“You think that was funny?”
“I guess you had to be there.”
“Iwasthere.”
He concentrated on securing the room, but there was no getting around the fact that a part of him was consumed by the prowling tension that was the usual first phase of the post-burn syndrome.You’ve been here before,he thought.You can handle it.
The biochemistry of a heavy burn was complicated and not well understood. For males, there was a lot of adrenaline and testosterone involved, so the sexual arousal was predictable. But the hungry, urgent restlessness had never been this bad in the past. It didn’t take a psychic to know why the sensation was so overwhelming tonight. It had a focus, and that focus was Abby.
He forced himself to go through the drill. He noted the location of the emergency exits and came up with two possible escape routes. His hand shook a little when he inserted the key card into the lock. If Abby noticed, she was too polite to say anything.
Inside the room, he secured the door and did a quick survey. No connecting doors, as promised. The sealed windows looked out over Sixth Avenue twelve floors below.
Satisfied, he unzipped the leather duffel and took out two small crystals.
“What are those?” Abby asked.
“Think of them as psychic trip wires. If anyone tries to come in through the door or the window, I’ll know about it.”
“More PEC technology?”
“Yes.”
“Do you always carry those gadgets and your gun in your overnight bag?”
“Yes.”
When he was satisfied that he had taken all possible precautions, he turned around and looked at Abby. She stood, contemplating the bed, arms folded. Something about her obvious uncertainty irritated him.
“What?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “Nothing. I, uh, thought there would be two beds, that’s all.”
For some reason, the knowledge that she did not want to share the bed with him hit him harder than the damn flash-bang had. And then he got mad; not at Abby, at himself. That was another problem with the burn-and-crash routine. It pushed everything, including normal, logical thought processes, to the edge. It made for a real roller-coaster ride.
“Sorry.” He knew he sounded brusque, but that was a hell of a lot better than begging her to sleep with him. “This was all that wasavailable in a room that had no connecting door. No problem. I’ll take the chair or the floor.”
“No, you certainly will not.” Her brows scrunched together in a severe look. “You need to sleep soundly. You can’t do that in a chair or on the floor.”
“Trust me, the way I’m going to go down tonight, I won’t notice where I sleep.”
“Forget it. Sorry I raised the issue. I’m a little tense. You’ve had a very deep burn. I thought that you would sleep better alone.”
“I’m not going into a coma.” He took his overnight kit, a fresh T–shirt and a clean pair of briefs out of the duffel bag. “I just need some sleep.” He headed toward the bathroom.
“By the way, what is PEC technology?” Abby asked.
“What?” It was hard to focus on her question. The urge to pull her into his arms and lose himself in her warm, soft body while the aftermath flames burned through him was growing stronger. What the hell was the matter with him? He had never been this close to the edge of control. Maybe Barrett’s psychic flash-bang gadget had a few side effects.
“PEC technology,” she repeated. “You and Gideon Barrett both used the term.”
He stood in the doorway, staring into the white tile bathroom. “Stands for psi-emitting crystals. The paranormal equivalent of light-emitting diodes and liquid crystal displays.”
“They’re similar to LEDs and LCDs?”
“Yes, but the energy generated comes from beyond the normal range on the spectrum and has different properties. It’s the kind of technology Coppersmith is working on in the Black Box lab.” He moved into the bathroom and plopped the overnight kit down on the counter. “Do you mind if we save the science lesson for tomorrow? I’m beat. Not really in a good place to explain the physics of para-rocks right now. I need a shower.”
“I was just curious.”
