have killed if he'd had the
power. "I don't think he needs your kind of help, Uri."
Uri narrowed his eyes. "I'd say that's for him to decide." He sat back in his chair and crossed his
arms, his gaze never leaving Cam's.
What the hell am I doing? Annoyed with himself, Cam turned to face the front of the room. He
wasn't about to get into some kind of contest with Uri over Tristan. If he gave Uri any indication
he liked Tristan, the other man would only try harder to lure Tristan away. They'd had a rivalry
ever since Cam had turned Uri down when the man first arrived at the Institute. Cam hadn't slept
with anyone at the Institute, until Tristan, and he hadn't wanted to start with Uri. Sticking with
men he wouldn't have to work with kept things less messy.
Now he was doubly glad he had turned Uri down. Uri's long, lean body and sexy mouth had
attracted Cam, but his personality didn't match the pretty exterior. Although he wasn't as strong a
telekinetic as Spoons, no one could deny Uri's abilities. Too bad his petulance and vanity ensured
nobody wanted to work with him.
Watching Tristan blush at the attention from the team, Cam realized he couldn't have found
someone farther from Uri if he tried. Tristan's talent was stronger than that of any healer he'd
seen, yet the doctor didn't seem to have a vain bone in his body. Instead, he focused all his energy
on helping others. Cam couldn't help the little thrill of pride he felt at the way Tristan dealt with
his abilities.
Claudia cleared her throat, and everyone quieted. "Thank you, everyone. Dr. Matheson needs to
begin preliminary testing now. The rest of you, go back to what you were doing."

Several people groaned, but they all stood and made their way out of the room. In moments,
everyone had gone except for Cam, Tristan, Dixon, and Claudia. Claudia motioned to Tristan.
"Come with me, and we'll get you started."
Tristan darted a glance at Cam. He looked nervous.
Reaching out to give Tristan's hand a surreptitious squeeze, Cam grinned. "Good luck."
Tristan smiled and squeezed back. "Thanks." He seemed less anxious as he stood and followed
Claudia out of the room, the unsteady hitch in his walk looking a little better to Cam's untrained
eye.
Cam sat there for a few seconds before he noticed Dixon staring daggers at him. "What?"
She frowned at him. "What was that all about?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." It wasn't a lie. Cam had no clue what she was getting
at.
"With Tristan. Are you seeing him, or aren't you?"
Cam returned her glare. "I fail to see how it's anybody's business."
"Are you going to play that card?" Dixon snorted, the sound conveying her obvious displeasure.
"You're either seeing him, or you aren't. If you are, great for you both. If not, why the hell were
you getting into a pissing contest with Uri?"
"Uri's an asshole!" he burst out. His cheeks warmed, but he focused on maintaining his
appearance. Nothing would show unless he allowed it to.
She shrugged. "So? What do you care? If you and Tristan are just fucking, maybe he would like
Uri's help with his training."
The thought of Tristan with Uri made Cam see red. Some primitive, possessive part of his brain
screamed mine, mine, mine. "He doesn't need Uri's help, or anyone else's!"
One corner of Dixon's mouth turned up in a tiny smirk. "That's what I thought you'd say." She
poked him in the chest. "So why are you hiding? You've never been secretive about your
sexuality before. Is it Tristan you're ashamed of?"
Somehow, Cam had lost control of the conversation, and his own responses. He stared at her,
confused now that the possessive haze had faded. He felt like he was about to step into a trap, but
had no idea how to avoid it. "No. Of course I'm not ashamed of him."
She leaned closer, and he could almost hear the snap of the trap closing. "Then why didn't you
want anyone to see you touch his hand? Why didn't you tell Uri the real reason you wanted him to
back off?"
Of course Dixon would notice those things. Cam raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't tell
her he had no idea what he was doing with Tristan, or that he'd been plagued by doubts since they
got together. He wasn't about to admit that when he wasn't second-guessing himself, he was
happier than he'd ever been. "Why do I have to announce my business to everyone? It's not like
we're ready to pick out rings or anything." That sounded weak. He added, "And I don't know if
Claudia would be too keen on two field team members dating."
"Is that what you're telling yourself? Give me a break." Dixon shook her head. Her voice
softened. "Tristan's a great guy, and for some reason he seems to like you. Don't fuck this up."
Cam gaped at her for a long moment before he could reply. "Wow, Dix. That was beautiful. You
missed your calling as a motivational speaker."
She punched him in the arm. "Shut up. Let's get back to work."
"Yes, Mistress." Dodging another punch, Cam jumped up and hurried out of the room. Dixon was
right on his heels.

* * * *

For the rest of the day, Dix stayed on Cam like a drill sergeant. She went to the shooting range
with him and critiqued every one of his shots. Then she ran him through a grueling series of
shifting drills. By the time she was finished, Cam's head throbbed and he wanted nothing more
than to go to bed.

Well, almost nothing.
Cam was already at Tristan's door before he realized he hadn't gone home as he intended. He told
himself he should turn around and head for his apartment, but his willpower had deserted him. He
knocked on Tristan's door.
A couple of minutes passed, long enough for Cam to seriously consider leaving. Before he could
force himself to move, the door opened. Tristan leaned against the doorway, his expression a mix
of sleepy and surprised.
The flannel pajama pants and thin white T-shirt Tristan wore clued Cam in. "Did I wake you up?
I'm sorry."
Tristan yawned. "It's okay. I fell asleep on the couch. Come in."
Cam followed Tristan into the living room. Tristan shoved a rumpled blanket and pillow to one
end of the couch and sat. Cam sat beside him, not too close. "How was the testing?"
"Harder than it would have been if I hadn't already been so tired." Tristan covered his mouth to
stifle another yawn. "I did okay, though. Claudia said I can start my training tomorrow."
"That's great." Cam grinned, proud all over again. "What are you starting with?"
Tristan paused as if thinking. "I think I'm doing firearms with Spoons tomorrow, and then hand-
to-hand combat with Dixon and Myers the day after that."
At least Tristan wasn't doing hand-to-hand with Uri.
Cam's relief was short-lived. Tristan continued, "That guy, what's his name, Uri? I ran into him
after I finished testing and he offered to show me a few defense moves."
I'll bet he wants to show you some moves. Cam clenched his teeth for a second, hiding the flash of
anger he felt at the thought of Uri putting his hands on Tristan. Practicing defense moves would
be the perfect setting for Uri to try to seduce Tristan. Cam's headache intensified. He forced a
smile. "That was nice of him."
"I'd rather have you show me." Tristan touched his hand, a light, tentative brush.
Cam's anger melted away. "I'll teach you anything you want to know." He turned his palm up.
Tristan smiled and put his palm over Cam's. After a moment, his brows furrowed. "Your head
hurts."
Cam couldn't help pulling his hand away. He started to ask how Tristan had known, but of course
Tristan knew. Healers knew that sort of thing. He shrugged. "I'm okay. Dixon put me through hell
this afternoon."
"It's not okay." Tristan brought his fingertips up as if to touch Cam's temples, but hesitated. "Can
I?"
Cam shook his head. He wanted to feel better, but not at Tristan's expense. "I'll take a couple of
aspirin and be fine. You need to rest, after this morning."
"I've been resting all day. Let me help you. Please?"
The please, along with Tristan's hopeful eyes, got to Cam. "Okay. Thanks."
Tristan's fingertips came to rest on Cam's temples, light as butterflies. Tristan closed his eyes.
Cam closed his, too. A gentle warmth flowed into his head. The pain receded, and seconds later it
was gone. He felt refreshed. Awed, he opened his eyes again.
Tristan stared back at Cam, his gaze warm and full of emotion. His hands slipped down to cup
Cam's face. "Better?"
Caught by that gaze, Cam could only nod. He wanted to say something, but unexpected emotion
clogged his throat. Instead, he slipped his arms around Tristan and pulled him in for a kiss. He
couldn't say what he felt, but maybe he could show it.

* * * *

Hours later, walking back to his apartment, Cam knew he was in way over his head. The huge
part of him that wanted to run back to Tristan's and spend the night in his arms didn't care, but the
small part of him that could still think rationally screamed at him to slow down. He'd gone from
wanting to fuck Tristan to wanting something... else. Something more.

He let himself into his place and flopped on the couch. What was he doing? Dixon seemed to
think he ought to announce to everyone that he and Tristan were together and live happily ever
after.
Life didn't work that way, though. Did it?
Not for him, it didn't. Eventually, Tristan would get tired of him and leave. Or he would find out
who Cam really was. Cam had learned a long time ago that nobody wanted him for himself. His
mother had abandoned him when he was four. Foster parents had always wanted a child that was
younger, or smarter, or better looking. Even trying to give them what they wanted hadn't worked
for long.
One of his foster mothers, who hadn't been able to conceive a child of her own, had wanted a
child with brown hair and eyes like her husband's. At six, Cam had wanted to be adopted so
badly. His foster mother had seemed like the perfect mom. She'd made cookies, given him hugs,
and read stories. Her husband had been great, too, kind and encouraging, and always willing to
play catch with him. Every night, he'd wished to be what they wanted, and then one day it had
happened. He'd run to show her, convinced she would be thrilled. Instead, she was terrified. She'd
called Social Services to come and get him. He'd cried and pleaded with her not to send him
away, but she didn't listen.
None of the foster homes after that one had been places he wanted to stay. The last one had
been... horrific. At thirteen, he'd run away. He'd spent almost a year on the streets before the
Institute found him. To this day, no one knew anything about him. Not even Claudia knew
exactly how old he was, or his real name. He'd become Chameleon the moment he stepped
through the doors of the Institute, and he had never wanted to be anything else.
If he'd learned one thing, it was to protect himself.
Tristan made him want to step out of the shell he'd built and be someone real again. After all
these years, he wasn't sure who the "real" him was. Nobody had ever wanted him before. What
made him think Tristan would?
Cam's stomach knotted. He couldn't take the risk. Things would be fine the way they were.

Chapter 17

The next few weeks flew by in a blur of research and work at the infirmary in the mornings, and
field team training in the afternoons. Tristan learned to shoot several different guns, how to
disable an opponent without weapons, and how to use quite a few different gadgets he'd never
seen before. Near the end of his training, he also learned defensive driving tactics, although as a
healer he probably wouldn't be doing any of the driving. By the end of each training day, which
could come any time from four to eight P.M., Tristan was exhausted.
He wasn't too exhausted to spend the majority of his evenings with Cam, though. The self-defense
lessons Cam promised him not only taught him a lot, but usually led to more enjoyable activities.
When he stopped to think about it, Tristan realized he was happier than he'd ever been. He had
real friends, he could use his abilities freely, and he had a lover he cared about. Watching Cam
sleep in his bed, Tristan thought he might be falling in love. It was a heady feeling.
The only problem was he wasn't sure how Cam felt about him. Sometimes Tristan was convinced
Cam cared about him as much as he cared about Cam. Other times he couldn't be sure. The sex
was phenomenal. Tristan had never felt physically closer to anyone, or more satisfied. The
emotional aspect was another story. Lately, Cam always seemed to have an excuse to leave
instead of staying all night. His being here now was nice. Tristan missed falling asleep with Cam.
When they first got together, Cam hadn't had a problem staying the night. Maybe there was more
to it than Tristan knew. He frowned and rolled to his back. He hadn't stopped to think about it

until now, but Cam hadn't told him anything about his past. Tristan had told Cam about his
mother's death, and small details about his life and previous jobs. Cam knew Tristan had spent his
life running, and was glad to finally be able to settle down.
Tristan knew nothing about Cam. Not his favorite color, what his childhood had been like, or how
he'd come to the Institute. Sure, he knew a few things about sports Cam liked, and TV shows, and
stuff like that, but he hardly considered those things to be important. How could they have gotten
this far without Cam telling him at least a little about his life?
There wasn't any point in stressing out over it right now. He needed to get some sleep. Maybe he
could ask Cam a few questions in the morning.

* * * *

In the morning, Tristan woke to find the bed empty. A slip of paper lay on Cam's pillow. He
picked it up and read it aloud. "Tris--Had something to take care of this morning before work, but
you looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you. See you at training. C."
Although Tristan tried to be happy Cam had left a note instead of just leaving, he couldn't. He
stared at the paper for several minutes, wondering if it meant something more than he wanted to
see.
The loud blare of his alarm pulled him out of his dark thoughts. Tristan slapped the off button to
silence the annoying sound. He dressed quickly and headed to the kitchen for a fast breakfast.
Twenty minutes later, teeth brushed and all necessities taken care of, Tristan left his apartment.
He wasn't scheduled to work at the infirmary, so he walked toward the training area. He would be
taking the final tests soon, and he wanted to make sure he was ready. On the way, he ran into
Spoons. He smiled at the big man. "Good morning."
Spoons smiled. "Hey, Doc. Think you're ready for the firearms test?"
That was the longest speech Tristan had heard from Spoons. He grinned. "If not, it's not your
fault."
Spoons gave him a doubtful look. "Maybe we should review this morning."
Tristan laughed. "Good idea." He turned toward the firing range, Spoons trailing behind him.

* * * *

Tristan sighed. It was six o'clock, and he was tired from a whole day of reviewing every single
thing he'd learned--or at least that was how it seemed. Dixon kept drilling him on the same things
over and over, maybe to help him remember them, or maybe to try and trip him up. He wasn't
quite sure. She was a tough taskmaster, but she loved to tease him, too.
She rapped his knuckles with the stack of flash cards she held. "Pay attention, Doc. This is going
to be on the test."
He groaned.
Before he could voice a complaint, the door burst open and slammed into the opposite wall. A big
man in a black suit rushed in, raised a weapon, and fired. Dixon fell to the floor.
Tristan stifled his instinctive panic. His only concern should be to get to Dixon. Everything else
was secondary.
A large hand around his upper arm stopped his attempt to move to Dixon's side. The suited man
yanked Tristan back against his chest and wound a thick arm around his neck.
Low and guttural, the man growled, "You're coming with me, Dr. Matheson."
How had they found him? Had his presence brought them to the Institute? He couldn't let the
innocent people here be hurt. Desperate, he made a choking sound and went limp. His attacker
fell for the move, loosening his grip.
Tristan elbowed the man's stomach as hard as he could. When he doubled over, Tristan twisted
away. He kicked the back of the man's knees, knocking him down. The gun clattered to the floor.
Tristan snatched the weapon up and aimed it at the intruder while backing toward Dixon. Keeping
his gaze trained on the man on the ground, he put a hand on Dix's arm. He needed to see how
badly she'd been hurt.

To his surprise, she sat up. "I'm okay, Tristan."
Astonished, he darted a glance at her. The front of her shirt was covered in blood, but she
appeared to be fine. "What--"
The man on the other side of the room sat up as well, and Tristan jerked his head toward the
threat. The suited man blurred for a second, and then Cam was grinning at him, wearing the same
black suit in a smaller size. "You pack a hell of a wallop, Doc."
For a few seconds he was speechless, his still heart pounding. Finally, he understood. "This was a
test, wasn't it?"
Claudia entered the room, her expression grave. "It was. I'm sorry for the subterfuge, but no
amount of paper and pencil testing or drills can show how you will really react in a dangerous
situation."
He nodded, more than a little overwhelmed. Leftover adrenaline surged through his body, leaving
him shaky.
She inclined her head in acknowledgement. "You did very well. You didn't panic, and you used
your training. You also showed a true healer's instinct to protect an injured comrade."
After clearing his throat, he managed, "Thank you."
"You still have a few tests left, but I think it's safe to say you're going to make the field team.
Congratulations." Claudia smiled.
Tristan's return smile was wobbly. The pride and excitement he'd expected to feel were there, but
muted by what he'd just been through.
Claudia must have understood, because she continued, "Why don't you go home? I think you've
had enough for one day." Her gaze shifted to Dix and Cam in turn. "You two, as well. Good job."
Dix stood, brushing at the stain on her shirt. "Damned blanks. That hurt."
Tristan jumped when a hand appeared in his line of vision. Cam grinned down at him. "Sorry,
Doc. Didn't mean to startle you."
Rolling his eyes, Tristan took the offered hand and allowed Cam to pull him to his feet. "Don't
walk so quietly then."
"Testy." The smirk Cam leveled at him held understanding beneath the taunting. "Let's get out of
here, before Claudia changes her mind about giving us the rest of the day off."
"Goodbye boys," Dixon cooed, her expression knowing.
Cam sang out, "Shut up, Dix," and hurried Tristan out the door.

