Cassandra Gold The Institute 1 Healer

NSTITUTE

, B

OOK

I: H

EALER

… 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…

LSO

ASSANDRA

OLD

Clay’s Challenge

Quinn’s Hart

THE INSTITUTE, BOOK I:

HEALER

CASSANDRA GOLD

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

NSTITUTE

, B

OOK

I: H

ELAER

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

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

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.

ISBN 978-1-61124-198-3

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To my mom and dad, for reading to me.

HEALER

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.”

HEALER

“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

HEALER

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

HEALER

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.

HEALER

“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,

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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.

HEALER

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

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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.

HEALER

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

HEALER

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

HEALER

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

HEALER

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.

HEALER

“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

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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

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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

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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.”

HEALER

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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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,

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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…

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* * *

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.

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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.”

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“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.

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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

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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

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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,

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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?”

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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.”

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“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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.”

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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

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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.

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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

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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.”

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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

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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?

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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

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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,

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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“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

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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.”

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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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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,

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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.”

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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

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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?”

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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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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?”

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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

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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

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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.”

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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.

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“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

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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

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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.

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“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

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

* * *

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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?”

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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?”

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“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.

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“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

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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

HEALER

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.

HEALER

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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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“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.

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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,

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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,

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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?”

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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.”

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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, lonely day. In reality, he had

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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?”

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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

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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

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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,

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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

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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.

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* * *

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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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* * *

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.

* * *

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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.

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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.”

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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

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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

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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.

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“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

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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

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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

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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.

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“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?”

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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

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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.”

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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

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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,

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“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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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.

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* * *

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

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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?”

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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.”

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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

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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.

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* * *

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?”

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“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

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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.

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“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.

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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“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,

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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Then the light exploded, and he saw nothing more.

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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

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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?”

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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“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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.”

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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.

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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?”

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“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.

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“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

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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.

* * *

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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

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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.”

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237

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.”

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238

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.”

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239

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

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240

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

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241

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-

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242

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

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243

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

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244

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.

HEALER

245

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.

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246

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,

HEALER

247

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.”

HEALER

248

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.

HEALER

249

“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,

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250

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.”

HEALER

251

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.

ASSANDRA

OLD

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,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Quinn Delaney has never had much luck with men. Shy and
uncomfortable with his height, he’s always tried to blend in rather
than stand out. When his former foster sister and best friend cons
him into going on a singles’ trip to Walt Disney World, Quinn is
certain he will be miserable. 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 singles’ trip, Josh intends to make the most of his first trip to

an amusement park. On the first day, 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.

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

OLD

TANDARD IN

UBLISHING

UALITY

OOKS

OTH

RINT AND

LECTRONIC

ORMATS

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