“You’ll call me when it’s my turn?” she asked.

 “I’ll wake you. Try to get some sleep, Cidra. Put your head down on my leg.”

Carefully she obeyed, intensely conscious of the long, smooth muscles of his thigh as she used it as a pillow. She couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say under the circumstances, so she lay very still, listening to the sounds of the darkness and trying not to think of the previous night’s lovemaking. After all, she lectured herself, this was neither the time nor the place to dwell on the emotional and physical intimacy she had found in Severance’s arms.

His arm moved, draping across her shoulder and br**sts with casual possessiveness. Cidra flinched and then relaxed. His touch was comforting, she decided, not sensual. She went back to trying not to think of what she had experienced with him.

But she was very much afraid she would never forget that time of pleasure and passion. There had been a raw, primitive response coursing through her last night that had nothing to do with serenity and calm ritual. It was an emotion totally pegged to the man who had held her, and Cidra knew that a lifetime would not be long enough to dim the memories. Severance kept telling her she was a Wolf, like it or not, and last night he had proved it.

“Go to sleep, Cidra. Stop thinking about it.” His hand stroked her arm with reassuring gentleness.

She knew for a fact that he couldn’t read her mind. “Stop thinking about what?”

“Last night.”

She grimaced. “How did you now that’s what I was thinking about?”

He chuckled softly. “It was either that or else you were thinking of what you had for dinner. Since you weren’t showing any signs of getting nauseated, I decided it was probably sex that was keeping you awake.”

“Your ego at work, no doubt.”

“No. Actually it was a lucky guess based on the fact that I was thinking about the same thing.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause before Severance said gently, “It changes everything, you know.”

“I don’t see why it should.” But she was lying and she knew it. He was right. Everything had changed.

“Sweet liar.” He bent his head and brushed her cheek with his lips. “You’re picking up all sorts of new habits, aren’t you? I’ll bet you never told a single lie all the time you lived in Clementia.”

The truth of that observation was disturbing. “I didn’t make this journey to become a Wolf, Severance.”

“I know.” The brief amusement faded from his voice. “I know. Go to sleep.”

She closed her eyes and was surprised to find that she could obey.

When Severance awakened her a few hours later, Cidra stirred stiffly, sitting up slowly and yawning as he shoved the butt of the pulser into her palm. She blinked sleepily, realizing vaguely that in the light of the flash his face looked more drawn and exhausted than it had earlier. She didn’t think his eyes appeared quite as clear, either.

“How are you feeling?”

“Lousy. But I’ll live till morning. Know how to use the pulser?”

“I know the theory, yes.” She was surprised by how cold and heavy it felt in her hand.

“Shoot first if something crosses the edge of the circle. Believe me, I’ll be awake shortly thereafter.” He stretched out along the side of the wall, pillowing his head on her lap as if it were the way he bedded down every night. His eyes closed immediately.

Tentatively Cidra rested her arm on his chest. It seemed to her that he felt very warm. Too warm. She hoped the antiseptic spray she had used earlier was doing its job.

Staying awake with a pulser in one hand proved to be a formidable task. Cidra decided that she had never given enough credit to the heroes in the First Family novels who spent so much time standing guard. The problem was boredom.

Behind her back, the wall of the safehold continued to radiate the warmth it had collected during the day. Rather than being uncomfortable, it was rather pleasant, although by rights the balmy air should have been sufficiently warm. Beyond the edge of the circle, night things moved about their deadly business. Cidra occasionally got disconcerting glimpses of prowling eyes. Fortunately, for her peace of mind, very little else was visible. The circle was holding. The knowledge made her wonder again why the mind call had not provided a safe path back to the campsite.

That thought led to another. She realized that she was totally unaware of any lingering call in her mind. Having served the purpose of drawing the visitors to the safehold, the telepathic lure had dissolved. And with it, perhaps, had dissolved her chances of discovering the truth behind the legend.

If this safehold was the source of those small hints and uncertain promises she had set out to track down, she might be at the end of her quest before it had even properly begun. Furthermore the results of that quest showed every sign of being useless. A faded mind call left by a people who had long since passed into the shadows held little hope of being converted into the magic elixir that would make her a true Harmonic.

There was always the possibility that the mind call was not what had prompted the legends, however. If this safehold had survived the centuries intact, who knew what else might be hidden on Renaissance? She let her mind drift back to the history she had seen in the safehold. The ending bothered her. It wasn’t just a sense of sadness she felt for the passing of a great civilization. Cidra realized that she also felt anger. Deep inside she hadn’t wanted the Ghosts to fade away without a struggle of any kind. Unconsciously she had wanted them to fight back against their fate, not bow serenely to it.

Severance shifted slightly, not waking. She touched his forehead and found it dry and hot. Anxiously she examined the wound. As far as she could tell, no blood was leaking through the plastic adhesive. The flesh around it was swollen and red, but that probably wasn’t unusual under the circumstances. Cidra rested her head against the safehold wall again and stared out into the darkness. Renaissance had a way of forcing a person to view things in fundamental terms. She found maintaining a belief in wispy tales and legends difficult when she was constantly being faced with so many real-life monsters and challenges.

Sooner or later she was going to be forced to decide how far to follow her personal dream. Every step with Teague Severance had an odd way of moving her goal farther from her grasp. Yet she could think of no other method of pursuing her quest. The thought of dropping the search altogether left her feeling shaken. She had dreamed for too many years.