* * * *

Riding on a wave of adrenaline, nerves, and desire, Tristan barely noticed the trip to his place.
Cam must have felt the same way, because the moment they got through the door Cam grabbed
him and pressed him against the wall for a bruising kiss. "Fuck, Doc, it was so hot the way you
dropped me and took my gun."
Tristan let out a breathless laugh. "That was hot? I could have hurt you."
"But you didn't." Cam kissed him again, quick and hard. "You were awesome."
Thinking of Cam's transformation earlier, and how convincing he'd been as a bad guy, Tristan
shivered. "So were you."
Cam pulled back to watch Tristan through narrowed eyes. "Do you trust me?"
That was an ominous question. Did he trust Cam? Heart pounding, Tristan nodded.
"Good." Cam's lips turned up in almost feral grin. "If you want me to stop, don't say 'no' or 'stop.'
We need something you wouldn't normally say." He paused for a moment, as if thinking. "If you
want me to stop, say 'stethoscope.'"
What? Cam might as well be speaking in another language for all Tristan understood. He started
to ask what Cam was talking about, but he never got the words out. Cam's features blurred in an
unmistakable way, and Tristan was staring into the face of the big, threatening thug from earlier.
Tristan sucked in a sharp breath, his heart pounding in sudden, irrational terror. The man pressing
him against the wall was Cam. He knew it was Cam. The man even still kind of looked like Cam,

in a bigger, tougher way. That knowledge didn't stop the surge of fear and adrenaline that
swamped him. Instinct took over, and he struggled against the hard body holding him in place.
Cam didn't smile, or react at all, except by catching Tristan's wrists in a light grip. "You can
struggle all you want, Dr. Matheson, but you can't get away from me."
The sound of Cam's familiar voice, even if it was lower and more gravelly than usual, eased a
little of Tristan's fear. So did the gentleness of the grip on his wrists. His fight or flight response
eased off enough for him to understand what Cam meant to do. This was a game. Cam wanted to
play, but he'd given Tristan a way out if he didn't like it, which explained the stethoscope thing.
He could say the word right now, and Cam would stop.
The thought comforted him enough that he decided to play along. He met Cam's eyes, now a
steely gray. "What do you want?" He didn't have to fake the quaver in his voice. It had been a
rough day.
Cam's eyes lit with desire and triumph before he seemed to remember his role. His voice cold, he
growled, "I want to take you in, of course. Our organization needs a healer." Then he narrowed
those icy gray eyes to give Tristan a slow once-over. "But maybe I want a little something else,
first."
Tristan shivered, equal parts desire and anxiety. Cam's act was almost too convincing. The hard
body against his was definitely convincing. The adrenaline, and the flat-out fear he'd experienced
over the course of the evening morphed into an angry lust he'd never felt before. He yanked his
wrists out of Cam's grip. "Get your hands off me."
Cam's eyes widened. He stilled for a moment, waiting, and Tristan realized he was waiting to see
if Tristan would say the word. When Tristan remained silent, Cam smiled, the expression
predatory. He caught Tristan's hands again, this time raising them above Tristan's head and
pushing them against the wall in a grip just shy of painful. "I'll put my hands wherever I want to.
If you try to stop me, that'll only make it better."
Tristan twisted in Cam's hold, unable to break free. The only thing he accomplished was moving
his lower body against Cam's. Through the thin material of Cam's slacks, Cam's hard, hot erection
scraped against Tristan's groin.
Tristan hissed. His own body responded to the contact. He relaxed his arms and ground his
hardening cock against Cam's.
Cam groaned. As Tristan had expected, Cam's grip loosened, his focus going lower. Tristan
waited a few seconds to be sure he was distracted, and then pushed his body away from the wall
as hard as he could. Cam fell back, and Tristan ran.
If he'd really wanted to get away, he would have gone for the front door. Instead, he headed for
the bedroom. Inside, he turned as if to shut the door.
Cam smashed into him, his additional bulk in this shape bearing them both down onto the bed. He
glared down at Tristan. "You're going to pay for that, Dr. Matheson."
Tristan stared up into an unfamiliar face, hard and sharp, with a square jaw, a nose that had been
broken a few times, a scar bisecting the right cheekbone, and angry, cold gray eyes. Tristan's
heart pounded from more than the short, frantic run to the bedroom. His voice, when he managed
to speak, came out weak and pleading. "Please. Just let me go."
"You'll be begging me for something else in a few minutes." Cam's brow furrowed a bit. "Unless
you have something else to tell me?"
Like "stethoscope," maybe? The flicker of uncertainty in Cam's gaze drove out any remaining
anxiety. Tristan sneered. "I'm not telling you anything."
"Suit yourself, Doctor." Cam reached up and loosened his necktie, then pulled the length of black
silk off. It wasn't until he tied the end around one of Tristan's wrists that Tristan realized what he
was doing.

Tristan put up a token struggle, enough to make tying him difficult but not impossible. Cam
threaded the tie through the slats of the headboard and brought the other end back to bind
Tristan's other wrist.
In moments, Tristan was bound to the headboard, effectively at Cam's mercy. He jerked at his
bonds a few times, testing their strength. The silk didn't give, yet didn't hurt him too much either.
Cam could do whatever he wanted to Tristan now, and Tristan couldn't get away. Tristan's cock
throbbed at the thought.
Cam stared down at Tristan, devouring him with his gaze. "Fuck, you look hot like this." He
climbed off the bed and removed his suit jacket, his movements slow and methodical. "I'm going
to take your ass over and over, and you're going to beg me for more."
Tristan bared his teeth. "Never."
"Never say never, Doctor." Cam took his time unbuttoning the shirt, revealing a broad, heavily-
muscled chest dusted with dark hair. Seeing Tristan's stare, he smirked. "Like what you see?"
Yes. "No."
"Liar." Cam let the shirt drop to the floor and toed off his shoes and socks. He stalked to the bed,
his movements deliberate and graceful. Rather than removing his pants, he left them on and knelt
on the bed beside Tristan's head. "You're going to suck me now."
"No." Tristan shook his head in denial, but he didn't take his eyes off the hard, heavy ridge in
Cam's slacks.
"Yes, you are." Cam popped the button at his waist with one hand, and slowly pulled the zipper
open, revealing nothing but bare skin. His engorged cock slipped out the opening, inches from
Tristan's face. He slid a hand into Tristan's hair, forcing Tristan to look up at him. "You're going
to suck me, and you're going to do it nicely." His hand tightened in Tristan's hair, an implied
threat.
The strength in that hand sent a thrill through Tristan. He nodded his understanding. Cam's cock
bumped his mouth, and he opened to accept it. Cam's erection slipped past his lips, hot and hard,
thicker than usual. He closed his eyes and lapped at the warm flesh, savoring the familiar taste
and scent of Cam. Tangy, bittersweet pre-cum hit his tongue, and he sought out more of it.
Above him, Cam groaned. "God, that's good." He pushed forward gently, fucking Tristan's
mouth.
Without his hands to guide Cam, Tristan had no way to keep Cam from pushing too hard, but
Cam didn't. He kept his movements shallow and careful. Tristan sucked at the head every time
Cam pulled out, and licked a stripe along the shaft each time Cam pushed back in.
"Shit, Tristan, you're so fucking hot like this." Cam sounded desperate, and he'd dropped out of
character. He stopped moving, his hands stilling Tristan's head. "No more of that."
Tristan opened his eyes and looked up. Naked desire showed on the face of the man above him.
Tristan had to remind himself it was Cam. Even as he watched, it seemed his lover mentally
shook himself, returning to the role he played. Cam's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "Now
I'm going to fuck you. If you're good, I won't turn you over to my teammates before I take you
in."
The low-voiced threat sent another shiver through Tristan. The picture the words painted in his
mind was... arousing, in a strange way, like when Cam reminded him of the possibility of
discovery in the laundry room. He wouldn't want to make the scenario real, but thinking about it
definitely turned him on. Their eyes locked, the dark desire in Cam's gaze sending Tristan's own
arousal soaring. Words escaped in a gritty, raw whisper. "I'll do whatever you want."
"I know you will." Cam flipped Tristan over onto his stomach.
The move tightened the tie around Tristan's wrists, leaving him no room to maneuver. Tristan
yanked at his bonds. His pretend struggle excited him, and apparently Cam as well.
Cam growled and yanked Tristan up onto his hands and knees. He reached for Tristan's fly, and
after a few fumbling seconds got the button open. He yanked the zipper down and pulled Tristan's

jeans down far enough to expose his ass. He smacked one cheek, hard enough to sting. "Last
chance. Sure you don't have anything to tell me, Doctor?"
"Fuck you!" Tristan's snarl turned into a cry as Cam smacked his ass again, harder. The skin felt
hot and sensitive, and he had to bite back a plea for more.
Cam laughed, the sound low and harsh. "No, I'm going to fuck you."
Tristan heard a tearing sound, and a thick, rough finger probed at his entrance, coated in slick
lube. He whimpered and tried not to push back into the touch. Cam didn't give him much
preparation, just a finger and some lube. He pulled back quickly.
Before Tristan had time to feel empty, Cam's impossibly thick cock was bumping his entrance.
Tristan had never had any complaints about Cam's size before, but in this shape, and size-
proportionate, he seemed huge. Cam shoved in slowly, and Tristan breathed through the stretch
and burn of it.
Cam squeezed his hip, as if to ask if he was okay, and he relaxed. Cam must have taken that as a
cue, because he grunted, "That's it. Take it all," and pushed the rest of the way in.
Oh, God. The sense of fullness was incredible. Tristan mewled and writhed. "Please."
Cam gripped his hips in a bruising grasp. "Please what? Please stop?"
Tristan shook his head, even as he agreed. "Please stop. Let me go. Just let me go."
"I can't." Cam drew back until his cock was almost free of Tristan's body, and then thrust forward,
hard and fast.
Tristan cried out. "Oh, God!"
Cam pulled out again and shoved back in. "You want me?"
Heat, friction, and a sweet pressure he almost couldn't take assailed him, and Tristan broke down.
"Yes, oh, God, yes!" He didn't care about the game they were playing, or what he was supposed
to say.
He expected Cam to stop talking and fuck him, but Cam stilled. "Say you're mine."
Tristan couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He moaned. "Please."
"Say you're mine, and I'll give you what you want."
Cam wasn't growling anymore. His voice sounded like Cam again, with a strange, serious note.
Tristan wanted to consider what that meant, but all he could do was push back toward Cam and
cry, "I'm yours."
"Mine." Cam's grip on Tristan's hips tightened.
Finally, Cam started to fuck Tristan in earnest, pounding into him with short, hard thrusts that
drove Tristan insane. He gasped and pushed back as best he could, which wasn't much given his
bonds and the jeans tangled around his thighs.
Cam tilted Tristan up slightly, and his thick cock scraped Tristan's prostate. Tristan lost his breath
as the contact happened again and again. Then Cam yanked Tristan back a few inches. The ties
around his wrists tightened to the point of pain. He clawed at the bedding, overwhelmed by
sensation. It was too much. A strangled sound, half scream, half sob, escaped him. His body
exploded with pleasure. Semen gushed onto the bed, and his stomach, the sharp, musky scent
filling the air.
Behind him, Cam hissed his name and pounded into him with several short, quick thrusts. Cam
collapsed onto his back then, driving them both onto the mattress.
They lay that way for several minutes, their harsh breathing the only sound. Cam was heavy and
hot on Tristan's back. Tristan could feel the wild beating of Cam's heart. It matched his own.
Eventually, he needed to breathe. He wiggled as much as he could manage. "You're crushing me."
"Shit, sorry." Cam rolled off him and turned him onto his back again. "You okay?"
Tristan couldn't hold back his satisfied smile. "Oh, yeah." He tried to scoot up the bed, but his
arms twinged. He grimaced.
"Fuck, I forgot." Cam went to work on the knots, and Tristan was able to sit up. Cam took one of
Tristan's wrists in his hand and chafed the skin. "You've got a mark. It didn't hurt, did it?"

Tristan smiled again. "Maybe a little, but not in a bad way." The whole experience had been
hotter than anything he'd ever done. At the same time, he felt... raw, somehow. Exposed. He
didn't know how to explain, or if he could. Could Cam be feeling the same way? Staring at the
not-Cam face, he couldn't be sure. He brushed his fingertips over the hard, square jaw, suddenly
needing to see his Cam. "What we just did was hot, but I want to be with you now."
For some reason, his words made Cam flinch. His cool gray eyes seemed to dim. He hid his
reaction quickly, covering it with a smile, but Tristan noticed. Cam's face blurred.
A barrage of emotions hit Tristan: need, want, weariness, fear. Sorrow. Resignation. Tristan
stared at his hand on Cam's face, now the face he saw every day. He shifted his gaze to Cam's
familiar blue eyes, which were looking back at him, confused.
Those emotions hadn't been Tristan's. They could only have been Cam's. Hardly daring to hope,
he whispered. "Shift again."
"What?" Cam frowned. "Why?"
"Just do it. Please?"
The please must have convinced him. Still frowning, Cam blurred and shifted into the image of a
television actor. That surge of emotions hit Tristan again, this time tinged with confusion.
He took his hand off Cam's face and grabbed his hand. "I could feel you. When you shifted, for
just a second, I could feel you."
Cam's frown deepened. He pulled his hand from Tristan's and ran it through his hair. "What do
you mean, you could feel me?"
"Your emotions. I felt them." Excitement coursed through Tristan. He reached for Cam's hand
again, but Cam shifted back to himself before Tristan could reach him.
"That's unexpected." Cam's smile appeared to be forced.
Tristan forced a smile of his own. Of course Cam would be surprised, after thinking nobody could
read him. "I guess so." Maybe he didn't want Tristan to be able to read him. The thought was
more than a little troubling.
They sat silent for a few seconds. A brittle awkwardness formed. Tristan looked down at the bed.
After a moment, Cam tipped Tristan's chin up. "Hey. Thanks for trusting me earlier. That was
incredible."
"It was." Tristan caught Cam's hand and kissed the fingertips. "Will you stay?"
"Of course."

Chapter 18

Four A.M., and Cam couldn't sleep. After such a long, tiring day, and the little game he and
Tristan had played earlier, he should have been asleep the instant he rested his head on the pillow.
He was exhausted, yet he couldn't stop thinking.
Tristan's comment about wanting to be with him had really struck home. He knew he ought to be
happy that Tristan wanted to be with him instead of always wanting him to shift into different
incarnations of the perfect man. Instead, anxiety, guilt, and confusion roiled through him. Tristan
didn't know what he was asking for. He didn't really want the real Cam. He'd proven that without
even knowing it.
Tristan's elation about his ability to sense Cam's emotions when he shifted also weighed heavy on
Cam's mind. Tristan was worming his way into every facet of Cam's life. Cam dealt with
dangerous situations all the time for the field team, but nothing scared him as much as the thought
of Tristan seeing him for who he was. Especially after what had happened earlier.
He closed his eyes and breathed slow and deep, trying to calm the sick, scared feeling in his
stomach. Pretty soon, Tristan would get tired of Cam's evasions. Tristan deserved a man who

would share everything, not the masks and half-truths Cam gave him. The problem was Cam
didn't know how to do anything else. He didn't want to do anything else.
Did he?
Not everyone approved of the way he led his life, but Cam had gotten along just fine. He'd been
happy. Okay, maybe not happy. Content. Did he want to risk that for something that probably
wouldn't last?
He was still asking himself that question when his cell phone rang at five A.M. A glance at the
display revealed Claudia's number. He slipped out of bed and into the hallway to take the call.
"Hello?"
Claudia's brusque, businesslike voice would have told him it wasn't a social call even if the early
hour hadn't. "We have an emergency retrieval. Can you be in briefing room four in fifteen
minutes?"
"I'll be there."
"Good." Claudia disconnected the call without a goodbye.
Work was yanking him out of his lover's bed at an ungodly hour. Cam should have been unhappy.
Part of him was, but another part was grateful for the reprieve. If he was on a mission, he
wouldn't have to worry about disappointing Tristan.
When Cam went back into the bedroom, Tristan mumbled, "Everything okay?"
"That was Claudia. We've got an emergency retrieval."
"You have to go?" The bedside lamp clicked on. Tristan was sitting up, blinking like a sleepy
owl, his hair in disarray.
Cam paused in the act of buttoning his shirt. "Yeah, I have to meet everyone in fifteen minutes."
He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, beside Tristan.
Tristan touched his hand. "Be careful."
How long had it been since someone had really cared if he was careful, if he was safe? Cam
swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "I will." He brushed his lips against Tristan's.
The brief contact wasn't enough, but it would have to do. Not sure what to say, he murmured,
"Bye."
"Bye, Cam."
Tristan's voice, soft and full of emotion, haunted him all the way back to his room, and then to the
briefing room.

* * * *

The emergency retrieval more than satisfied Cam's desire not to think about Tristan. A mother
and child, both with abilities, had been kidnapped in Mexico. They were being held for ransom.
The group that held them didn't know what they had, yet, and the field team needed to get the
woman and her little girl out before the men figured it out. If the bad guys clued in, they would be
able to offer their captives to one of the many organizations that collected people with talents.
Cam had been on dangerous missions before, but not often involving children. The addition of a
child added urgency to the field team's work, and made planning more difficult. Five grueling
days went by before they were able to rescue the woman and her little girl. Cam went in first,
taking out one of the kidnappers and assuming his form. Convincing the victims to come with
him was hard, even after he shifted to show them he wasn't really one of the men who'd taken
them, because they were terrified.
Finally Cam convinced them, and he led them out. By some miracle, nobody shot at them or
sounded the alarm. He let the rest of the team take charge then, grateful his part was done. All he
had to do was ride along while Hacker drove them to a safe location to await pickup by the
woman's husband, who would be bringing armed guards.
Grateful, the husband offered to put them up at one of his hotels for the night. It was too late to
start home, so they agreed. One more night in Mexico would be better than trying to travel.

