Camellia took her first bite of omelet. “Mmm. This is really good.”
“One of my many talents.” He grinned and took his own large bite. Cheesy, savory goodness melted on his tongue, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d eaten. He tucked into his meal and didn’t stop until his plate was clean.
Leaning back in his chair, he eyed Camellia across the table. “It’s time you give me the rundown on what you did for Kaden, Camellia. That wasn’t the same as a psychic healer, at least not according to any of the explanations I’ve ever heard. You used the same method healing him that you did when you helped Kyle when he was using the eyes of the owl to spy on Crawley and his men, didn’t you?”
She nodded slowly, finishing off her omelet. She pushed the empty plate toward the middle of the table and took a drink of water before she sank back in the chair. “I don’t have a psychic healing talent the way Ryland expected me to. Or you for that matter. That isn’t the way my gift works. You have a bit of talent yourself, Jonas. You just haven’t discovered or developed it yet. Didn’t you feel it when you were connected to me when I was working on Kaden?”
“Yes.” There was no denying it. He had. “But whatever gift I have is nothing compared to yours. Even if I worked at it day and night, I’d never come close to your ability. It’s possible, since Whitney paired us, that my talent is more of a support system for yours.”
Her brows came together in that little frown he found far tooadorable. Adorable. What the hell kind of word was that for a man like him? It suited that look though—and her. She could melt him so easily. Her dark lashes fluttered, went down, covering her blue eyes, and then lifted so he found himself drowning there. Small white teeth bit at the side of her lower lip for a moment.
“That’s a possibility I never considered, Jonas. Are you sure your healing gift isn’t the same? Maybe you just need to practice more.”
“Think about it, honey. I know you were caught up in what you were doing, but did it feel as if I could have actually saved Kaden without you?”
More frowning and biting on her lip. The long lashes veiled her eyes while she replayed the healing session in her mind. Jonas was right there with her, but he kept his distance. She fascinated him the way she remembered every detail. He was able to see more clearly how the various elements in the bloodstream had rushed to Kaden’s defense. She had marshaled Kaden’s body’s natural defenses but also used others. Where had she gotten them? She hadn’t just manufactured them out of thin air.
“You’re using abilities given to you from Middlemist Red,” he guessed. “The properties she has in her. Whitney suspected all along she possessed far more benefits than oils to be used for skin care or antiaging. Does she give you the ability to create the mist and the illusions in it?”
Camellia nodded. “Yes.”
“She’s the reason we can hide in the mist.”
“Absolutely.”
Jonas drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know why Middlemist Red disappeared all at once when she used to be so plentiful in China?”
Again, Camellia nodded slowly. “Plants communicate with one another, and Red is extremely advanced. She uses the mycelium network to reach out to trees and plants for miles, not to take overthe world, as some came to suspect, but to ensure the health of the plants. Humans became suspicious and she caught wind of a conspiracy to burn the camellias down. To prevent that, she had them all disappear.”
“How?”
“She took them underground. Just as she did in England when the Nazi bombs blew out the windows to the conservatory and let in the freezing cold air. She took all the rare camellias underground with her, where they could stay warmer and survive.”
Jonas sat back in his chair and regarded his woman. “That is one scary plant, Camellia. I can see why people would fear her. Do you think Whitney had any idea of what he was actually dealing with?”
“Not a chance. He doesn’t like anyone smarter than he is. Can you imagine if he thought a plant was more intelligent? He sure wouldn’t have taken a chance putting Red in our DNA.”
“What do you think he was hoping for?” Jonas asked. “Antiaging?”
“I think he believed she might have some healing properties, but nothing nearly as advanced as she does. He may have suspected she had some ability to communicate as well, but he had no idea of her true abilities. He had theories, but he changed them all the time. He wanted to know how she survived when other plants died out.”
“Longevity then?”
Camellia shrugged. “Whitney was big on experimenting with anything he thought might help his soldiers survive when the enemy couldn’t. He put Middlemist Red in me when I was very young. When nothing happened, he operated a second time when I was around ten. I remember being very ill. After that, he watched me like I was an insect under a microscope. He brought me to his office once a week and into the greenhouse—or as he referred to it, the hothouse—at least once a week. I think he thought the plant would react to me or I would to the plant.”
“You felt nothing?”
“I felt her gathering power. She doesn’t feel rage in the way we do. She feels disgust.”
“What does she do when she feels this disgust?” Jonas couldn’t help the wariness creeping into his voice. He was used to being at the top of the food chain. But now, he had the feeling he wasn’t quite as high up as he had envisioned himself.
Camellia stood up and stretched, raising her arms above her head before reaching for her plate to take it to the sink. He suspected she was buying herself time before she answered him. He would know if she lied to him—or even deflected.
“Camellia?”
She turned to face him, leaning against the sink. “I just told you what she did when she was disgusted. You weren’t listening—or you didn’t want to hear. You do it too. So do I. We both have Middlemist Red in us. I might have more of her, but you have far more natural aggression in you than I do. She allows you to draw on that when you gather power.”
Jonas pushed back his chair and paced away from her. She stated it so softly, almost gently—matter-of-factly, as if a plant gathering power didn’t mean anything—but it did, and they both knew it. Middlemist Red was a weapon. Pure and simple. He kept his breathing under control as he paced, trying to keep his thoughts from going to places Camellia would be upset with him for going.
