There’s a kind of weightlessness to her. Like someone waiting to be told what to do next.
And that’s the part that worries me.
Because something…something is different.
I’m just not sure what yet.
CHAPTER 7
LYN
Kaelion Rhyss…isa dad.
As if this night could get any weirder, Kaelion is a dad. I couldn't picture it when he first told me—then, of course, he showed me to his daughter's room. And there were pictures of him and his daughter. And kid stuff. And his ex-wife’s (ex-mate? I don't know how this works for his people) spare clothes in the closet.
I ended up sleeping in some of her clothes, under the blankets in an admittedly very comfortable bed, totally unable to actually rest.
Because not only has this all been very weird…but something is wrong with me.
I didn't want to tell Kaelion—I’ve already put him through enough—but something’s going on in my head. I feel…antsy. Anxious. At first I tried to tell myself it was just the utter strangeness of the night, but…
It’s still there when I wake up to dawn light creeping through the window.
I start trying to assess what it is I’m feeling exactly, rather than generalized panic. How would I ask a research subject whatthey’re experiencing? I would ask…how does your head feel? Your chest? How’s your breathing? Do you feel warm? Cold?
Are you suddenly obsessed with the idea of having sex with your supervisor, who you never really thought was hot except for when you were joking, but now it’s not a joke and you’re having very inappropriate thoughts in his daughter’s bedroom and that is just AWFUL and?—
“How do you feel?”
I snap my head to the side, finding Kaelion standing silently in the doorway—arms crossed, fully dressed in the same professional clothes I always see him in, tendrils twitching in curiosity. I sit bolt upright, pulling the blankets up around me like he’s seen something indecent even though I’m not even a little bit naked.
“Great,” I say. “Just peachy.”
He hums under his breath. “I would like to run some diagnostics before I leave for the station. And…I wouldstillurge you to go to medical for a full work-up.”
“You don’t want to keep me here?” I ask like an idiot.
He frowns. “No…I need to get my daughter…?”
“Right, duh,” I say, shaking my head. “Okay.
He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes. In an attempt to pretend nothing is wrong, I pull myself together and yank the blankets back, then swing my legs over the side of the bed…
…only to get dizzy and?—
—he catches me.
“Sit,” he says, in that voice that does something terrible to my nervous system. “You’re experiencing side effects.”
“I’ll go to the clinic,” I say. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”
“This happened inmy lab,” he mutters. “It’s already my problem.”
He steadies me with a hand braced on my arm, the other hovering above my lower back. A little voice in my head isscreamingjust grab me already, which is very much not helpful, so I sit down and pull myself out of his grasp.
“Are you experiencing increased sensitivity?” he asks, eyes darting from where I pulled myself away to my face.
“Meaning?”