After a mission, Cam was always tired, but keyed up. The team's usual method of unwinding after
finishing a job was to go to a bar or a club, and despite their exhaustion they voted to go out and
celebrate. Only Evan and Spoons elected to remain at the hotel. Cam, Uri, Myers, and Hacker hit
the first club they came to.
The moment they walked inside, Hacker made a beeline for the dance floor. Hacker was a terrible
dancer, but nobody could tell him that. He thought he was awesome.
Cam headed for the bar, Uri and Myers on his heels. Myers got a beer and wandered down the bar
to sit near a group of attractive young women. Uri, on the other hand, seemed to want to stick by
Cam, much to Cam's irritation.
His annoyance level shot up a few more notches when Uri leaned in close to him, pointing the
neck of his beer toward something behind Cam. "There's a sexy little thing behind you, and he's
staring at one of us."
Barely restraining the urge to roll his eyes, Cam swiveled his head enough to look behind him
without being obvious. He saw the man Uri referred to right away. Young, slim, big dark eyes
trained on either him or Uri. The young man was undeniably sexy, and he was definitely
interested in one of them. Cam couldn't help feeling a twinge of temptation. Before Tristan, he
would have pursued the guy without a qualm.
Cam turned back to Uri. "So?"
Uri's brow wrinkled. "What do you mean, so? You don't think he's hot?"
"He's hot. So what?" Cam shrugged.
Uri gaped at him for a second. Then his eyes narrowed, and he sneered. "Oh, I get it. You're going
to pretend you don't care, and then when my back's turned you'll make a move."
Cam stopped trying to hold back his derision. He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to make a move.
He's all yours."
"You've got to be kidding." Uri laughed. "Since when do you back down from a challenge? I
don't think I've ever seen you leave a club after a mission without bagging the hottest guy there."
Put that way, it sounded like Cam was the worst kind of opportunistic slut. Was that how
everyone saw him? Cam kept his expression neutral. "Maybe I don't feel like it tonight."
Uri opened his mouth to reply.
An accented voice interrupted. "Hello. I am Esteban. May I buy you a drink?"
Up close, Esteban was gorgeous. Perfect, caramel skin, dark, knowing gaze, black hair, full lips--
and he had directed his question at Cam. For a second, Cam considered the offer. Esteban's eyes
promised more than a drink. They spoke of heat and desire. No strings, no sharing, nothing but
sex for the sake of sex. All Cam had to do was say yes. He started to lean forward.
Tristan's face flitted through Cam's mind, and he recoiled, horrified. What was he doing? He and
Tristan might not have any kind of formal commitment, but if he slept with someone else Tristan
would be hurt. Really hurt. The last thing Cam wanted was to make Tristan unhappy. The thought
of Tristan, sad because of him, made Cam's stomach clench.
Forcing a smile, he shook his head. "No, thanks, Esteban. I'm sure my friend here would love to
have a drink with you, though." Before Esteban or Uri could say a word, Cam stood and stalked
out of the club.

* * * *

The long trip back to the Institute gave Cam way too much time to think. Introspection had never
been his forte, but now he couldn't seem to stop. Tristan wanted to be closer to him. He'd have to
be an idiot not to see that. He wanted to be closer to Tristan, too, so badly he ached with it. There
was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to curl up with Tristan and stay there forever.
Unfortunately, he had to be realistic. Cam could tell himself he would never hurt Tristan, but he'd
been tempted at the club. Maybe Uri and the others were right about him. Maybe he couldn't have
a relationship. Deep down, he'd always wondered if there was something broken about him,

something that kept people from loving him. What else could explain the way he kept pushing
Tristan away? Sooner or later, one of them was going to get hurt.
But I don't want to give him up.
That thought took him from the van, through the briefing, and straight to Tristan's apartment. He
stood there for a moment, staring at the door. It was early, but he knocked anyway.
The door opened, revealing Tristan dressed in boxers and a white T-shirt. His annoyed, sleepy
expression brightened when he saw Cam. "You're back."
The strong sense of rightness that washed over Cam both scared and warmed him. He gave
Tristan a tentative smile. "I know it's early, but I needed to see you."
He wanted to take the words back the instant they came out. Tristan looked pleased. "Come on
in."
Cam followed him inside.
Tristan stopped in the kitchen. "Do you want some coffee or something?" He yawned, and Cam
realized how early it really was. Tristan probably hadn't gotten much sleep. Of course, he would
never tell Cam to get lost and let him sleep.
Guilt filled Cam, and he sighed. "No, I'm good. I shouldn't have woken you up. I'll go."
"You don't have to go." Tristan touched Cam's arm. "I am tired, but you have to be exhausted.
You can come sleep with me, if you want."
Cam wanted. He wanted so much it scared him. He pushed the fear aside and nodded. "I'd like
that."
Tristan smiled and took his hand. They walked to the bedroom in companionable silence. Tristan
crawled back into bed. Cam shed his shoes, socks, and jeans and climbed in beside him. Tristan
curled up against him and was asleep in seconds.
With Tristan in his arms, Cam relaxed. For the first time in days, his mind quieted. Despite his
earlier turmoil and confusion, he drifted off a few minutes later.

* * * *

The blare of an alarm clock woke him hours later. He opened his eyes and saw Tristan sliding out
of bed. "You have to work?"
Tristan turned toward him. "Sorry about the alarm. I've got my final tests today."
"Really?" Cam sat up.
"Yeah." Tristan pulled a shirt out of the closet and yanked it over his head. "You can stay here
and sleep if you want to."
"No. Thanks." Cam got out of bed and stretched, looking for his jeans. "You should have told me
you had your tests today. I wouldn't have bothered you."
Tristan smiled. "You didn't bother me." He put on a pair of pants and crossed to where Cam
stood. "I'm glad you came over." He kissed Cam, a soft, sweet press of lips.
Cam couldn't help smiling back when Tristan ended the kiss. "Good luck today, Doc. Not that
you'll need it."
"Thanks for the pep talk." Tristan grinned. "I'll let you know how it goes."
They finished dressing and went into the kitchen. Tristan started the coffeepot and put some bread
into the toaster. Over his shoulder, he asked, "You want some breakfast, or coffee?"
"Just coffee, but I'll get it. I'll eat something later." Cam walked up behind Tristan and slid his
arms around Tristan's waist. He nibbled at Tristan's nape. How could he have been tempted for
one second? Tristan was all he wanted. "If we had more time, I'd have you for breakfast."
Tristan laughed and leaned back against him. "If we had more time, I'd let you."
Cam kissed Tristan's neck, just to make him shiver, and released him. "Rain check?"
"Definitely."
The toast popped up. Tristan buttered the two slices, giving Cam a grateful smile when he brought
Tristan a mug of coffee. "Thanks."

Cam drank his own coffee while Tristan ate quickly. He could tell Tristan was starting to get
nervous about the test, so he distracted him with small talk. The simple domesticity of sitting at
the table together felt good.
Coffee gone, Cam took his mug and Tristan's dishes to the sink. "See you later?"
Tristan pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "You know it."
As Cam left Tristan's apartment, he had the strange, terrifying sense that things were about to
change, and not in a good way. He pushed the thought aside as nothing more than lingering guilt
and went to his place.
He managed to keep himself pretty busy throughout the day. He had laundry, cleaning, and other
mundane tasks to take care of. He met Dixon for lunch, and told her a little about the mission. He
left out everything that had happened afterward, or any mention of his confused feelings.
At six, the phone rang. "Hello?"
"I made the team!" Tristan's excitement and pride came through loud and clear.
"I knew you would." Cam grinned, even though Tristan couldn't see him. "How do you want to
celebrate?"
Tristan's voice lowered. "I can think of a few ways. You want to come over?"
"Oh, yeah."
Tristan chuckled. After a pause, he asked, "Can you stay?"
Before Cam really thought about it, he was answering. "Not tonight. I have a meeting tomorrow."
At ten. He could have stayed with Tristan and had plenty of time to make it to the meeting. He
wanted to take his words back, but he didn't.
"Oh." Tristan sounded disappointed. "Well, that's okay. I would have had to let you sleep
eventually."
Cam laughed a little, despite the forced sound of Tristan's voice. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Chapter 19

The next couple of weeks went by in a blur of activity. Being on the field team was new, exciting,
and often exhausting. Tristan should have been having the time of his life. He would have been, if
it hadn't been for Cam.
He told himself he was being an idiot for worrying. They saw each other almost every day. Most
of the time they ended up in bed, but who could complain about that? Cam was great in bed--
focused, endlessly inventive, and energetic.
It was just when Tristan tried to discuss anything personal with him that Cam grew distant. He
seemed to have an incredible ability to change the subject without Tristan catching on until it was
too late. Or else he magically had something important he needed to do. Tristan didn't know what
was going on, but Cam was pulling away from him. That much he could see, and it hurt.
Tristan was still thinking about Cam when he arrived at the briefing room. Claudia had called a
meeting. A quick glance at the clock revealed he was early, so he sat in one of the hard plastic
chairs to wait.
"Deep thoughts?" Dixon slid into the chair next to him.
Caught up in his thoughts, Tristan jumped. "Oh, uh, no."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. What's going on?" She paused, a frown appearing on her
pretty face. "Don't tell me, it's Cam."
Tristan froze. Other than that time talking to Telly, Ned, and Dean, he hadn't talked to anyone
about Cam. He got the impression, although Cam had never said so, that Cam didn't really want
people to know about them.
When he didn't answer, Dixon sighed. "I know you two have something going on."

He turned his gaze to the floor. What could he tell her? He couldn't, no, wouldn't, deny their
relationship. He also didn't want to talk about it with Dix. He didn't say anything.
She heaved another sigh. "Okay, I get it. You don't want to talk about it. But, Tristan?" She
waited until he met her eyes before continuing. "Be patient with him."
At that moment, Claudia entered, followed by several other members of the team. Cam slid into
the seat next to Tristan. "What'd I miss?"
Tristan nodded to Dix. To Cam, he said, "Nothing, yet."
Claudia tapped the table. "Attention everyone. We've got a new mission."
Tristan focused on Claudia.

* * * *

Two nights later, Tristan lay in his bed, unable to sleep. It wasn't that late, but he was going on his
first mission the next morning. According to Cam, the mission to infiltrate and apprehend an elite
group of art thieves was low-level and low-danger. Tristan didn't care. He was still excited.
Restless, he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow. He traced a fingertip along
Cam's chest, leaving goose bumps in his wake.
Cam grinned at him. "Can't sleep?"
Tristan shook his head. "I'm too keyed up. I know the mission probably isn't going to be that
exciting, but it's my first one."
Eyes half-closing, Cam slid a hand down Tristan's side to rest on his hip. "I can think of a few
ways to distract you."
Although the idea of round two appealed, Tristan wanted something else. He caught Cam's hand
and brought it to his lips. "Tell me something about yourself."
It was only because he knew Cam so well that Tristan noticed the subtle stiffening of his body.
Cam's careless grin never wavered. "Like what?"
"Anything. I don't care." Tristan paused, thinking. "Where did you grow up? What were you like
as a kid?"
"Why would you want to hear about any of that? It's so boring." Cam laughed, but the sound was
hollow. He leaned forward to nibble Tristan's neck. "I'm a lot more interested in right now."
A cold feeling crept into Tristan's heart. He pulled away and sat up, wrapping his arms around his
knees. "Why do you do that?"
Cam frowned. "Do what?"
"Every time I want to talk, you try to distract me with sex." As Tristan said the words, he realized
how very true they were. "Which is it going to be this time? Are you going to put on the charm, or
leave?"
Cam sat up, too. His unruffled façade cracked, the tight set of his jaw and the wrinkle between his
eyebrows hinting at some strong emotion. Not for the first time, Tristan wished his empathy
worked on Cam so he could tell if it was frustration, or anger, or something else.
Whatever it was, Cam quickly concealed it behind a blank mask. "What are you trying to say,
Tristan?"
Tristan thrust a hand into his hair, not sure how to explain. "I'd just like to talk to you sometimes."
"We talk." Cam's defensive tone matched his stiff, closed-off posture. He hunched like he
expected an attack.
"No, we don't. Not really." Tristan stood and paced beside the bed, frustration, hurt, and a sick
sense that he knew how this would end fueling his steps. "I don't know anything about you."
Cam stared at him, his blue eyes blank. "You know all you need to know."
The words stabbed Tristan right where he was most vulnerable. He flinched. "All I need to know?
Apparently, that's next to nothing." He stopped pacing to meet Cam's gaze. "What do you think is
going on with us, Cam?"
If possible, Cam's expression became blanker than before. He spoke in measured tones. "I like
you. We're good together."

Like. Good together. Apparently Tristan had been fooling himself to hope there was anything
more to the thing between them than sex. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of Cam's
expressionless face. The truth hit him, and he opened his eyes again.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to speak. "That's not enough for me. I'm--" God, this is
hard. He cleared his throat, tried again. "Every time you've avoided a question, or distracted me,
or left to 'go do something,' I've tried to convince myself to give you time. I kept telling myself
you'd talk to me when you were ready." He laughed unsteadily. "I guess I was in denial."
Cam's jaw tightened. "Tristan... "
"No. Let me say this." Tristan moved to the bed, inches from Cam yet miles away. "I kept holding
on because you make me feel things I've never felt before. It wasn't just the sex. At least not for
me."
"Tristan. Please, don't." Cam reached for him, the expressionless mask falling away.
Tristan stepped back enough to evade the touch. "I can't do this anymore. I'm in love with you."
His voice broke on the last few words. He talked faster, determined to finish before he humiliated
himself any further. "I know you care about me, Cam, but it's not enough. I need more than sex
and casual friendship. I deserve more than that."
Cam sucked in a sharp breath. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it.
Lowering his eyes, Tristan forced words out. "It's all right. You don't have to say anything. Just
go."
"It doesn't have to be like this. We could--"
Tristan shook his head without looking at Cam. "No. You know how I feel. You obviously don't
feel the same way. It happens." He forced a smile and raised his gaze to Cam's. "Thanks. For
everything."
Cam had his expressionless face on again. He nodded. "Goodbye, Tristan."
Tristan managed to hold himself together until he heard the click of the front door closing. Then
he curled up on the bed and let the ache in his chest consume him.

Chapter 20

Walking back to his apartment, Cam was almost able to convince himself nothing had happened.
Tomorrow he and Tristan would leave for the mission, along with the others, and when they got
back things would be fine.
The memory of Tristan's face, open, shattered, intruded into his denial. I'm in love with you. You
obviously don't feel the same way. It happens.
Pain lanced through him all over again. How could he have let Tristan go? Would trusting him
have been so bad? The part of him that had been hurt too many times screamed yes! The rest of
him was wracked with uncertainty.
Anger joined the misery roiling through him. Tristan hadn't given him a chance to think, or try to
explain. Why couldn't Tristan leave well enough alone? If he really loved Cam, he would have
given him more time. Would he be so quick to leave someone he really loved? Not likely.
While he brooded, he had reached his apartment without realizing it. His fingers fumbled with the
key, but finally he got the door open.The second the door closed behind him, he rounded on the
wall and punched it, once, twice, three times. "Fuck!"

* * * *

Not sleeping made an on-time arrival easy. Cam reached the briefing room well before anyone
else. He set his bag on the floor and poured himself a large mug of coffee. He stood by the
counter to drink it.

Twenty minutes later, Claudia came in. She seemed startled to see Cam. "Chameleon. You're
early."
He gave her his trademark smile. "I felt like shocking everyone."
She smiled slightly and handed him a folder. "While you're waiting for the others, you can study
this. I'm leaving you in charge of the briefing." She tapped the edge of the folder. "Inside, you'll
find pictures of the man you'll be portraying. There's also a flash drive with videos of him. If you
get bored, you can practice."
"Gotcha." He'd have a few days of travel and prep time to become familiar with the guy.
Claudia nodded and left. Cam sat in a chair and started to read. He studied the pictures of the man
he would be for the next week or so, at least. Antonio Rossi, dealer of stolen art, was thirty-five.
If the name hadn't clued Cam in, the swarthy complexion and deep brown eyes would have told
him the guy was as Italian as they came. He was good-looking in an arrogant sort of way.
A hand on Cam's shoulder made him jump. He glanced over his shoulder, annoyed. "Jesus, Dix.
You scared the hell out of me."
Dixon tossed her hair off her shoulder and laughed. "Jumpy." When he didn't laugh or smile, her
mirth faded. "What's the matter with you?"
He shrugged. "Didn't sleep well." She started to say something else, but he shook his head.
"Leave it."
The door swung open, admitting a few team members they rarely worked with, and Tristan.
Cam's heart lurched. He maintained his calm expression by sheer will. Clearing his throat, he
greeted everyone and started the briefing.

