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THE INSTITUTE, BOOK I: HEALER

CASSANDRA GOLD

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.amberquill.com

The Institute, Book I: Healer

An Amber Quill Press Book

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

author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

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

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

http://www.AmberHeat.com

http://www.AmberAllure.com

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

Also by Cassandra Gold

Clay's Challenge

Quinn's Hart

Dedication

To my mom and dad, for reading to me.

Chapter 1

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 3

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

* * * *

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 4

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 5

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 6

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

Chapter 7

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

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

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

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

Chapter 8

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 9

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 10

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

* * * *

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

Chapter 11

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

Chapter 12

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

Chapter 13

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

Chapter 14

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 15

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

Chapter 16

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 17

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

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 18

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 19

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 20

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

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

Chapter 21

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

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 22

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 23

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

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

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

Chapter 24

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

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

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

Chapter 25

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

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

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

Chapter 26

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

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

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

* * * *

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

* * * *

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 27

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

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

* * * *

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

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

* * * *

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

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

Cassandra Gold

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

* * * *

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

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.

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