Dealers' Choice - Susan Hayes Page 0,16

session.” She gestured to the chair across from her and said firmly, “Sit.”

He quirked a brow at her tone and then grinned a little as he eased his big body into a chair that had not been designed with cyborg frames in mind. Normally they met in the larger of the two therapy rooms, sitting on soft couches with carefully programmed scents and music to create an ambiance of welcoming calm.

“You’re awfully tiny to be trying to boss me around,” he said.

“You came into my sanctuary, pounded on my door, and insisted we have this meeting. I think you’ve already made enough demands for today, don’t you?” It was the hardest line she’d taken with either of them since their first sessions, back when both of them were almost feral with resentment and had no desire to discuss anything except their plans for revenge.

Vic’s lips thinned and he nodded slightly. “Point taken. But we really need to talk.”

“I know. But I’m not really sure where to begin.”

He leaned back in his chair until it creaked in protest. “How about we start with a simple question? What did you do to my brother?”

“That’s not a simple question.”

“It’s still one I need to know the answer to.”

“How is he?” she was deflecting, and they both knew it, even though the answer was important to her.

“Moody. Maybe even in mourning for something. I can’t really tell.” His amber eyes fixed on hers. “But I’m betting you could. You’ve got some kind of ability to touch other beings’ emotions, don’t you?”

She nodded, took a deep breath, and gave him the truth. “I’m an empath.”

“Shouldn’t you disclose that to your patients before you start treating us?”

She flinched at the sharpness to his words. There was distrust there. She didn’t blame him, but it still stung.

“If I did that, I wouldn’t be allowed to practice.” She raised her hands in a gesture that encompassed the room. “I wouldn’t even be here. I’d be back on my homeworld with the rest of the Nazeela Ulo. By planetary law, we are not permitted to leave unless we are accompanying our masters, and even then, we are not permitted to be gone for long.”

He frowned. “Treasure of the people? Is that a literal translation? What does that mean?”

“It means that if I didn’t hide my abilities, I’d be little more than a slave.”

“So, when you said master…” His expression turned stormy. “Your species has some seriously fraxxed up rules.”

That made her laugh, relief and amusement bubbling up and easing the tension she’d been holding in. “I think I mentioned that the other night.”

“On our date.”

“At dinner,” she corrected him.

He leaned forward, and this time the chair’s squeak of protest was louder. “At a dinner where you sat in my brother’s lap and held our hands on the walk home.”

“Yes, I did. And then it all went up like a supernova, and here we are.” On the brink of changing everything. She wasn’t ready to admit that last bit out loud. Not yet.

He was quiet for a moment, so close she could smell the subtle mix of soap, the club, and him. “And here we are. Can you tell me what you did to him? I’ve heard his descriptions, he even shared the footage of what happened from his perspective, but I don’t know what he was feeling, and I need to understand.”

She fell back into her role as therapist with a feeling close to relief. This was familiar territory. “Why?”

“Because the two people I care about most in the world were involved in something that resulted in one of them shutting down and the other one going into hiding.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not being there when you both needed me. As your therapist, I should have—”

He was on his feet in a flash, hands planted on her desk as he loomed over her. “We don’t need a fraxxing therapist, Xori. We need you.”

She shrank back in her chair, her arms rising into the same gesture of submission she’d used the other night. It was instinctive, and she resented the life that had taught her to react to anger this way. It was part of why she’d chosen this career in the first place. To undo what had been done to herself.

He rounded the desk in a heartbeat, turning her chair and crouching in front of her, his big hands engulfing hers to draw them back

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