* * * *

The mission was hell. They found the stolen art and were instrumental in the arrests of the gang
of art thieves, but success was small consolation to Cam.
Other than himself, Dixon, and Tristan, Claudia had sent second-string field team members due to
the low danger level of the mission. Dixon and Tristan were only there as precautions, really.
Dix's precognitive abilities should lower the risk of any surprises, and Tristan's healing ability
would mitigate any danger to Cam, the one person who had to put himself on the line. The other
team members' talents weren't as strong, and they didn't have as much experience. Because of
that, prep time was longer than usual, leaving Cam restless and frustrated. Then he had to remind
them of the procedure before he shifted and took his position. Once in position as a member of
the gang, he had to keep his guard up at all times.
At least working undercover was better than being forced to work with Tristan every day. He
wasn't sure he'd be able to bear that. Eventually, he'd have to. There was no way Claudia wouldn't
send them on the same mission again in the future. Tristan's abilities were too valuable for
Claudia not to use them often, and Cam's shapeshifting was vital to most missions as well.
After the tedious prep time, the operation itself didn't take long. A few days in, Cam got the
evidence they needed. The authorities rushed in and arrested everyone, including Cam. The guy
who arrested him was a bit overzealous with the handcuffs.
They released him as soon as they'd transported the thieves. He went to the van where the rest of
the team had been observing his movements.
Dix popped out like a jack-in-the-box. "Great job, Cammy."
He smirked. "Thanks. Just another day making the world safe for priceless artwork."
She burst out laughing and herded him into the van. "Come on. I don't know about you, but I'm
ready to celebrate."
Inside the van, Tristan appeared to be waiting for them. Cam tried to move around him, but
Tristan blocked the way. "We saw what that guy did to you. Let me see your wrists."
Cam's wrists hurt some, but he wasn't about to admit it. "I'm fine."
Dixon threw up her arms. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Let him look at them." She shouldered past both of
them and got into her seat. Under her breath, she muttered, "Men."

Defeated, Cam held his arms out for Tristan to examine. Even after days of looking at them, his
forearms looked strange, thicker than usual and dusted with black hair. He never had time to get
used to any of the faces or bodies he wore undercover. That had never seemed weird or
disconcerting until now.
Tristan took Cam's arm and tilted it, his gaze focused on the red, chafed area where the handcuff
had cut into Cam's skin. He wrapped a hand around each one of Cam's wrists and held them for a
moment. Warmth flowed into Cam, and a sense of wellbeing. The irritation vanished like it had
never existed.
Tristan didn't let go of Cam right away. The warmth faded, but Tristan's touch lingered. Cam
closed his eyes for a few precious seconds, savoring the feel of Tristan's gentle grip. It felt so
good to be touched.
What am I doing?
Angry at himself, Cam pulled his arms away with more force than necessary. Tristan's green eyes
flew up to meet his, surprised and maybe hurt. Cam's anger grew. Why the fuck was Tristan
looking all hurt? He gave Tristan his coldest stare. You did this to us.
Tristan's gaze dropped.
Cam gritted his teeth. "Thanks." He found a seat as the van started to move.
During the short trip to the hotel, Cam seethed. Tristan had dumped him, not the other way
around. Where did Tristan get off giving him looks like that?
By the time he dressed to go out to a bar with the others, Cam's anger had turned into cold fury.
Who cared how Tristan looked, or what he said? Cam didn't need Tristan. He was perfectly
capable of finding someone else. As many someones as he wanted.
As luck would have it, there was a nice bar right across from the hotel. The field team met up
outside the hotel entrance and walked across together. Cam listened to the triumphant chatter of
the others, not really caring what they had to say. He was going out for one reason, and one
reason only.
He was going to forget Tristan.
Inside, he left the others, who found a table to cluster around, and headed straight for the bar. He
needed a drink, and a prospect or two.
The bartender, a pretty woman dressed in next to nothing, was happy to get him a beer. He hadn't
shifted back to his normal appearance, so she must be partial to Italians. He gave her a grin, to
test, and the flirty smile she tossed back at him answered his question. He tipped his beer to her
and moved on, ready to find an actual prospect.
It didn't take long. A pretty young blond in skintight jeans and a snug T-shirt caught sight of Cam
and smiled at him. He was the perfect distraction. Cam gave the guy a blatant once-over before
smiling back.
Rather than coming over, the young man cocked an eyebrow in challenge. This one would
definitely be a good distraction. Cam strolled to the end of the bar, coming to a stop next to the
blond. "What are you drinking?"
"Corona."
Cam gestured to the bartender down at their end of the bar, a tough-looking guy, and asked for a
Corona. When the bottle arrived, he presented it to the blond with a flourish.
The guy laughed. "Thanks." He took a sip of the beer. "I'm Shane."
Cam had kept Antonio's face, so he might as well keep his name, too. He offered his hand.
"Antonio, but my friends call me Tony."
Shane shook Cam's hand, holding on a fraction longer than a normal handshake. His expression
turned sly. "How would a person go about becoming one of your friends?"
"It's hard. Not just anyone can be one." Cam leaned a hip against the bar, waiting. It wouldn't be
long before he found out if Shane was just flirting. The man was definitely sexy. Touching that
lithe body would be no hardship.

Shane moved closer to Cam. "I think I'd like to be one of your friends. Especially if it's hard." He
smirked at his own double entendre.
Cam chuckled. "I don't know. You might not be up for it."
That made Shane laugh. "Try me."
"I think I'd like to." Cam finished his beer in a few long swallows. Shane did the same and looked
at Cam expectantly.
Cam tilted his head toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms. The area wasn't visible from the
bar, or most of the rest of the room. Shane sauntered in the direction Cam had indicated, putting
an occasional shimmy in his walk that drew attention to his tight little ass. Shane was a definite
show-off. Cam couldn't have picked someone more unlike Tristan if he'd tried.
The mere thought of Tristan made Cam angry all over again. Starting tonight, he would go back
to the way things used to be: no strings, no demands, nothing but pleasure. A tiny, traitorous
voice in his head tried to remind him he'd felt more pleasure with Tristan than with any of the
one-night stands that came before him, but he ignored the voice.
When they reached the dim recess of the hallway, Cam pushed Shane up against the wall, one
hand on the paneling beside Shane's head, the other caging him in at the waist. "Still want to be
my friend?"
Shane's light blue eyes darkened. "Oh, yeah."
Cam kissed him. Shane's lips were hot, and they parted instantly, allowing him inside. He
devoured Shane's mouth like a starving man. Shane whimpered and kissed him back just as hard.
Cam's already-interested dick jumped to attention. He broke the kiss. "I don't know... I'm still not
convinced."
Shane grabbed Cam's hips, pulled him in close, and ground their lower bodies together. Shane
was at least as hard as Cam was, if not harder, and the contact made Cam hiss. With a smirk,
Shane murmured, "Does this convince you?"
"Mmm." Cam kissed him again. "Almost."
"I have a room in the hotel across the street. Come over, and I'm sure I can convince you." Shane
smirked again. "Maybe more than once."
"I like the sound of that." Cam ground against Shane again, because he could, and to hear the
other man whimper. A heady sense of triumph filled him. He could find a guy anytime he wanted.
Unbidden, his eyes slid to the side, his gaze locking on where Tristan and the others sat.
Tristan was staring at him. Cam expected Tristan to look away, but he didn't. Instead, he held
their eye contact, an expression of undisguised pain on his face. After a few long moments, he
swallowed hard and stood. He said something to Dixon and the others, and then he turned and left
the bar, his shoulders hunched as if he were curling in on himself.
Cam's sense of triumph faded, replaced by a cold, sick feeling. He stepped away from Shane.
Grabbing his wallet, he withdrew several bills. "I have to tell my friends I'm leaving. Why don't
you see if you can get us some beer to go? I'll meet you at the end of the bar in a few minutes."
Shane took the money and nodded. "I'll see you in a few." With one last, hot look, he went to do
as Cam had requested.
After Shane had gone, Cam leaned against the wall, the sick feeling spreading through him like
poison. Any opportunity for self-reflection was cut short by the arrival of a small, furious
redhead.
Dixon burst into the hallway, eyes snapping fire. "What the hell are you doing?"
Put on the defensive, Cam snapped back. "What does it look like?"
She stepped into his space and jabbed his chest with a fingertip. "It looks like you were
deliberately trying to hurt Tristan by picking up some trick and rubbing it in his face!"
Defensiveness, hurt, guilt, and regret coalesced into white-hot anger. "What I do is none of your
business, or Tristan's. In case you haven't figured it out, Tristan dumped me right before the
mission."

As if she hadn't heard him, Dix continued, "He loves you so much, even I can see it. You threw
that away."
Cam gaped at her. "You're blaming me? I'm not the one who did the breaking up."
"But you made him do it, didn't you?" Dixon shook her head, disgusted. "You really are an
asshole, Cam." Without another word, she turned and left.
Cam's chest was so tight he felt like he couldn't breathe. He leaned against the wall, fighting a
sudden prickling in his eyes. Dixon was wrong. He hadn't made Tristan do anything. Tristan was
the one who made demands of him, and wouldn't give him any time to think.
Tristan was the one who said he loved me.
Shane waited for him at the bar, but Cam had lost any desire to go back to the hotel with the man.
Closing his eyes, he shifted into a nondescript brunet he'd seen in the lobby earlier. He walked
straight out the hallway and out of the bar.
The short trip across the road and up to his room passed in a blur. He was inside almost before he
realized he'd left the bar. He leaned against the closed door for a few minutes, struggling to get
his emotions under control.
The raw pain on Tristan's face flashed through his mind, as did Dixon's furious accusation: "But
you made him do it, didn't you?"
His memory dredged up all the times he'd left Tristan for no reason to avoid spending the night,
and the times he'd distracted Tristan from subjects he didn't want to discuss. Tristan must have
felt alone, and distant, even when they were together.
"I did make him do it." The admission slipped out in an agonized whisper. In an attempt to protect
himself, Cam had hurt Tristan. The worst part was, he hadn't even succeeded in keeping himself
from being hurt. He'd never felt so alone, or empty, in his life.
Cam rubbed a hand over his face, shocked to find it wet. He stumbled into the bathroom and
flipped the light switch. Illuminated in the mirror, under the bright, ugly fluorescent light was
Tristan's tear-streaked face.
He hadn't shifted involuntarily since he was a kid. He hadn't cried, either. Cam stared at the face
in the mirror, wondering how his life could have gotten so out of control.

Chapter 21

Despite the success of his first mission, Tristan was anything but excited when they returned to
the Institute. The sight of Cam with that blond man in the bar had hurt enough to suck the joy out
of everything.
After Tristan left the bar, he spent the rest of the night torturing himself with thoughts of Cam and
the blond together. It was ridiculous for Tristan to feel so betrayed, so shattered, when he was the
one who'd broken up with Cam, but he couldn't tell his heart what to feel. Part of him had hoped
Cam would still care about him, would want him back. That stupid, naïve part of him was dead
now, buried under visions of Cam making out with a sexy blond.
He barely spoke during the debriefing, half his attention focused on not looking at Cam. He hadn't
done much anyway. Claudia asked him only a couple of questions.
That night, he stayed in his room, even though Telly invited him to come to dinner with him,
Dean, and Ned. Exhaustion enabled him to sleep some, but his dreams weren't pleasant. He was
almost grateful to be jarred awake at five A.M. by the loud ring of the phone.
He managed to find it and lift the receiver. "Hello?"
It was Claudia. She didn't bother with a greeting. "A few hours ago, a massive mudslide buried a
village in Bolivia. World aid agencies are mobilizing, but none of them can offer the kind of help
we can. I'd like you to head a medical team."

Tristan rolled out of bed, already thinking about supplies he'd need, and personnel. "Who can you
spare?"
Voice grim, she answered, "Whoever you need."
"I'll be in the briefing room in ten minutes."

* * * *

Traveling to a remote village in Bolivia wasn't exactly easy. After Tristan picked a team of three
nurses, Dr. Roget, Myers, and Spoons, who spoke fluent Spanish, they were hustled into a
succession of smaller and smaller airplanes. The final one scared Tristan, and he'd ridden in
medevac helicopters during some pretty turbulent weather. Their last mode of transport was a
battle-scarred Jeep, driven by a man who didn't seem to know the meaning of slow. Rutted roads
were no deterrent to his wild driving. At the end of the road, Tristan was grateful to be alive.
Once they reached the site where the village had been, a tent-city of aid workers had already been
established. Tristan showed his credentials and set up his team in one of the tents. He took Myers,
Spoons, and Larry and headed out to the mudslide site.
Myers's telepathy helped them find injured people. Spoons's telekinetic abilities were a help, but
his greatest asset was his strength, which he was more than willing to put to use digging survivors
out or helping Tristan heal. Larry helped him with the more severely injured as well. After
stabilizing the patients, they sent them to the nurses in their tent, or a team in one of the other
tents.
The next few days passed in exhausting monotony. Tristan saw and healed a seemingly never-
ending stream of injured. Some were too far gone to save, and it broke his heart to wave them
away. He couldn't use energy to take their pain away, because he needed it to help the ones that
could be saved. The longer they searched, the more people they found dead instead of hurt. He
didn't have to make any heartbreaking decisions then, but finding each one pained him.
Discouraged, he turned most of his attention toward helping the survivors. The people had lost
everything. Each night, Tristan stumbled back to the tent to snatch a few hours' sleep before
starting the cycle all over again.
At the end of the fifth day, Spoons approached Tristan. "They're calling the search off. The odds
that anybody's still alive down there are pretty much zero."
The grim reality couldn't be denied. Tristan nodded. "We're going home, then?"
"Yeah. Early in the morning." Spoons paused, his dark eyes on Tristan's face. "Get some rest,
Doc. You did everything you could. More than most people would've."
"Thanks." Tristan offered him a wan smile. It was hard to think he'd done everything he could
when so many people had died.
A few minutes later, he crawled into his sleeping bag, head, body, and heart aching from too
much healing with too little recovery time. He felt raw, broken, the way he always did in the face
of too much pain and death.
Tristan closed his eyes, remembering the way Cam had held him after Dr. MacDonald died. Cam
had been gentle, understanding, kind. Tristan closed his eyes, imagining the warm confines of the
sleeping bag were Cam's arms around him.
The fantasy wasn't anything like reality, but at the moment it was the best he could do. He fell
into an exhausted sleep, hoping he wouldn't dream.

* * * *

The trip back went by quickly for Tristan, mainly because he slept through most of it. No one
woke him unless they had to. Somehow he still felt tired and battered when they arrived at the
Institute.
Claudia spared him the ordeal of a debriefing. She'd been keeping in touch with Larry and Myers
whenever possible throughout the trip. Instead, she ordered him to take the next few days off. He
didn't argue.

His apartment felt strange, foreign. He went to his bedroom to lie down. His bed was too big and
too soft, the rooms too quiet. He stared up at the ceiling, empty and cold. Lonely.
He closed his eyes, but all he could see were the faces of the wounded, the dying, the dead.
Shuddering, he opened his eyes.
The phone rang. He swiveled his head to stare at it for a moment, caught up in his horror. He
finally picked up the receiver. "Hello?" His voice came out raspy and raw, like he hadn't spoken
in a long time.
"Tristan." A brief pause. "I heard it was bad. Are you okay?"
Cam. Tristan closed his eyes again, fighting to contain the surge of emotion he felt at hearing
Cam's voice. He had to swallow hard before he could make his own voice work. "I'm okay. It was
bad, but I'm fine."
When Cam spoke again, he sounded wry. "You're not. You pushed yourself too hard, you couldn't
save them all, and now you blame yourself." There was no condemnation in Cam's voice, just
understanding and maybe a bit of exasperation.
Tristan let out a mirthless laugh. "You're right."
"Well, don't." Another pause. "You saved lives. You know that."
"Yeah." They sat in silence for what seemed like a long time. Tristan's heart ached at the
awkwardness between them. He hated the distance, but hadn't it always been there? He
swallowed hard. "Why did you call me?"
"I don't know." He could almost hear Cam shrug. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I guess I
shouldn't have bothered you. Goodnight, Doc."
Cam hung up before Tristan could say anything else. Maybe that was for the best. Feeling the
way he did, Tristan would probably have begged Cam to stay on the line, or come see him. He
didn't need to add humiliation on top of everything else.

* * * *

Over the next few weeks, life settled into a routine for Tristan. When he wasn't training, he
worked at the infirmary with Larry, hung out with Telly, Dean, and Ned, or stayed at home. A
few times he tried walking in the gardens alone, hoping to clear his head. Once he accepted
Dixon's invitation to play poker, but Cam showed up, too, obviously not expecting him. The night
was awkward and tense, and Tristan turned down Dix's invitations after that.
No matter how much time Tristan filled with work or friends, he missed Cam with an ache that
wouldn't go away. Every time he turned around, Cam seemed to be there, and they had to try to
avoid each other. Sometimes he caught himself staring at Cam. He would have to force himself to
look away then, hoping nobody had seen him. Sometimes he thought maybe Cam was looking at
him, too, but Tristan never caught him at it. Probably wishful thinking, anyway. If Cam had any
real feelings for him, he wouldn't have picked a guy up right in front of him a few days after they
broke up.
At the rec room on Cell Block A one night, Telly came over to stand by Tristan after losing a pool
game. "It didn't work out, huh?" At Tristan's startled look, he added, "You and Cam?"
Tristan hadn't spoken about the breakup to anyone, although Dixon clearly knew. He started to
evade the question, but Telly was perceptive. He sighed. "No."
"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but do you want to talk about it?" Telly gave him a mock
grimace.
As Telly had no doubt intended, Tristan chuckled. Part of him did want to talk about it, to get it
out, but the rest of him recoiled from reliving it all. He was trying to get over Cam, which was
pretty hard to do when he saw the man constantly.
He shrugged. "I don't know."
They stood in companionable silence, watching Ned and Dean play, for several minutes before
Telly spoke again. "Did you care about him a lot?"
Keeping his eyes on the pool table, Tristan admitted, "I loved him. I still love him."

