No Such Thing (30 page)

He watched her in silence for a few minutes, blood rushing hot through his veins at her erotic, single-minded pursuit of the frosty dessert. When she
neared the bottom of the glass, he cleared his throat and said, "Now that I’ve plied you with chocolate, I’ve got a question for
you."

"Ambushing me while I’m weak?" she asked in a silky voice, looking up at him through her lashes with such sultry heat that he had to
swallow hard to recover his voice. Watching her pink tongue flick out to lick the spoon didn’t help.

He swore under his breath in desperation then stared at the ceiling until he remembered what he’d wanted to ask. "Why did you leave the
Odyssey?"

She stared at him for a moment, her sultry expression easing into wariness. Then she set the glass and spoon aside with care and faced him with a faint
crease between her brows. "I told you why in my message. The Institute insisted that I make the transfer."

"You didn’t say that in your message," Declan responded with certainty. Even after all these years, ever word of the thing was branded on
his brain. Nowhere in it had she mentioned the transfer.

The crease between her brows deepened. "Yes I did. I still wouldn’t have left, but they made an oblique threat to your well being, which led me
to understand that they were responsible for my mother’s condition. Once I realized the lengths they were willing to go to keep me under their
control, I felt I had to leave to protect everyone I cared about. I meant to return to the Institute and set them straight, but until then I needed to make
sure you and the crew of the
Odyssey
were safe."

"None of that was in your message either," he said with exasperation and the beginnings of a burning anger. As an excuse for her cold and
careless behavior, it was flimsy as hell. "Why would the Institute threaten me?"

She put her hands on hips, eyes narrowing at him. "Because they knew how much I cared about you. They didn’t like how independent I’d
become and blamed you for it. They used my feelings for you to rein me back in." She paused, folding her arms across her chest. "And I would
have told you all of this if you’d answered my calls or returned my messages."

"What calls and messages?" he sneered. "Don’t tell me you’re gonna try to use technical problems to snow your way out of
this. I know for a fact that the
Odyssey’s
com system was working just sarkin’ fine. You were the one avoiding me, lady."

"Excuse me?" she gasped in outrage. "I tried for days to get through to you! You ignored my every—" She froze, eyes wide.
"Wait…what did my message say?"

He gritted his teeth, staring at her with bitter fury. Repeating it seemed like the final insult. "You know what it said," he ground out.

"Did it say I loved you?" she asked in a careful tone, eyes fiercely intent on him.

He snorted. "Hell, no. You said sorry you couldn’t see me anymore because the Institute didn’t approve. You wanted me to forgive you and
move on. You wished me the
best,"
he finished with a curl of his lip.

She paled as if he’d slapped her and covered her face with her hands, whispering, "Hoti."

At the sight of her distress, his anger eased and he frowned at her. "What?"

"Eban Hoti," she said in a bitter, broken voice. With a sigh, she pressed her fingertips into her eyes and continued, "The
Destiny’s
telenetic. The Institute’s poster boy. He hated me, enough not to have a qualm about blocking my calls or changing my
messages." She lowered her hands and wrapped her arms around herself, meeting his gaze with dark regret and a rueful smile. "We’ve been
had, Declan McCrae."

"You’re telling me," he said slowly, hands clenching hard on the edge of the counter. "That you didn’t send that message?
That you tried to contact me?"

"Of course I did," she said in a strained, fierce voice. "I was in love with you."

"You never said so."

"Neither did you. Speaking of," she said, lips thinning as she dropped her gaze to the floor. "What exactly were your feelings, Declan?
You left fast enough yourself. I would have kept trying if you’d stayed on the
Odyssey,
but when you resigned and left, I figured that was a
pretty strong indication of your…loss of interest."

He let out a humorless chuckle, running aggravated fingers through his hair. "Interest," he repeated with a snort. "God’s mercy,
woman. The entire ship could see I was utterly gone on you. Why do you even have to ask?"

"Then why did you leave?" she asked, frowning at the floor.

