Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

T omlin immediately regretted blurting out the truth about his heritage, but despite his bitter words, Etta still looked more confused than alarmed.

"Why would you say that? You are the furthest person I can imagine from a savage."

"I have learned to keep that part of myself under control, but I have been… tested recently."

"How?" she asked, then gave him an apologetic look. "I can't help asking but you don't have to answer."

Oddly enough he found himself wanting to tell her. Of course he also wanted to reach across the table and haul her into his arms but he firmly suppressed that impulse. His efforts at control had been successful - mostly - and he intended to keep it that way, no matter how tantalizing her presence.

"I've been exposed to more of the stones and I've had to do some… difficult things. I also had to spend more time than usual in Port Cantor and it is harder to block people out when they surround you. At least it is now."

He was being truthful, even though he was uncomfortably aware that it wasn't the entire truth.

"Now?"

"I lived there for some years when I was younger, but I am out of practice."

"Did you live there with your parents?" she asked softly.

"No. My mother and I lived in one of the remote settlements along the western shore." As far away as she could get from the city. "She died when I was ten and I went to live with relatives."

Bitter, abusive relatives who'd told him that his mother was a whore and that he was the child of the devil even though they hadn't known the entire truth. He'd hated it but he'd learned to accept it - until he turned thirteen and thought he was in love. He cringed internally at the memory and looked up to find her watching him, her finger tapping her lips again.

"What about your father?"

"I never met him," he said shortly.

The authorities had managed to contain his father long enough for his mother to flee, but he knew she'd spent the rest of her life expecting him to show up. He'd sometimes wondered if she occasionally wanted to be found in spite of what had occurred between them. She rarely spoke about him but when she did, there was an element of… longing mixed in with her fear. And he suspected that if his father had been alive, he would have tracked her down eventually.

"When I… left my relatives, I went to the city."

It sounded so innocuous, as if he hadn't been driven away with torches and pitchforks. Which I deserved. Another boy in the village had also been interested in the object of his childish affection and he and a group of his friends had attacked him. That might not have been enough to push him over the edge, but then his rival had stood over his bleeding body and started gloating about his intentions for the girl.

His comments had aroused the primal possessiveness of his Krythian side and, combined with his pain and anger, he'd finally lost the control his mother had tried so hard to teach him. He'd almost killed the other boy before they were able to drag him off of him and force him out of the village. The last thing he remembered seeing was the girl he'd thought he loved crying over his opponent's broken body.

Alone in the wilderness he'd finally managed to regain control but he knew he couldn't return. With no other place to go, he'd headed for Port Cantor. He suspected he would have been driven away from there as well if he hadn't encountered Grethel.

"What happened then?" she asked softly.

"I… met someone who took me in."

Driven by starvation, he'd been about to try and steal a man's purse when cold, strong fingers clamped down on his arm. An old woman wrapped in a black cloak, barely taller than him, had regarded him from glowing blue eyes.

"That is not the way, boy. Come with me."

When she dropped his arm and turned away, he'd followed, grateful to be noticed, even if he expected little other than more abuse. But Grethel hadn't abused him. Gruff perhaps, and not given to displays of emotion, but she'd made sure he was fed and clothed. She'd sent him to school and provided him with a home. She just hadn't told him the truth.

"Was she the one who taught you to cook?"

"Yes. And since I had to eat whatever I made, I learned very quickly." The memory of some of those meals almost made him smile. "She taught me many things, including the tales that I told you."

"Is she still there in Port Cantor?"

"She died."

And the pain of her passing, combined with his anger over her secrets, had unleashed his Krythian side once more, driving him back into the wilderness. He'd let it dominate him for several years before he finally returned to his training and managed to regain control.

"I'm so sorry." She reached for his hand but he forced himself to pull it away. She didn't attempt to follow it. "I lost my parents when I was eight but I didn't have any relatives, even bad ones. I had a guardian who made sure that all of my material needs were met."

He didn't miss the slight emphasis on material needs.

"But not your emotional needs?"

"No. He wasn't a bad man," she added hastily. "He made sure I was looked after and he took excellent care of my inheritance. But he was a very proper, very restrained bachelor who had no idea of what to do with a child. And I was a very awkward child."

He could hear the echo of his own loneliness in her words and this time he wanted to reach out to her but he clenched his fist instead. She smiled and shook her head.

"Do you know he actually fell in love about the time I started university? With a very pretty, very helpless woman half his age. Fortunately she was also very sweet and she loved him too. She immediately wanted me to live with them, but it was too late. I'd found my path."

"On your own?"

"It's easier that way." She shrugged and changed the subject. "I was thinking about what you said - that the morchev has a negative effect on you."

It wasn't exactly what he'd said, but it was close enough.

"Yes. Why?"

"Have you ever been around the stones before?"

"No, although I had heard of them."

"Then I have an idea." Her eyes sparkled with excitement behind her glasses. "Why don't we try an experiment? To see if we can reduce their impact on you?"

His heritage was the root of his problems, not the stones, but admittedly they did test his control.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously.

"Have you ever heard of exposure therapy? We could expose you to the stones gradually, rather than all at once like yesterday. That way you could gradually become accustomed to them and learn to handle the effects. What do you think?"

He thought it was unlikely to do anything other than further test his control, but it would give him a reason to remain with her. A distant part of his mind warned him that it was a bad idea, but he told himself that he'd been able to control his mating urges reasonably well since his return and he nodded.

"I am willing to try."

"That's wonderful."

A warm smile suddenly illuminated her pretty face and once again he had the urge to reach for her. He could only hope he hadn't overestimated his ability to remain in control.