"Oh, damn. He didn't feel the same about you?"
"I guess not." Tristan forced a smile. "I wasn't willing to settle for anything less. It wasn't his
fault, really. It was mine. He never made any promises."
Telly frowned. "You know, when you two first got together I kept thinking about the way all of
us have seen Cam. He's always been such a player. I thought you were going to end up hurt. But
then, I don't know, I started to think you guys would work out. He really seemed to care about
you."
"I think he did, in his way. It just wasn't enough." Tristan shrugged again, feigning a casualness
he was far from feeling. "I wanted more than he could give."
"Man. That sucks." Telly's short but heartfelt words summed the situation up perfectly.
"Yeah."
To Tristan's relief, Dean interrupted. "Tristan! Your turn to get your ass kicked. Get over here."
Laughing, Tristan grabbed his cue and jogged over to the pool table. Dean was right. Tristan
would lose, like always, and they'd all tease him about it. He didn't mind losing, though. Even
getting his ass kicked would be better than spending more time dwelling on how much he missed
Cam.

Chapter 22

From the farthest corner of the rec room, Cam watched Tristan play pool with Telly's friend, the
researcher. Tristan laughed at something the man had said, not seeming to mind how badly he
was losing. He looked happy. A few minutes before, while discussing something with Telly, his
expression had been serious, even sad. He was beautiful either way. Cam's heart ached just
watching him.
Cam rolled his beer bottle between his hands, wishing he had the courage to go over there. As the
weeks passed, his anger at Tristan had faded. All that was left now was a deep loneliness, made
worse by the knowledge that Dix and Tristan had been right about everything. Cam had pushed
Tristan away at every turn, until Tristan had finally given up on him. Then he'd made everything
worse by making out with Shane right in front of Tristan. His pathetic revenge plan had backfired.
The worst part of the situation was Cam hadn't done anything to get Tristan back since then.
Except for the one phone call, after Tristan returned from South America, Cam hadn't contacted
Tristan. He'd only called him because he knew how Tristan felt about losing patients, and he
needed to know Tristan was okay. Understandably, Tristan hadn't wanted to talk to him. Such a
small setback might not have deterred anyone else, but the lessons life had taught Cam made him
terrified to try. He hadn't been able to summon the nerve to do anything else.
Dix had attempted to give them a chance to talk by inviting them both to poker night. What a
disaster that had been. Cam could tell Tristan felt awkward and uncomfortable, and he'd left as
soon as he could. Cam had left soon after, not wanting to hear Dix read him the riot act for being
a coward.
Even during training, Tristan avoided Cam. Cam had to wonder if maybe Tristan had given up on
him for good. Everyone else had, why shouldn't Tristan? The thought left him desolate.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Cam started when Spoons appeared in the chair across from him. The
man could move like a cat, despite his size. Cam pulled his gaze away from Tristan and onto
Spoons. "Hey, man. What's up?"
"Not much." Spoons's dark eyes watched him, steady and way too perceptive. He glanced toward
the pool tables and then back again. "Thinking of playing some pool?"
Cam's first instinct was to snap at Spoons, to deflect attention from his emotions, but he bit back a
cutting remark. Instead, he gave Spoons a half smile. "No."

The big man leaned back in his chair, still watching Cam as if trying to figure him out. "For a
while, you and the doc both seemed really happy. Then you're both unhappy, at the same time. I
put two and two together."
"And made four." Cam sighed. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted. Everyone seemed to
know what had happened between him and Tristan. Of course, he'd pretty much guaranteed
everybody would figure it out when he let their relationship go beyond casual in the first place.
"Have you been talking to Dixon?"
Spoons gave him an honest-to-God grin. "No. I try to stay out of her schemes whenever I can."
"Good call." They were silent for a few minutes. Spoons could probably have sat there for hours
in silence, but Cam couldn't. "Dix told me not to fuck things up with Tristan."
"Did you?"
Once again Cam was unable to get angry. The nonjudgmental way Spoons asked the question
made it impossible to. "Yeah. I didn't want to, but I did."
Spoons considered that for a moment. "Do you want to make things right?"
Cam's voice came out as a near-whisper. "More than anything."
"So make it right. The doc's a forgiving guy."
Why did something that sounded obvious have to be so difficult? Cam ran a hand through his
hair, tugging hard at the errant strands. "It's not that easy. I made a lot of mistakes, hurt him. I
know what he wants, but I'm afraid I can't give it to him." What if I'm not good enough?
Dark eyes sad, Spoons shrugged. "If you can't give him what he needs, then you have to let him
go."
Even if it hurts me more than anything. Cam sipped his beer to ease his suddenly dry throat.
"Maybe that's what I should do. Just let him go so he can find what he needs."
"Or... " Spoons paused, stood. He peered down at Cam, his eyes challenging. "You could step up
and try to be what he needs." Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Cam glanced back toward the pool table, where Telly and his friends were trying to show Tristan
how to make a shot. Could Cam step up and be what Tristan needed? He wanted to.
Tired, thoughtful, and more than a little confused, Cam put his half-empty beer into the recycle
bin next to his table and stood. He'd been half convinced that things were hopeless before talking
to Spoons, but now a thread of hope wormed its way into his heart. He had a lot to think about.

* * * *

The next morning, Cam made a point of arriving early for his training. Tristan was scheduled for
the same morning session he was, and Tristan tended to be early. He staked out a spot near the
door to wait.
Tristan walked in a few minutes later. His faint smile faded when he saw Cam. He nodded and
started to move away.
Heart in his throat, Cam managed, "Hi." His voice sounded odd and stiff.
Tristan paused in mid-flight, his expression uncertain. "Hi."
Desperate for a neutral topic, anything to make Tristan keep talking to him, Cam said the first
thing that came to mind. "I've got firearms practice this morning. What about you?"
Tristan looked even more confused than before, but he answered. "Me, too."
Other team members were starting to arrive. Cam met Tristan's troubled green eyes. There wasn't
time for true confessions, but he could share something small with Tristan now. "The first time I
had firearms practice, I was eighteen, and I thought I was going to be awesome."
"What happened?"
Cam smiled. "I got my ass kicked by a girl, and just about everyone else, too. It was weeks before
I was any good."
Tristan's return smile was slow in coming, but it came.

"Attention, everyone. We've got a mission." Claudia's voice rang out over the early morning
chatter, and any chance Cam had to continue was lost. He didn't mind. He'd spoken to Tristan,
told him something about himself, and made him smile. That was progress.

* * * *

An hour later, Cam, Hacker, Evan, and Tristan sat around the small table in one of the briefing
rooms, studying a file. Claudia stood beside the interactive whiteboard, which currently held a
picture of a small house.
"This should be a routine retrieval operation." She tapped the board, bringing up a picture of a red
haired teenage boy. "This is your target, Jeremy Benson, age fifteen. He has the ability to create
and manipulate fire, but it's uncontrolled. In the wrong hands, or untrained, he could be extremely
dangerous."
Tristan frowned. "What about his parents?"
"His mother died several years ago. We've contacted his father, Dennis, and he wants what's best
for his child. He'll be coming here, too." She glanced down at her notes. "You need to be aware
that Dennis is confined to a wheelchair. His health is very fragile."
Hacker crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. "If this is such a routine retrieval, why send us?
Why not one of the second-string teams?"
What was Hacker's problem? An easy job was better than sitting around doing nothing. Cam
turned to Claudia, wondering if she would answer.
Holding up a hand, she listed her reasons, raising a finger for each one. "Evan is fluent in
American Sign Language, which will be vital. Jeremy is deaf. Tristan will be there to monitor
Dennis Benson's condition. You'll be there to ensure the security of the operation, and to drive.
Your driving skills are better than anyone else's, and you'll know if you're being followed. Cam's
job is to put everyone at ease, and to be a decoy if needed." She gave Hacker a quelling stare.
"Any questions?"
No one said a word. She nodded. "Good. Study the information, make a plan, and be out of here
within two hours. I want Jeremy and his father safely back to the Institute as soon as possible."

* * * *

They were on the road in one of the handicap-accessible vans well before Claudia's time limit
expired. To his disappointment, Cam ended up in the front with Hacker. Hacker and Evan had a
mutual disinterest in each other that bordered on dislike on Hacker's end, and Tristan wanted to
check the medical supplies and prepare the open back of the van for a disabled passenger, which
meant Cam was stuck.
Hacker spent the whole trip either complaining about being sent on what he called a "babysitting
mission" or blabbing about a nurse at the infirmary he thought was hot. Neither topic interested
Cam. He nodded at appropriate times, but his mind was on Tristan.
The only bright spot in the trip, for him, was the brief stop they made at a fast food restaurant five
hours into the drive. They all headed to the bathroom first, and then stopped at the counter to get
takeout. Evan and Hacker got their food and went back out to the van, leaving Cam waiting with
Tristan. He leaned against the wall, keeping his gaze on the other people in the restaurant in an
effort not to stare at Tristan.
Having Tristan there next to him, less than a foot away, was joy and torture at the same time.
Fear, sadness, and hope mingled, and suddenly he had to know if he still had a chance. Voice low,
he asked, "Do you believe people can change?"
He could feel the weight of Tristan's eyes on him, but he didn't turn to look. After a long moment,
Tristan answered, his voice equally quiet. "Sometimes. If they want to."
Cam turned to face Tristan, whose expression said he was afraid to hope. Cam brushed the back
of his hand over Tristan's cheek in a barely there touch. "I want to. I'm going to try."
Tristan bit his lip, too many emotions to name flickering across his face.

"Order number one twenty-five!" The loud voice of one of the restaurant employees announcing
Cam's order ended the moment.
"That's me." Cam gave Tristan a last smile and went to get his food. Letting Tristan think would
probably be the best bet for now. Cam had to admit he needed the time himself. Trying to be what
Tristan needed was going to be a lot harder than what he was used to.
He went back out to the van, ready for another few hours listening to Hacker ramble on.

* * * *

Eight hours after they left the Institute, they arrived at their destination, the small, once-white
house located outside a tiny Kansas town. The place sat on a lonely, winding road in the middle
of a bunch of fields, and backed up to a stand of unkempt trees. The falling twilight made the
house look shabby and sinister. Cam shook off an unexpected shiver of apprehension.
Hacker pulled to the side of the gravel road and cut the engine. He opened the window between
the front and back sections of the van, which had been partitioned off with bulletproof glass.
"Okay, kids. We've reached our destination, so it's your time to shine. I'll stay here until you've
got the kid and his dad, then we'll get the fuck outta here."
"Sounds good." Cam turned to the others. "Let's go get our targets."
Cam slid out of the passenger side and shut the door. He moved to the back of the van, where
Tristan and Evan opened one of the double doors and hopped out. A sound split the stillness,
almost like a large twig snapping.
The feeling of wrongness Cam had experienced earlier came back, stronger than before. He put a
hand out to stop the others. Keeping his voice low, he murmured, "Something's not right here. Be
careful."
Face pale, Tristan nodded.
Evan drew his gun and held it at his side, ready. He nodded as well.
Together, the three of them moved toward the house.
From somewhere nearby, a shot rang out. Orange light flared, followed by a shrill, agonized
scream. Cam started to run.
He reached the front door in seconds. A glance through the front window revealed an empty
room. He grasped the doorknob and turned, unsurprised to find the door unlocked. Out here, the
Bensons no doubt thought they were safe.
He opened the door slowly and moved inside, motioning for Tristan and Evan to stay behind him.
The living room was peaceful and undisturbed. More sounds came from the back of the house: a
man's voice shouting, an odd, flat cry, a crackling sound. Cam moved toward the sounds, pulling
his gun as he crept forward.
In the kitchen, a terrible sight greeted them. A man sat slumped in a wheelchair, a hole in his head
making the cause of death obvious. The back door stood open. Outside, a dying fire burned in the
backyard. The light from the kitchen illuminated a gun on the ground, and an outstretched hand.
The smoldering form had been a man. Behind Cam, Tristan sucked in a breath.
Another man, dressed in a dark suit, came through the door connecting to the dining room. He
spotted them and raised his gun. Cam swung toward him, raising his own weapon.
Before either of them could shoot, fire engulfed the man. He fell to the ground, shrieking. Flames
licked along the floor and the doorway, spreading rapidly.
A redheaded teenager appeared in the back doorway. He stared at them, his eyes suspicious and
afraid. Heat radiated from him.
Evan stepped forward, holstering his gun. He spoke clearly and signed at the same time. "We're
from the Delphic Institute, Jeremy. We're here to help."
Jeremy's lips trembled. He signed something, his hands flying.
Evan moved closer to the boy, his expression grave. "I know, and I'm sorry we were too late to
save him. All we can do for him now is get you out of here. Will you come with us?"
After a brief hesitation, Jeremy nodded again.

"Let's go." Cam turned to Jeremy. "Are there more of them?"
A nod. Fingers flew.
"At least two more," Evan supplied.
"Fuck." Jeremy's fire had spread toward the front of the house. Cam would have preferred to go
out that way, but there was no help for it. They'd have to go out the back. Cam jerked his head
that way, and they all moved out the back door.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cam saw a blur of movement. He jerked his head around. In the
shadow of the trees, two men crouched. One of the suits raised his gun, his gaze locked squarely
on Tristan. Sick horror flooded through Cam. This couldn't happen. He didn't think, just reacted.
Reaching out toward Tristan, Cam shoved him as hard as he could. Tristan stumbled and fell to
his hands and knees, out of the shooter's sights.
Cam had stepped right into them. He never had a chance to get a shot of his own off. A sharp,
burning pain stabbed his chest, and he fell backward. His gun dropped from suddenly nerveless
fingers. He lay there stunned, gasping, his chest on fire. From the ground, he watched Evan aim
his pistol and fire off several rounds with icy precision. A cry, then another, told Cam Evan hadn't
missed. Good. He hoped the motherfuckers were dead.
Tristan's pale face appeared above him. "Jesus, Cam." He shoved Cam's shirt up and placed a
hand on Cam's chest. Anguish twisted his features. He yanked his own shirt off and pressed the
garment to Cam's wound. "You idiot. If you hadn't pushed me... What have you done?" Tristan
sounded angry, but Cam knew he wasn't. He was scared.
Staring up at Tristan's drawn expression, Cam understood why. The spreading numbness in his
chest and the cold in his arms made it official. He was fucked. Despite the pain, Cam smiled. His
voice, when he found it, came out raspy and weak. "What I had to. Couldn't let you get hurt." He
managed to lift his hand enough to brush his fingertips over Tristan's lips. If only they'd had more
time...
Tristan pushed his hand down gently, and then went back to pressing the shirt on Cam's gunshot
wound with both hands. "Don't move. I can fix this."
Not even Tristan could fix what was wrong with him. Cam's entire upper body had gone ice-cold.
His chest was soaked with what had to be blood. Each breath rattled in his chest in a way that
couldn't be good, but he barely felt the pain anymore. He smiled again, keeping his gaze locked
with Tristan's. Those beautiful green eyes were full of fear and pain. As his vision grayed out at
the edges, he whispered, "Love you, Doc. Sorry I never told you."
There. I finally said it. A sense of peace stole over him. Tristan would feel guilty for not being
able to heal Cam, but at least he would know Cam had loved him.

Chapter 23

Cam's eyes slid closed.
"Stay with me, Cam." Tristan took Cam's cold, clammy hand in one of his, but felt no response.
One of Cam's lungs had collapsed, and he was bleeding out fast. He was dying. "No, no, no."
Tristan couldn't lose Cam now. Not when he knew Cam loved him. Life couldn't be so cruel.
Evan grabbed his shoulder, leather glove cold on the bare skin of his shoulder. "We have to get
out of here. There might be more of them coming."
Tristan turned to Evan, frantic. "We can't leave him here. I have to save him!"
Evan's gaze held both compassion and the same dark knowledge Tristan held in his heart. It was
hopeless. Still, Evan said, "I know. We won't leave him. Get his feet." He shoved his gun into its
holster and grabbed Cam under his arms.