"Because you told me to move on, wished me the best. You shredded me and staying on the
Odyssey
would have been dying by degrees." He
turned away, putting both hands flat on the counter and bracing his weight on them. Here he was, doing what he said he’d never do and opening himself
up for annihilation again, not to mention humiliating himself by telling her exactly what she’d done to him. All on her word that the Institute cared
enough to block communication between a couple of teenagers.

"And…now?" she whispered.

He tensed, feeling the dangerous heat of her stare between his shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he said as coolly as he could,
"Like I said before, we don’t know each other anymore. I can’t deny I want you, Ryelle, but love’s hard for me to swallow."
There was a long silence, while he listened to his pulse pound in his ears and felt it throb in his fingertips.

Then she cleared her throat and said in a low voice, "Fair enough."

He heard her move and glanced over his shoulder to see her heading out of the kitchen. She moved with easy, casual grace, but something in the set of her
shoulders gave him a pang. He followed and watched with a sinking feeling as she stepped toward the door. "Leaving?" he asked softly.

"Thank you for the shake," she said with a faint smile over her shoulder, her face a mask of serenity. "It was heavenly. Goodnight,
Declan."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched her go, that sinking feeling turning into dismal dismay. He didn’t want her to go. He also knew her
enough to recognize that face she’d worn, recognize when she was hiding her true emotions. He was afraid he’d hurt her again.

Chapter 17

Declan stood alone in the quiet of his quarters for all of three minutes, before he headed for his com unit. She took long enough to answer that his heart
began to stutter in his chest. When her face appeared wearing its bland mask and her voice asked, "Yes?" in a distant tone, he nearly winced.

"I upset you," he said quietly.

"I just figured out that I’ve been separated from the man I love for fifteen years because of some zealous little prick with a grudge,"
she said in a too-even tone. "Of course I’m upset."

"Ryelle," he started then paused with a little grimace. "It’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around it. What would the Institute
care about somebody like me? How am I supposed to believe that you love me after all this time? It doesn’t make any sense."

Her lips thinned and that bland mask slipped enough to show a glint of ire in her endlessly dark eyes. "That’s because you’re a
hardheaded jackass. You don’t believe I’m telling the truth about any of it, do you?"

While he was trying to find a diplomatic way to answer that, she muttered something under her breath and settled into the seat with her arms folded, lovely
face set in grim lines.

"Listen up, McCrae, because I’m only going to say this once. The Institute back then saw telenetics as a commodity. And why not—they had
a monopoly on the business, they were making credit hand over fist, and there was no one to tell them how to treat their wards. I was their diamond mine,
their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, if only they could figure out how to contain me. With other telenetics, it wasn’t hard to gain undying
loyalty and devotion—the Institute provided telenetics with a home, an elevated status in society, and training to enhance their ability.

"With me, though, they had a challenge. I had someone who loved me, who I refused to be separated from, so I didn’t need them emotionally, nor
did I need enhancement. Status was a hollow thing to me, since I was as isolated within the telenetic community as without. When they separated me from my
mother and controlled my environment, they had me. But once I went aboard the
Odyssey,
they began to lose their pot of gold.

"Sam started me down that road. He treated me like a human being from the first. You took me the rest of the way, not only treating me like a normal
person, but accepting all of me, my telenetic ability included. You were the first person beyond my mother to see me for myself, to extend a hand of
friendship to every part of me. You touched me, Declan, not just physically, but in every way. You accepted me without judgment or reservation, and for
that you became as important to me as my next breath. The Institute knew it and they hated you for it."

She paused, staring at him with narrow eyes. Declan swallowed past the ache in his throat, but before he could get enough air around the constriction in
his chest to speak, she continued with a hard glint in her eye, "And before you tell me that it was just a first crush, that I was just a naïve
girl having my first real experience with romance, let me tell you about the rest of my romantic experiences."

