Page 48 of Power of the Mind

“You’re staring.”

“No.”

“Guns, don’t lie to me. You were eating me alive with your eyes.”

I had no defense. It was exactly what I’d been doing.

His toe kept moving, and I didn’t know where to put myself. The August heat penetrated the air-conditioned room, and a new sheen of sweat coated my skin.

Likely sensing my discomfort, Tallus stopped tracing patterns with his toe and sat upright. TV forgotten, he shimmied closer, closing the gap and tucking his legs under his bottom. He didn’t touch me, but the proximity was enough that I held my breath and fought the urge to put distance between us.

“At ease, soldier,” he whispered as he displayed a hand. It was the warning he often gave before touching me, and I appreciated it more than he knew. Tallus always ensured I was prepared for contact. Sadly, he’d learned what could happen if he didn’t.

He understood my hang-ups.

I waited on pins and needles, watching his hand and readying myself.

It wasn’t often Tallus did more than massage his fingers over my scalp, but there had been a handful of times when I’d stormed his house in the middle of the night when he’d pushed boundaries. When those hands had wandered over my body in a way that plunged me into madness.

I’d never stopped him. In fact, I loved when he touched me. But I’d never been able to return the affection. I’d never been able to loosen up and enjoy it or verbalize how it made me feel.

Tallus went with the familiar, stroking his fingers over my scalp. His focus was on my face, on my reactions. It felt good, and the tension vanished as I relaxed a fraction. It was comforting.

“Do you like it went I touch you like this?”

I stared at his chest through the thin tank top and nodded, my throat too dry to speak.

“Diem, use words.”

“Yes,” I croaked.

He tilted my head so I stared into his eyes. Their warmth enveloped me. I missed his glasses, but without them, the flecks of gold and emerald swimming in the pools of his eyes stood out. It was subtle, but the colors shifted ever so slightly with his mood. They appeared more amber when he was subdued or tired and greener when he was flirtatious and playful. The deeper shades of brown became more prominent when he was serious or upset.

At the moment, his irises were a kaleidoscope of browns and greens and golds, and I didn’t know what it meant. They reflected warmth and kindness. They asked a thousand questions I couldn’t answer. They seemed to be able to bypass my barriers and see right into my soul, and that terrified me because there was nothing nice to see down there, and I worried the truth would scare him off.

His fingers moved from my shorn hair to my face. The pads danced lightly over my unshaven cheek, rasping along the remains of an old silver scar. The touch was intimate, but the location was personal, and it was messing with my head.

I closed my eyes when echoes of the past made me want to draw back. I tried to stay present, but the pull was too strong. Ifelt sudden, slashing pain ashisweapon of choice made contact and split my cheek wide open. I smelled the recently oiled chain mixed with the coppery scent of my own blood as it streamed down my face. I tasted iron and rust as it coated my lips. I heardhisshouts of anger andherscreams of protest. I—

“Diem.”

Something touched my hand, and I catapulted back to the present, eyes flying open on a gasp. Tallus. Tallus was in front of me. Closer than ever. His hands were wrapped around my clenched fists, trying to break the tension, but it was like cracking granite.

“It’s me,” he said, an edge of worry in his tone, a hint of concern wrinkling his brow. Was he remembering a day many months ago when I’d been caught in the past and had almost decked him because he’d touched me during a nasty flashback?

“You’re okay.”

I wasn’t. I was never okay.

Chest heaving, I remained still as I reconnected with the present using Dr. Peterson’s method of grounding myself using my five senses. I could see Tallus. Over the pounding of my heart, I could hear the sitcom’s laugh track and the actor’s chatter. I could feel Tallus’s hands covering mine. I could smell his cologne. But it was bile that filled my mouth, choking me, and it wouldn’t go away.

I needed a drink. A cigarette.

Tallus worked my fists loose, and when I stopped clenching, he wove his fingers with mine so we were holding hands. His gaze was invasive and intense. He wanted to know what had happened and where I’d gone, but he didn’t want to ask.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

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