Tristan hated to move Cam this way, for fear of hurting him more, but it couldn't be helped. He
grabbed Cam's feet. He jerked his head toward Jeremy. When he was sure the teenager was
looking at him, he spoke clearly. "Come with us."
The boy nodded his understanding. As Tristan and Evan hefted Cam's limp body, the boy pressed
the cloth down on the wound, which still bled freely.
The trip to the van seemed to take forever. Hacker jumped out as they approached. "What the
fuck's going down? I was about to come in after you guys."
Maybe you should have. Tristan cut the thought off. None of this was Hacker's fault. He was
supposed to stay with the van and be ready to leave at any time. He had been following
procedure. It wasn't his fault everything had gone to hell.
Evan shook his head. "Get in and drive, Hacker. Cam's hurt. We'll explain later."
Hacker threw the back doors open and ran around to the driver's seat. Evan and Tristan managed
to get Cam into the van. The second they got Cam onto the floor, Evan released him and yanked
the doors shut behind them. Hacker must have taken that as a signal, because he peeled out of
there.
Tristan pushed Jeremy's hands away from Cam's chest, and tossed the blood-soaked shirt aside.
He pressed his bare palms to the bullet hole and focused on determining the extent of Cam's
injuries. "Hold on, Cam. Just stay with me."
The second examination didn't tell him anything better than the last one had. It was bad, really
bad. Maybe too bad.
No. I can do this.
Evan stared down at Cam's chest, his expression a mix of horror and resignation. "Tristan--"
"No! Don't you fucking tell me it's hopeless! I can save him." Tristan glared at Evan, his eyes
welling with tears of rage and pain. He blinked them back, determined to be strong for Cam.
Evan said nothing.
Tristan closed his eyes and concentrated on healing Cam's wound. Heat poured through him.
Muscles and tissue began to knit under his hands. Then his chest started to hurt. He choked and
gasped as a searing pain hit his lung. Too much. The wall loomed large in his mind. He wasn't
going to be able to do this. He opened his eyes and looked at Jeremy. "Help me."
The teenager stared back at him, amber eyes asking how?
"Touch my hands." Tristan turned to Evan, pleading. "You, too, Evan, please."
Evan wanted to argue. Tristan could see it in his face. Once again he said nothing. Instead, he
peeled off one of his leather gloves and grabbed Tristan's wrist. The boy placed his hand over
Tristan's.
Tristan closed his eyes again, and pulled at their energy with his mind. Warmth flowed into him
in a rush. He directed the power at Cam's chest, pushing as much of himself into it as he could.
The wall was still there. He smacked into the mental barrier, clawed at it. Excruciating pain built
in his head and chest, a sign that he was trying to go farther than he was supposed to.
Images flitted through his mind--Cam in his bed, holding him after Roger MacDonald died,
making love, Cam helping him train, Cam pushing him out of the way, whispering, "Love you,
Doc. Sorry I never told you."
You did tell me. Just not with words. Neither of us trusted enough to believe it.
And suddenly, Tristan understood everything. The barrier wasn't insurmountable, if he was
willing to sacrifice enough. Like Cam stepping into the path of a bullet meant for him, the barrier
was a choice. He could stop now, and Cam would die. Or he could choose to save him. What
might have seemed a daunting and terrible choice in the past seemed like no choice at all now.
Tristan opened his eyes. He lifted one of his bloody hands from Cam's chest and wrapped it
around Evan's wrist. Evan's gaze flitted to his, alarmed, disbelieving. Tristan smiled to let him
know it was okay. "Make sure he knows I loved him, too. More than anything."
Evan's eyes widened. He knew what Tristan planned. "Tristan, no!"

Evan tried to jerk his hand away, but Tristan held on. He wouldn't be able to do this alone. He
squeezed his eyes shut, pictured Cam's smile, and pushed through the barrier. White-hot pain
sliced through him, but he pushed through that, too. Energy poured through his hands, knitting
muscle and tissue and veins. Evan's urgent voice faded. Everything faded except for Cam, and the
bright light in Tristan's mind. The energy kept pouring from him, past the point of no return. His
arms grew weak. He had to struggle to hold himself up. He was pouring himself into Cam now,
all reserves gone, yet the sensation had gone from frightening to somehow joyful.
Cam's eyes opened, staring up at him in confusion.
Tristan had never seen anything more beautiful. Evan jerked away, yelled at Jeremy to let go.
Tristan could have told them it was too late. He didn't. He didn't care. Cam was going to live.
"Love you," he whispered.
Then the light exploded, and he saw nothing more.

Chapter 24

When Cam awoke, pain free, for a few seconds he thought everything had been a horrible dream.
It didn't take long for him to figure out something was wrong. Tristan leaned over him, haloed by
the strange overhead light. There was something weird about his eyes. They were dreamy and
unfocused. Cam wanted to ask what had happened, why he was lying on a hard, cold surface.
He never got the chance. Tristan's lips moved, he mumbled, "Love you," and he collapsed onto
Cam's chest.
The sudden pressure didn't hurt like it should have.
Everything came back in a rush. Cam had been shot. He should have died. Why hadn't he died?
Sudden comprehension sent icy fear through his veins. He brought a hand up to Tristan's back,
but felt no movement. "Doc? Tristan, talk to me." Nothing. His own heart pounded, without an
answering beat from Tristan's.
Oh, God. He sat up, taking Tristan's limp, lifeless body with him. Everything inside him screamed
out that this couldn't be happening. He wasted a precious few seconds, lost, in agony, cradling
Tristan to him. Wounded little whimpers escaped, like an animal in a trap. All he wanted was to
go with Tristan.
Next to him, Evan made a pained sound. Until that moment Cam had forgotten there were other
people in the van. He glared at Evan. "Why did you let him do it? Why?"
Evan didn't look away. "I saw it too late." He paused. "He wanted to save you so badly. I think it
would have broken him if he hadn't."
The same way it would have broken Cam to see Tristan shot in front of him, when he could
prevent it. No. I can't let this happen! Cam took a deep breath and forced himself out of the stasis
he'd nearly fallen into. He laid Tristan on his back and started CPR.
Evan opened the partition to speak to Hacker. "We have to get to a safe house fast. Make sure
they have medical personnel there."
"Do you think Cam's going to pull through?"
"Cam's fine. Tristan isn't."
"Oh, shit." The seriousness of a situation in which there was no one to help the healer must have
hit home. Hacker hit the gas harder, and the van lurched forward.
Cam barely heard the conversation around him. All his focus was on Tristan, who still wasn't
breathing. "Come on, baby. Breathe for me."
The kid took over compressions after a few minutes. Cam whispered to Tristan, begging him to
come back. He didn't care if the others heard him, or thought he was pathetic. "How am I
supposed to go on without you?"

Unexpected movement from the boy caught his attention. The young man had stopped
compressions and was signing something.
Panic welled. "Why did you stop?"
Evan answered for him. "He says Tristan's heart is beating. If he's still not breathing, maybe you
should give him a couple of rescue breaths."
Cam checked, but no air came from Tristan's mouth. He followed Evan's instructions, praying
they would reach the safe house soon.

* * * *

The rest of the ride passed in a blur. Cam almost fell over when Hacker screeched to a halt at the
safe house. The rear doors of the van flew open, and three members of one of the medical teams
rushed in.
One of the men moved Cam aside so the other two could work. He put a hand on Cam's shoulder
for a brief moment. "We'll do our best."
Was that supposed to reassure him? Cam watched their hurried, efficient movements. They
barked out instructions and vital statistics that meant nothing to him. They maneuvered Tristan
onto a backboard. One of Tristan's bloodstained hands hung over the edge, unresponsive. Cam
reached out and moved it back onto the board. A small, metal object fell from Tristan's hand and
hit the van floor with a ping. It was a bullet. Such a tiny little thing, to cause so much harm.
The medical team worked around Cam as if he didn't exist, and to them he probably didn't. Their
focus was where it should be--on Tristan. They counted to three and shifted him to a collapsible
stretcher. In seconds they had him secure, and with the help of another man waiting outside the
van, they whisked him into the safe house.
Cam stared after them. Tristan's hand had fallen off the edge again, and flopped lifelessly as the
men pushed the gurney. Cam would have given anything to see it move, even a little. He watched
until they were out of sight. The door closed behind them, and he remained sitting on the van
floor, bereft. It had been a long time since he'd been in a situation in which he had so little
control. Or cared so much about the outcome.
Hacker appeared in the doorway and said something. Lost in his own head, Cam ignored him.
After a couple of minutes, Hacker left, taking the kid with him.
Despite Evan's aversion to touch, he put his bare hand on Cam's shoulder and guided him out of
the van.
The image of Tristan, quiet, pale, and still, wouldn't leave Cam's mind. "You think he's going to
die, don't you?"
Evan didn't respond right away. At last, he said, "I don't know."
"I didn't want him to save me." All he'd wanted was for Tristan to live. Stupid, noble Tristan.
Why couldn't Tristan have let him have it his way? Anger warred with agony. He bit his lip,
trying not to let his emotions out. If he let them go, he was afraid he would never be able to get
them under control again.
Evan's lips quirked up in a half smile that was rueful rather than amused. "He was determined. I
didn't think he could do it. I shouldn't have underestimated him."
Tristan was stubborn. Cam knew that firsthand. He wanted to hope Tristan was stubborn enough
to live through the impossible, but he couldn't. Hope only led to pain. He'd only gotten what he
hoped for once in his life, when he and Tristan were together, and he'd managed to destroy that.
And now Tristan would be lost to him forever.

* * * *

Within hours, Claudia sent a driver to pick up Cam, Evan, Hacker, and the kid. Cam got into the
backseat of the van without protest. Inside, he huddled against the wall and didn't speak to
anyone. He couldn't bear any sympathy right now.
Tristan would be transported separately, when his condition was stable. If that ever happened.
Cam hadn't seen Tristan since everything went wrong. The medical staff had stayed in the room

they'd taken Tristan to, which made him think things must be bad. He'd wanted to ask if he could
see Tristan, just for a few minutes, but he didn't want to be in the way. He was also afraid of what
he would see.
He wondered if anyone would inform him if Tristan died. Would he be left to overhear the news
over dinner some night? "Oh, so sad about that healer dying. Wasn't he a friend of yours?"
Claudia had to suspect about their relationship. Not that they had one anymore, since Cam had
fucked it up. An image flitted through his mind of Claudia coming into the team debriefing to tell
them all Tristan was gone. There was no way he would be able to get through that without losing
it, chameleon or not. His façade could never be that good. He put a hand over his mouth to stifle
the sound that wanted to emerge.
They arrived at the Institute four hours later. Claudia, Max, and Dixon waited at the entrance for
them. Needing a protective shell of some kind, Cam blanked his expression.
Claudia greeted the boy in sign language, and they spoke for a couple of minutes. At one point
she must have been expressing sympathy about his dad, because Jeremy blinked back tears. Then
she turned to the rest of the team. Cam nodded at the appropriate times when Claudia told them to
get some sleep and meet tomorrow to discuss what had happened earlier. Her gaze kept returning
to him, but he managed to avoid meeting her eyes.
After she and Max left, taking the kid, Hacker slanted a cautious look at Cam. "The doc'll pull
through. He's tough."
Cam forced a smile. "Sure."
Hacker slapped Cam on the shoulder and left.
Evan's expression showed he wasn't fooled, but he must have decided to let it go for now. Voice
soft, he said, "Sometimes, hope is all you have. Hold on to it."
Recognizing the thinly veiled reference to Evan's own horrific experiences before coming to the
Institute, Cam nodded. Evan nodded back and walked away.
That left only Dixon, who watched him with a sympathetic expression he almost couldn't bear.
"What happened?"
The fragile glass shell Cam was holding around himself started to crack. "I got shot. Tristan
healed me."
Dix took his hand. "He saved you?"
Cam gave her a jerky nod. He didn't think he could manage anything more.
"Do they think he's going to make it?"
The truth tore from his throat. "I don't think it's looking good."
"Oh, Cam." Dix squeezed his hand. "Are you okay?"
Okay? Of course he wasn't fucking okay. The only man he'd ever loved, the only person who'd
ever truly loved him, was going to die because of him. But he was the chameleon. Without
changing his expression, he drew his hand out of Dixon's. "I'm tired."
She frowned. "You need to talk about this, Cam."
If he talked he'd fall apart. "Not now, and not with you." Even as he said the words, he knew they
were cruel. A part of him regretted that. Most of him just wanted to escape.
His coldness had the desired effect. Dix swallowed hard. "All right. Goodnight, then." She turned
and walked away.
Cam strode down the hall to his own room. Once inside, he curled into a ball on the couch. He
didn't cry. He couldn't. Everything inside him had iced over, leaving him empty and cold.
Tristan was dying.
Cam let the emptiness consume him. If Tristan was going to die, he never wanted to feel anything
again.

Chapter 25

The next morning, Cam left for the debriefing late. He didn't want to have any time for anyone to
ask questions or offer sympathy. Claudia had already started speaking when he arrived. He slid
into a seat at the back of the tiny room and stared at the floor, ignoring all the eyes on him.
"According to all our intel, no other groups knew about Jeremy except for us. Somehow, the
Samael Organization not only found out about him, but was able to intercept our retrieval team.
What I want to know is how?" Claudia sounded concerned, and angry. "We have to figure out
what happened before another mission goes wrong like this one did." And we lose someone else.
She didn't say the words, but she didn't have to.
Hacker spoke next, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "How's the doc? Have you heard
anything?"
Cam jerked to attention. He darted a glance up to Claudia's stern face.
"Dr. Matheson's condition has stabilized enough for him to be transported here. Other than that,
there isn't much change."
Cam closed his eyes. The tiny ray of hope that had flared to life died. He wanted to rage at the
thought of Tristan lying in a hospital bed, connected to a mass of machines, an empty shell.
Instead, he remained seated and silent, nothing but a husk himself.
He pretended to listen as Hacker reported the events of the mission from his perspective first.
Claudia asked him a few questions, and made notations in the mission log.
Evan was next. Cam tuned out the recitation of the beginning of the mission, only paying
attention again when Evan reached the part where he'd been shot. "Dr. Matheson examined the
gunshot wound, and even I could tell it was bad. The boy held a shirt against the wound to slow
the bleeding. We picked Chameleon up and got him into the van." Evan paused, cleared his
throat. "Dr. Matheson examined Chameleon again. He started to heal him. He should have
stopped, but he didn't."
Claudia frowned. "How was he able to continue? He wasn't able to heal Roger MacDonald. He
told Dr. Roget he couldn't heal anyone with injuries too severe for his body to absorb, even with
help."
Evan's gloved hands tightened into fists on his lap. "He asked the boy and me to help him. We
touched him, and he was able to draw more energy from us. After that, I don't know what
happened. I know the energy we provided wasn't enough. By the time I saw what he planned, and
understood the jumble of images in my mind, it was too late for me to stop him. He made a choice
somehow, and he was already gone by the time I realized."
"And then you began CPR?"
It took Cam several seconds to figure out Claudia was talking to him. He nodded in response.
"None of this makes sense, given what we know about Dr. Matheson's abilities." Claudia tapped
the stylus for the mission log on the table, lost in thought for a moment. She finally looked at
them again. "Hacker, Evan, you can go. Take a few days to relax. Talk to one of the counselors if
you need to. That's an order."
They left. Hacker squeezed Cam's shoulder on the way out, his face pinched with worry. Evan
just looked at him.
When they were gone, Claudia stood and moved to the chair next to Cam's. "You may not have
told me anything, but I have eyes. You and Dr. Matheson have a relationship, don't you?"
Cam didn't know what to say. We did, for a while would sound self-pitying. I love him would be
too revealing. In the end, he stared mutely at his hands, saying nothing.
Claudia's small hand covered his in a brief, gentle touch. "Go to the infirmary. Dr. Roget knows
to expect you. You can see Tristan whenever you want to."
At that moment, Cam was grateful for the emptiness he felt. Without it, Claudia's kindness would
have made him break down.

* * * *

One of the nurses guided Cam to a small, quiet room in the back of the infirmary. Tristan lay on
the bed, pale and unmoving. Dr. Roget stood over him, his hands on Tristan's forearm. Cam stood
in the doorway, uncertain.
Without turning, Dr. Roget spoke. "Come in, Cam."
Cam joined the doctor at Tristan's bedside. "How is he?"
Larry took his hands off Tristan's arm. He seemed to consider his words before he answered.
"Physically, he's weak, but improving. There's no damage to his lungs, or to anything else that I
can find." He walked to the end of the bed and made some notations on a chart. "From what I
know about his abilities, I believe the damage isn't to his body. His mind, or spirit, or whatever
you want to call it--the life force that makes him Tristan--was damaged more than his body."
Cam closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of Tristan. He of all people knew the body was little
more than a vessel. Most people looked at the surface first. Cam had spent years exploiting that
trait, but for the first time he realized that without the person inside the surface meant nothing.
He opened his eyes again. "Do you think he'll recover?"
Larry met Cam's gaze, his face tired and drawn. "I don't know. I'm doing what I can, but I don't
know how to fix a broken soul."

* * * *

Cam spent the rest of the day in the infirmary with Tristan. He sat in a chair near the bed and
watched over him. Visitors poured in: Telly and his two friends, Dixon, Spoons, most of the rest
of the field team, and nearly all the medical staff. Tristan hadn't been at the Institute long, but
everyone liked him. By the end of the day the room had accumulated an impressive collection of
flowers, cards, and stuffed animals.
Near the end of what Larry had proclaimed to be the visiting hours, Evan showed up. He
approached the side of the bed nearest the door, opposite where Cam sat. Rather than speaking, he
removed one of his leather gloves. He put his bare, pale hand on Tristan's forehead like a parent
checking for fever. His brow furrowed, then smoothed.
At last, when Cam couldn't take the silence for another second, Evan glanced at Cam. "I don't
know what's going to happen. I can't tell you he'll be fine. I can tell you he's still in there,
somewhere. What I felt was only a flicker, but it's there."
Cam swallowed hard against a surge of hope and joy and terror. If Tristan was still there, maybe
he could be reached. Cam couldn't allow himself to consider the alternative, that the flicker of life
Evan had felt would fade away.
He couldn't smile, but he thought Evan would understand. "Thank you."
Evan nodded. He turned to go. At the doorway, he paused. "The mind can endure a lot more than
people think. Give him a reason to find his way back."
All I have is myself. But what if I'm not enough?