"Ryelle," he rasped, fighting the need to reach right through the com and pull her onto his lap. "I don’t—"

"I’ve never met another man who made me feel the way you do. Full-on sexual intercourse with other men hasn’t felt nearly as good as a
single kiss from you. Beyond the physical, I haven’t been emotionally intimate with any other man. I love Sam, but he’s like a father to me. I
have plenty of male friends, but there is always a barrier there, either from my status as a freak of nature, or my status as a war hero, or my own
reservations about their motives. No one has ever been as honest with me as you have. And no one, not ever, has accepted me or completed me like you
do."

She surged abruptly to her feet, pacing restlessly around the room. The holo system tried to follow her, but she was moving too fast, so he only caught
glimpses of her as she passed the com unit. This was actually a relief to Declan, who thought his head was about to explode from the flat honesty in her
words, voice, and eyes. His mother was right—she wasn’t a player. This wasn’t a game and she believed every word she said. She made him
believe it.
Insane
.

He put his head in his hands. "Ryelle," he said, but she didn’t respond. "Ryelle."

She paused before the com unit, arms folded tightly over her chest and her face stiff with tension. "You know what? I think I’ve humiliated
myself enough tonight. I’ll see you in the morning." She reached for the com and he winced.

"Wait! Please, wait."

She hesitated, dark eyes filled with a wary uncertainty that bit at him.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the edge of the console hard and asked, "Would you let me talk you to sleep? Like we used to. I’d love to
watch you sleep again."

She stared at him for a moment, eyes flickering, then lowered herself slowly back into the seat. "You…want to talk?" When he nodded, she
dropped her eyes, shifting restlessly. "Earlier in your office," she said in a careful tone, "you seemed to want more than that. And you
did say you wanted me."

"Yes," he acknowledged in a hoarse voice, tightening his hold until the console creaked in protest. "But you’re upset. Didn’t
want to be crude or take advantage."

She peeked up through her lashes with edgy humor. "Declan, I’ve been throwing myself at you since I got here. Could you please come over here
and take advantage of me?"

He was up and moving so fast that his seat spun around in a circle before the grav drive stabilized. She was waiting at her door for him, her dark, dark
eyes fixed on him with burning intensity. But when he neared her, she backed away, a complicated mix of emotions dancing over her lovely face.

"Changed your mind?" he rasped, coming to a reluctant stop just inside her door. The aching hunger in his body snarled at him, his need to hold
her and touch her going beyond lust into desperation.

"I was just trying to figure out how to do this without…touching you."

He raised his eyebrows, a thread of humor easing some of his grinding urgency. "I’m pretty sure it requires touching, honey."

Her mouth curved and her eyes sparkled. "You’re adorable, darling, but I was referring to the part of me that doesn’t use hands. Once I
wrap myself around you, I can’t seem to stop my ability from doing the same."

He clenched his hands into fists to keep from pouncing on her. Drawing an uneven breath, he managed to keep his tone level as he said, "I don’t
see a problem with that."

"You don’t mind? On the
Odyssey
you seemed against the idea."

"Mind?" he growled through clenched teeth, taking a couple of steps toward her. "God’s mercy, woman, what do I have to do,
beg?"

Her teeth flashed in a wicked grin as she moved closer to him. "Won’t it shorten the, ah, festivities?"

He chuckled, taking her hands in his and leaning down to brush his lips against her mouth with a secret flare of delight in his chest. "I expect
I’ll be feeling festive all night long. Maybe even a solid week. I’ve wanted you for a long time, Ryelle."

Her smile faded into a sultry heat that he couldn’t resist and he pressed a more lingering kiss to her soft lips, slipping his fingers through hers
in an intimate slide that made her hum in her throat. She returned the pressure of his grip, body swaying into his for a tingling contact that spread fast
fire through his entire form.

He lifted his head on a groan, her sweet scent and taste fogging his mind. "You might have a point," he muttered, head swimming with desire.
"Could be a while before I can get you to where I am. Do you mind?"

She gave a shaky laugh, pressing her forehead against his chest. "You have no idea how close I am already." She shivered, brushing restlessly
against him. "It’s amazing the effect you have on me."