* * * *

For the next few days, Cam did his best to give Tristan a reason to come back to him. He spent
nearly every minute with Tristan, awake or asleep. During the day, he sat at Tristan's bedside,
holding his hand and talking to him. When he couldn't think of anything to say, he sang, or read
to him.
He left Tristan only when Larry ordered him to. Each night he returned in time to sleep in
Tristan's room. Larry and the nurses turned a blind eye to Cam's overnight stays. They didn't even
bother to bring in a cot for propriety's sake. As long as Cam curled up on the opposite side as
Tristan's IV, they let him sleep beside Tristan. Cam overheard Larry tell one of the nurses it might
be good for Tristan to have someone with him.
As time passed, the hope Cam had tried to cultivate began to fade. He kept talking to Tristan, and
touching him, but he couldn't help thinking he just wasn't enough. Maybe nothing would be
enough. Maybe Tristan would still be slipping away no matter who he was, or what he said.

Cam knew his friends were worried about him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't lift
his gaze from the bed at the quiet swish of the door opening and closing.
"How are you holding up?"
Dix. She'd come in a couple of days before and tried to get him to take a break. She had to be
back for another try. Shoulders tensing, he muttered, "I'm fine."
"Well, you look like shit." She stopped beside him. "You need to take better care of yourself.
Come eat something with me, and maybe take a nap at your place afterward. You can come back
tomorrow morning."
"No."
Her voice turned beseeching. "You know Tristan wouldn't want you doing this to yourself." She
put a hand on his shoulder. "It's been days with no change. You can't stay here forever."
He shrugged off the gentle touch. "I'm not leaving him, Dix."
Dixon looked like she wanted to argue, but instead bit her lip and stepped back. "Okay. You want
me to bring you something to eat?"
He didn't want food. He wanted to be left alone. "No, thanks."
Her face crumpled a little, like she wanted to cry. Being Dix, she didn't. Instead, she took a deep
breath and nodded. "All right. But I'm coming back tomorrow and you will eat breakfast, or else."
"I promise to eat with you tomorrow. Are you happy now?" He forced a smile.
The expression must not have been convincing, because she didn't smile back. "No, but it's a
start." She started to say something else, reconsidered, and finally ended with, "I'll see you
tomorrow."
"Sure." He returned his gaze to the bed until he heard the door click shut. Then he closed his eyes
and scrubbed his hands over his eyelids, trying to ease the gritty, burning exhaustion. When he
opened them and saw Tristan lying there, as pale and lifeless as before, helpless anger filled him.
"Damn you. All I wanted was to protect you. Why didn't you let me?"
His anger didn't last long. Hopeless weariness blunted it. His eyes prickled with tears he refused
to let fall. Lowering his head to rest against Tristan's side, he closed his eyes and began to talk.
Sometime later, Cam awoke abruptly, not sure when he'd fallen asleep or what had awakened
him. He opened his eyes to white walls and the dim, diffuse light of early morning. His cheek
rested on a scratchy, woven surface--a hospital blanket. He'd fallen asleep in the hard plastic
visitors' chair with his head on Tristan's leg, apparently.
He closed his eyes again, not wanting to face the day yet. The refuge of sleep would allow him to
deny cold, hard reality a little longer. Despite the uncomfortable position, he started to doze off
once more.
A gentle touch to his hair jerked him back to awareness. He froze, hardly daring to breathe as the
touch came again, firmer. The hand stroking his hair could only belong to one person.
Slowly, terrified to find it had been a dream, Cam turned his head.
Tristan's green eyes were open and alert, and watching him. Cam had never seen anything better
in his life. He wanted to say something, anything, but emotion clogged his throat. Tears sprang to
his eyes. He blinked them back, determined to be strong. If he hadn't cried when he thought
Tristan would die, he sure as hell wasn't going to now.
What finally came out was an inane remark. "You're awake." Cam was up and holding Tristan in
his arms before he even realized he'd moved. He buried his face in Tristan's neck, trying without
success to compose himself.
Tristan rubbed his back with the only hand he could move. "Hey. None of that." His voice was
barely a croak, but he was talking.
Cam pulled away. "Let me get you something to drink." He poured Tristan a small plastic cup of
water.
Tristan accepted the cup with a shaky hand. He took a sip and coughed. "How long have I been
here?"

"Five days." Cam looked down at his hands. "I was starting to think you weren't coming back."
When he spoke again, Tristan sounded thoughtful. "I almost didn't, I think. I was lost, and there
was pain. I felt like I could float away from it all. I wanted to. Then I heard your voice."
"I'm glad you did. I missed you. So much." Cam managed a smile, despite his trembling lips.
Tristan's eyes nearly glowed with happiness. He reached for Cam's hand.
The moment of truth had come. Cam knew that, even though part of him wanted to wait. The
longer he put this off, the harder it would be. He had to trust Tristan, trust himself. Reassuring
himself that Tristan loved him didn't help. Tristan didn't know him.
Instead of taking Tristan's offered hand, he held his up to ward him off. "Wait. I should be going
to get Larry right now, or kissing you, or something, but I can't until I do what I should have done
a long time ago."
Tristan watched him, brow creased with worry. He looked like he wanted to speak, but he said
nothing.
Cam scooted forward in his chair and met Tristan's gaze. "There's someone you need to meet."
Voice cautious, Tristan said, "All right."
Taking a deep breath, Cam shifted. He held out his hand to Tristan to shake. "Hi. I'm Jason
Ward."

Chapter 26

"Jason." Tristan took the hand Cam--Jason--offered and shook it on autopilot. The man sitting in
front of him didn't look that different than he had before. Overall, he was bigger. Not fat, or
bulky, but more muscled and solid. His hair was darker, an ashy blond rather than the gold Tristan
was used to. His nose was longer, and had a distinct bump on the bridge. His mouth was a little
wider.
The most dramatic change was in his eyes. The bright blue was gone, replaced by a deeper, darker
gray that lacked the breezy confidence he usually showed. Cam was the elegant, fashion model
perfect version. Jason was the reality. Flawed, perhaps, but all the more wonderful because of it.
Why had he hidden himself?
As the silence stretched between them, Jason lowered his head. He started to stand. "I'm sorry. I'll
go."
"Don't. Stay." Tristan caught Jason's hand. He didn't let go, even after Jason sat again. "I'm not
angry at you. I'm just surprised."
"Yeah, I can see that." Jason gazed down at their clasped hands. Tristan could see his throat
working as he swallowed hard. When he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Are you disappointed?"
"Disappointed?" Tristan brought Jason's hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.
"Of course not. I love you. Not your face, or your shapeshifting. You." He grinned. "I think I
could grow to like those muscles, though."
Jason grinned back, the expression identical to his roguish grin as Cam.
Staring at Jason, Tristan remembered something. "You tried to show me. The day we did the test,
and went back to my place afterward. I thought you just made up a generic bad guy, but you were
showing me yourself."
"I didn't want to hide from you anymore," Jason admitted. "But I was afraid you'd be mad about
all my lies, or that you wouldn't like the real me."
"I told you I wanted to be with the real you." Guilt washed over Tristan at the memory of what
he'd said, and Cam's strange reaction. "I rejected you. I'm sorry."

"How could you have known? I went to a lot of trouble to keep the real me from you and
everyone else."
"Everyone?" Tristan frowned. "You mean nobody knew?"
"You're the first person to see me in a long time."
Tristan watched Jason's stormy eyes darken and felt a surge of protectiveness. "How long?"
"Fifteen years."
Fifteen years? Jason couldn't be older than thirty. Tristan doubted he was that old. "What
happened?
"Life." Jason shrugged. "My mom abandoned me when I was four. She took me to a fast food
place and bought me a kids' meal. She told me to eat and not to get up until she came back, then
she left. I remember wanting to go into the play area so badly, but I didn't. I sat there for hours,
exactly where she'd left me, until one of the employees found me. My mom never came back."
No matter how unsettled Tristan's life had been, with his parents constantly moving the family to
protect him from people who would try to exploit him, at least he'd had their love. Jason hadn't
had that. Tristan squeezed his hand in a silent show of sympathy, but didn't interrupt.
After a moment, Jason resumed his story. "I went into foster care after that. I really liked the
parents I had when I was six. They wanted a boy with brown hair and eyes. Every night, I prayed
to be what they wanted so they'd adopt me. One day I looked in the mirror and I had brown hair
and eyes. I thought they'd be happy."
"But they weren't."
Jason shook his head. "My foster mom got upset. She called Social Services to come get me."
"Oh, no." Tristan could only imagine how alone Jason had felt, six years old and faced with a
power he didn't understand or know how to control.
"Over the next few years I was in and out of different foster homes. I never found a place I really
liked. The last place, when I was thirteen, was... bad. The guy was an alcoholic, and his wife
didn't care what he did as long as the state kept writing checks." Jason's fingertips moved to brush
along the bridge of his nose. "The last time he hit me he broke my nose."
Restless, Jason slid his hand out of Tristan's grip and stood. He walked to the sink and got a cup
of water, which he downed in one swallow. Tristan waited, knowing how hard this had to be.
Finally, Jason continued, speaking quickly as if he wanted to finish as soon as possible. "I ran
away. For about a year, I lived on the street. I stole whatever I could. By then, I'd figured out how
to control my shifting better, and I created my new self. A scouting team from the Institute found
me then." He let out a rueful laugh. "I didn't trust them at first, but they kept showing up
everywhere and wore me down. They didn't push me to tell them anything, though. I figured it
was my chance to be whoever or whatever I wanted. I became Chameleon and never looked
back."
"Nobody here knows who you are?" The idea was almost inconceivable.
"No. Not even Claudia." Jason stared at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. "I don't
think I really know who I am anymore. I've been Cam so long."
"You're still Cam."
Jason's laugh was anything but happy. "Cam was a mask I put on, attractive and confident and
funny. Inside I was always different."
"Jason." When Jason's gaze met his from across the room, Tristan smiled. "The confidence, the
sense of humor, that was all you. All the friends you've made here don't like you for your looks. I
don't think you realize this, but you're attractive the way you are. So you're not pretty-boy perfect.
You're sexy and you're real. Exactly what I always wanted."
The sweet little smile he got in return told him Jason might be starting to believe him. For Jason
to put himself on the line like he had showed an astonishing level of trust, especially for a man
accustomed to being abandoned and mistreated. Tristan could only hope to be worthy of Jason's
faith in him.

At the soft sound of approaching footsteps, Jason twisted his head toward the door. He looked
back at Tristan, his lips turning up into a wry look. "I'm sorry. I don't want to do this right now."
His face blurred, and in moments shy Jason had been replaced by calm, confident Cam. He still
looked tired, but more comfortable in his camouflage. He came back to Tristan's side and perched
on the edge of the hard plastic chair. His bright blue eyes were sad.
Tristan brought a hand up to touch Cam's familiar face. It was hard to reconcile the flirty,
seductive Cam with quiet, uncertain Jason, yet they were one and the same. He'd wanted to know
the man inside, and he realized he already did. Jason's true self had shown through over and over
again, even when he tried to hide it. He might not be ready to announce his true identity to
everyone. Maybe he never would be. As long as he was himself with Tristan, Tristan would be
happy. "It's okay."
The door opened, admitting Dr. Roget and one of the nurses, thankfully not Cindy. They talked
quietly, not noticing anything until they reached the bed. Then Larry glanced down, and his eyes
widened. "You're awake! Thank God." He hurried to Tristan's side, going into examination mode.
Jason smiled and moved out of the way. Tristan allowed Larry to take his vital signs and fuss over
him without protest. He knew Jason would be waiting for him when they finally let him go home.

* * * *

By the time Larry, the nurses, and a couple of the scientists finished testing, poking, and prodding
Tristan, he felt like climbing the walls. The sight of Claudia in the doorway of the tiny room
they'd pushed him into between tests was a welcome distraction.
She strode into the room, coming to a halt next to the exam table he sat on. "How are you
feeling?"
"I'm fine."
"We're all relieved to see you recovering." She watched him, unsmiling, her eyes unreadable. "I
believe Chameleon, in particular, would have taken it very hard if you hadn't."
Something in her tone, although noncommittal, implied that she knew more than she was saying,
which shouldn't surprise him. She seemed to know everything that went on at the Institute. Since
her comment didn't require a reply, he said nothing.
Claudia raised an eyebrow. "I trust you won't be tempted to use your abilities in such a reckless
way in the future?"
He met her gaze and answered honestly. "I don't plan to, but if I had it to do over again I'd do the
same thing."
"I thought as much." Her lips quirked into a slight smile. "Chameleon's been running himself into
exhaustion watching over you. Take him home. I don't want to see either of you at training for at
least a week."
Tristan grinned. "That I can promise you."

* * * *

Freed from tests at last, Tristan made his way back to the room he'd been in that morning. He
pushed the door open, and at first he thought Jason had gone. After a brief stab of disappointment,
he spotted a seated figure slumped against the wall, asleep. Jason must have finally succumbed to
his exhaustion.
Even in sleep, he remained in his shifted form. Did he have to consciously shift to become
someone else, even himself, or was his control so rigid he didn't show his true form no matter
what? If it was the latter, he must have spent a lot of time and effort staying Cam all the time.
A surge of tenderness filled Tristan. He crossed the room and brushed a lock of hair out of Jason's
eyes. "Hey. Ready to go?"
Blue eyes blinked up at him, sleepy and confused. Then a slow smile lit Jason's face. "Yeah. Your
place?"
"Sounds wonderful. I don't know how I'm tired after lying around for days, but I am." Tristan
offered Jason a hand up, which he accepted.

Jason laughed. "Oh, sure. You were just lying around."
Tristan expected Jason to release his hand when they got out of the room, but he didn't. He twined
his fingers through Tristan's and held on.
Somehow, they managed to make their way to Tristan's apartment without running into anyone.
Part of the reason had to be the seldom-used corridor Jason took to get out of the infirmary area,
but the rest had to be good luck. At Tristan's door, they heard voices approaching.
Jason made a shh sound and put a finger to his lips. Trying not to burst out laughing, Tristan
hurriedly unlocked his door. They rushed through it just as two people rounded the corner, but
Jason shut the door before Tristan could see who was coming.
Several long, breathless moments passed before Tristan gave in to his laughter. "We are so
stealthy."
Jason grinned, the patented Cam-grin. "I'm like the wind, baby."
That set Tristan off again.
When his chuckles finally stopped, Tristan stepped closer to Jason. He traced his fingertips over
Jason's hands and up his arms. The mood shifted from amused to aroused in seconds.
His gaze uncharacteristically serious, Jason caught Tristan's hands. "I want to make love to you."
His hands weren't quite steady as he added, "As myself."
Jason was still so unsure. Tristan melted. "I want that, too."
Jason's features blurred. Through their joined hands, Tristan felt a quick, strong burst of emotion:
love, fear, desire, and a fierce hope. Tristan's own emotions ran along the same lines. They were
about to do something they'd done many times before. This time would be both familiar and
different, and Tristan's heart raced with anticipation and nerves.
Shifted, Jason's smile held a tinge of uncertainty. "We could just sleep, if you're too tired. Or if
you need some more time."
Tristan shook his head. "I'm not that tired, and I don't need more time. I need to be with you."
Jason's darker eyes heated. "I need you, too. You don't even know how much I missed you. Not
just over the past few days, either." He wrapped his arms around Tristan's waist and drew him
closer. His lips turned up in a rueful smile. "I have a confession to make. That night at the bar,
with that guy? I was only trying to make you jealous. I felt so bad about what a dick I was being I
went back to the hotel alone right after you left."
Knowing Jason hadn't slept with the guy was nice. Tristan wouldn't have been able to complain if
he had, since they weren't together at the time, but he was glad to hear the news anyway. He
smiled and leaned into Jason's muscled chest. "It worked. I was jealous."
Apparently tired of talking, Jason lowered his head to kiss Tristan. Their lips met and clung, the
contact soft at first. Then Jason made a tiny sound deep in his throat, and his tongue slipped
between Tristan's parted lips. Tristan whimpered at the slick slide of Jason's tongue along his
own. He kissed Jason back, sucking at his tongue and nipping his lip. The sudden desire for more,
now, took him by surprise.
Weeks apart and a near-death experience for both of them added to Tristan's touch-starved state.
He slid his hands up Jason's wide chest to curl around his neck. The body felt a little different
than what he was used to, but the spicy, clean male scent he'd always associated with Cam was
the same. So was the devouring passion that rose up between them.
Jason broke away to kiss Tristan's jaw and neck. "God, Tris. You feel so good."
"Want you," Tristan whispered back. "Want to touch you."
Jason pulled back enough to meet Tristan's eyes. "Let's go to the bedroom."
Tristan nodded and grabbed Jason's hand, which felt large and strong in his own. He practically
bolted down the hall, dragging Jason behind him. He couldn't wait to explore the body under
Jason's clothes. He'd have to learn it all over again, but he was looking forward to the journey.

In the bedroom, Jason hesitated in the doorway as if uncertain of his welcome. Tristan turned
them so that Jason's back was to the bed and pushed the bigger man backward until his knees hit
the bed. Jason's eyes widened in a comical expression of surprise, and he fell onto the mattress.
Tristan laughed and climbed up to straddle Jason's hips. "You have no idea how often I dreamed
of this over the past few weeks."
Without waiting for a reply, Tristan gripped the hem of Jason's shirt and pushed the garment up,
exposing a muscled stomach that was less defined than it had been before, but no less appealing.
Tristan traced his fingertips up the smooth, warm skin, loving the slight layer of padding over the
tight abs, and the dusting of hair across the pecs. "You're so sexy."
Jason sucked in a breath and lifted his shoulders so Tristan could pull his shirt off. Tristan tossed
the shirt to the floor and kept going, exploring Jason's chest and broad shoulders. A few scars
marred his body, and Tristan leaned down to kiss one of them.
Jason shivered under his ministrations. "I got that on my third mission. Knife graze."
Tristan shifted down a bit and moved to another, smaller scar, this one on his side near the
waistband of his jeans. "What about this one?"
"I fell onto a sharp stick during recess. I think I was nine. The other kids flipped out."
Tristan smiled against Jason's skin, making him shiver again. "Let me kiss it better."
He put his words to action, teasing along Jason's waistband with tiny kisses and nibbles. Tristan
stroked a palm over Jason's erection, and even through the jeans he could feel it jump. Needing
more skin, he unfastened the jeans and peeled them open.
"Aren't you wearing too many clothes?" Despite his protest, Jason tried to lift his hips to help
Tristan remove his jeans.
Tristan stood and stripped them off. "Nah. I'm good, for now." He looked down at the body he'd
uncovered, a flare of heat starting low in his belly. Jason was incredible. Tristan didn't know why
Jason had believed his own body wouldn't be sexy enough to attract men. While Tristan had
admired the sleek perfection of Cam, Jason's burlier form was even more attractive.
Tristan's gaze stopped at Jason's hard cock, which stood tall and proud--taller and prouder than he
expected. He grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Did you actually make yourself smaller as Cam?"
Jason blushed. "Yeah. A little."
"I wasn't disappointed before, but now, I'm impressed." Tristan couldn't stop grinning. Only Jason
would create a version of himself with a smaller penis. Anyone who thought he was vain would
have to reconsider if they knew the truth. In his true form, his erection was a thing of beauty:
long, and with just enough thickness over the average that Tristan knew he'd feel fuller than he
ever had when it was inside him. The memory of his night with Jason after his test with Dix sent a
frisson of anticipation through him.
Ready for a more intimate exploration, Tristan knelt on the carpet between Jason's spread knees.
He ran his palms up Jason's thighs, relishing wiry hair, warm skin, and hard muscle. Jason's dick
twitched in anticipation, a milky pearl of pre-cum appearing at the tip. Unable to resist, Tristan
lapped the bead off.
Jason moaned. "Touch me. Please?"
Tristan didn't waste any more time teasing. He leaned forward and took Jason's thick cock into his
mouth. Curling a hand around the base, he worked the head with his lips and tongue.
Jason sucked in a breath and threaded a hand through Tristan's hair. "God, that feels good."
Tristan pulled off enough to say, "You can move," before swallowing Jason's erection down
again.
The sound Jason made could only be called a whimper. His hand tightened in Tristan's hair to
hold him in place and he bucked up, fucking Tristan's mouth.
Tristan happily surrendered. His jaw stretched wide to accommodate Jason's girth. His scalp
tingled from the force of Jason's grip. The small discomfort somehow increased his pleasure.

Gasps and groans escaped Jason. His obvious pleasure added to Tristan's own arousal. Tristan
pushed the heel of one hand against his erection, willing his body to be patient. To distract
himself, he focused on Jason--the heat of his body, the strength of his hands, his musky male
scent, the sexy sounds he made...
Tristan didn't have to distract himself for long. Jason tugged at Tristan's hair lightly, forcing him
to stop. "I want you."
Tristan stood. Jason followed suit somewhat unsteadily and pressed his lips to Tristan's. His
hands went to Tristan's shirt, which he managed to pull off with barely a break in the kiss. Next,
he attacked the button on Tristan's jeans. He got it unfastened and pushed jeans and boxers down
Tristan's thighs. His big, warm hands smoothed down Tristan's legs, making Tristan shiver at the
sensation.
The pants landed on the floor with a dull thud. Tristan toed off his shoes and stepped out of the
tangle of clothing. As if drawn by magnets, he moved into Jason's arms. He closed his eyes at the
first moment of skin-to-skin contact. It felt like coming home, in some indefinable way.
For a long moment, Jason held him tight. His lips brushed against Tristan's cheek. Then Tristan
shifted, bringing his aching erection into contact with Jason's. The sweet moment was broken,
replaced with pure heat.
Jason maneuvered Tristan over to the bed, and they scrambled onto the mattress. Tristan ended up
on his back with Jason half-lying on top of him, their mouths fused together. Jason's hands
mapped Tristan's chest, stomach, and sides before finally grasping his cock.
Tristan whimpered into Jason's mouth, pushing up into Jason's grip. He mumbled, "Need you.
Please."
Still stroking Tristan's dick, Jason fumbled for lube and a condom. The drawer almost came off
its track, but he found what he was looking for. He dropped the condom onto Tristan's stomach
and popped the cap on the lube.
A cold, slick finger teased Tristan's entrance, and he hissed. "Yes." It had been too long.
Jason rubbed the lubricant over and around Tristan's hole, driving him crazy. He squirmed, trying
to get Jason's finger inside him, but Jason wouldn't be hurried. He teased and tormented Tristan's
balls with slippery fingers.
Tristan's whole body throbbed with need. "Jason."
Two fingers found his entrance, sank in to the hilt. Jason pulled them out and pushed back in,
curling his fingers as he did so. Pleasure sparked through Tristan, but it wasn't enough. He arched,
whimpering.
"What do you need, Tris?"
Meeting Jason's gaze, Tristan whispered, "You. Just you."
Heat and emotion kindled in Jason's stormy eyes. "You've got me. For as long as you want me."
Tristan couldn't hold back a sigh of disappointment as Jason removed his fingers. When he saw
that Jason had done so in order to open the condom, he didn't mind as much. He watched Jason
fumble to tear the foil packet, then roll the thin latex onto his straining erection with trembling
fingers.
Finally, Jason positioned himself between Tristan's spread thighs. "Are you ready?"
Tristan nodded.
Jason pressed forward, the thick head of his cock breaching Tristan's hole. Tristan gasped at the
burn. "More."
Jason gave him what he asked for, pushing forward in a steady, controlled thrust. He didn't stop
until they were completely joined. It was uncomfortable at first, but Tristan's body slowly
adjusted to the unaccustomed fullness. Desire, hot and wild, rose up suddenly. He curled a hand
around Jason's nape, bringing him down for a scorching kiss.
Jason took control of the kiss. He devoured Tristan's mouth with lips and teeth and tongue. They
stayed that way, locked together, for what felt like forever before Jason began to move. He drew

back and snapped his hips forward, his mouth swallowing Tristan's cry. One of his hands went to
Tristan's hip, lifting him enough to change the angle slightly.
Each thrust sent escalating ripples of pleasure through Tristan. He tangled his hands in Jason's
hair and clung, overwhelmed. Nothing existed but Jason's mouth on his, Jason's cock driving into
him, and the rising spiral of need in Tristan's body.
Another strong thrust struck Tristan in just the right way, and he exploded. His orgasm blinded
him to everything but the waves of ecstasy pouring through him. His back arched, breaking the
kiss, and his hips snapped up to meet Jason.
Jason gripped Tristan's hips in a near-painful grasp and pounded into him a few more times
before collapsing onto Tristan's chest. He buried his face in Tristan's neck, his breaths coming fast
and hard.
They lay quiet for several minutes. Tristan gathered enough energy to wrap his arms around
Jason's broad shoulders. He closed his eyes and nuzzled Jason's hair, comforted by the familiar
fresh, woodsy scent of it.
Jason's lips moved against Tristan's neck. "I love you."
Tristan tightened his arms. Emotion threatened to clog his throat. He swallowed it back. "I love
you, too, Jason."
He couldn't see Jason's face, but he felt Jason's lips turn up in a smile.

Chapter 27

Jason woke to a warm, solid presence curled into his side. He opened his eyes and smiled, happy
to be awake for the first time in weeks. Tristan lay beside him, sound asleep. Sometime during the
night, Tristan had rolled over so his back was to Jason, but he hadn't moved away. Even in sleep,
he stayed close.
He could hardly believe Tristan was here. Not only was Tristan alive and well, but he still wanted
Jason after finding out Jason had basically been living a lie for more than a decade. Tristan's
acceptance made believing that others would accept him a little bit easier--and made him wonder
how he'd lived like he had for all this time. He'd been letting childhood hurts control him for too
long. It had taken a determined healer with a huge capacity for love and forgiveness to show him
life could be different.
Weak morning light streamed through the half-open blinds. A thin shaft illuminated Tristan's
tousled black hair. Jason pushed the lock behind Tristan's ear with a gentle fingertip.
Tristan shifted toward the touch. He made a tiny sound, almost like a kitten, and opened his eyes.
Jason experienced a few seconds of self-doubt as Tristan gazed at him. Would he have any regrets
about the night before? Would he wish he was with Cam rather than Jason?
From the way Tristan's green eyes brightened as his lips curved into a smile, Jason figured the
answer was no.
"Good morning," Tristan whispered.
Jason couldn't have resisted smiling back if he'd wanted to. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
Yawning, Tristan stretched, looking even more like a sleepy kitten than he had before. "I feel
fine. Great, actually." He finished his stretch and rolled over to face Jason. "How about you?"
"I wasn't the one who was in a coma for days. All I needed was some sleep."
Tristan's smile turned sly. "Is that all you needed?"
If he'd had any doubt about Tristan's acceptance, it would be gone now. With a laugh, Jason dared
to tease him. "Yep. Just sleep. Nothing else."
Tristan's eyes widened with mock outrage. "Nothing else?"

"Well, maybe food and water... " Jason's words dissolved into laughter as Tristan dug his fingers
into his side and tickled him. He caught Tristan's hands and brought them to his lips, a sense of
deep contentment filling him. "But the most important thing is you."
Seeming at a loss for words, Tristan slid his hands to Jason's shoulders and drew him in for
another kiss. Jason went willingly, deepening the contact. The morning erection he'd been
ignoring clamored for attention as Tristan brushed against it.
Tristan must have known where Jason's thoughts had gone, because he took both their cocks into
one hand and stroked. He hissed. "Have I ever told you I love your cock?"
The sound that escaped Jason was half chuckle, half moan. "You have now. Don't stop doing
that."
"Don't worry." Tristan tightened his grip.
Jason wrapped a hand around Tristan's. Together, they stroked themselves and each other, first
slowly and then faster. The sweet friction of Tristan's hand, and Tristan's silky-hard dick against
his own, drove Jason crazy. Within minutes Jason's hips moved in shallow, involuntary thrusts,
and he was panting.
Tristan appeared to be in the same state he was. A pink flush spread up Tristan's chest, and his
breathing was labored. His green eyes met Jason's, bright with arousal and love. "Come with me."
The quiet request and the look in Tristan's eyes were too much to resist. "Tris." Holding their eye
contact, Jason came, semen spurting between them.
Tristan gasped. His erection twitched in Jason's hand, and thick, hot liquid poured from him,
coating their hands.
They both stilled for a moment, staring at each other. Satisfaction and happiness were written all
over Tristan's face, and Jason knew it had to be on his own as well.
The sensation of cooling cum rolling down his hand took Jason out of the moment. "Maybe we
should shower."
Tristan wrinkled his nose and glanced down at the large wet spot on the mattress. "And change
the sheets."
Jason followed his gaze and laughed. "And change the sheets. But let's shower first. I don't think
I'm finished with you yet."
Grinning, Tristan slid out of bed. "I like the sound of that."

* * * *

Later, after a quick trip to his place for some clothes, Jason returned to Tristan's. They'd just
settled in on the couch to watch a movie when the sharp rap of a knock on the door split the
silence.
Tristan frowned, his expression puzzled. "Who could that be?"
Jason had a pretty good idea. "Everybody was worried about you. I bet you're going to have a lot
of visitors over the next couple of days."
"Oh. Hmm." Tristan got up and went to answer the door.
Several voices came from the other room, including Dixon's squeals of delight. A sudden,
paralyzing attack of nerves hit. Jason clenched his fists and took a deep breath. There would be
enough excitement with Tristan waking up. Jason didn't think he could deal with everyone seeing
him just yet.
He closed his eyes, and with a silent apology to Tristan, shifted. In seconds, he'd be Cam again.
Almost. He wondered if anyone would notice the difference.
The voices came closer. Jason opened his eyes in time to see Tristan enter, followed by Dix,
Spoons, and Telly. Despite his fear of Tristan's reaction to his cowardice, Jason didn't look away
when Tristan's gaze met his. Instead of the condemnation he expected, he saw only
understanding, and what looked like pride.
Dix was still talking. "Everyone was worried about you." She cast a half accusing, half fond
glance at Jason. "We were worried about Cam, too. He wouldn't leave you for anything."

Jason's cheeks heated, but for once he didn't bother to disguise the reaction.
"I knew he was there," Tristan said quietly, his eyes never leaving Jason's face. The words meant
a lot more than their surface meanings. Jason could hear the love and devotion underlying them.
It never occurred to him to hide his feelings from everyone. He held out a hand to Tristan. When
Tristan clasped it, he kissed Tristan's knuckles.
"You guys." Dixon's voice had a distinctly watery sound, as if she tried not to cry. When Jason
looked at her, she was wiping at her eyes, probably trying to hide the fact that she was a romantic
under her tough exterior. She shouldn't have bothered. Jason had known about her secret romantic
streak for years.
Telly, on the other hand, sounded amused and pleased. "I'm guessing you two made up."
Tristan smiled. "Yeah."
Ever perceptive, Telly crossed the room and gave Tristan a quick hug. "I just wanted to make sure
you were okay, Doc. I'll see you later."
Tristan hugged Telly back. "Thanks for stopping by."
Telly stepped away and turned to go. At the doorway, he stopped and glanced back at them,
grinning. "Oh, and Ned and Dean said they wanted to kick your ass at pool again as soon as you
feel up to it."
Everyone laughed. Tristan's lack of skill had become common knowledge around the Institute.
Not bothered, Tristan joined in the laughter. "Tell them they're on. Friday night."
"Will do."
Telly left. Dixon crossed the room to offer Tristan a hug of her own. She whispered something in
his ear that made him laugh again.
Not wanting to get involved in a soppy conversation with Dix, Jason stood and went to the
kitchen. He got a soda out of the refrigerator and popped the tab.
Spoons, who'd been silent the whole time, followed him. "Can I have one of those?"
Jason grabbed another can and passed it over. "I never thanked you for your advice."
The big man shrugged. He opened his soda and took a sip. "No thanks necessary."
"Well, I'm thanking you anyway." For being a friend. For making him think. For being there.
Jason tapped his soda against Spoons's in a toast.
Spoons seemed to take the thanks in the spirit it was intended. He nodded. "You're welcome."
Dix came into the kitchen. She grinned at Spoons. "I think these two lovebirds need some time
alone. Ready to go?"
"Yeah." Spoons finished his drink in one long swallow and set the can on the countertop. "See
you later, Cam."
"See you."
With a smirk, Dix inclined her head toward the door. "We'll see ourselves out." She grabbed
Spoons's arm and pulled him away.
Jason rolled his eyes. He loved his friends, but sometimes they could be annoying. This time,
though, Dix's idea was genius. Right now he was more than ready to spend some more alone time
with Tristan.
He found Tristan on the couch. He took a seat next to Tristan, drawing his lover into his arms.
"Where were we?"
Tristan smiled and traced a fingertip over Jason's cheekbone. "You have the most beautiful eyes. I
thought Cam's were gorgeous, but yours are better."
Jason had his answer. Nobody else had seemed to notice Cam's darker eyes, but of course Tristan
would. "My hair's a little darker, too. Baby steps."

* * * *

Tristan gazed into Jason's stormy eyes. His lover had a lot more courage than he gave himself
credit for. Life as Cam had been safe, comfortable. Life as Jason would mean starting over in
some ways, and taking risks.

"Baby steps sound good."
Jason clasped Tristan's hand. "It might be pretty tough at times. Will you take them with me?"
There was no doubt on Jason's face. He asked the question fully assured of Tristan's answer.
Even so, Tristan said it aloud. "Of course. That's what people do when they love each other."
There were never any guarantees in life. Jason would make mistakes, and so would he, but
Tristan was ready to take the risk right along with him.

Cassandra Gold

By day, Cassandra is a (relatively) mild-mannered middle school teacher. At night, she lets the
characters in her head out to play as she writes stories of men falling in love. Unfortunately for
her husband, neither of Cassandra's personas enjoys doing housework.
For more information on Cassandra, please visit her website at: http://www.cassandragold.com

* * * *

Don't miss Quinn's Heart, by Cassandra Gold,

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Quinn Delaney has never had much luck with men. Shy and uncomfortable with his height, he's
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Then he meets Josh.
Being dumped by his high-maintenance boyfriend a couple of weeks before a trip to Disney World
isn't what Josh Hart had planned, but he's determined not to let it get him down. Rebooked on a
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he meets shy, sexy Quinn, but the man is clueless about his own appeal.
If Quinn wants to catch the man of his dreams, he'll have to be willing to risk the one thing he's
never put on the line before--his heart.

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