Different Senses (42 page)

He slumped back, hand over his
side. “Yes. I remember. Sorry. I was dreaming and it was all mixed
up. You really stayed.”

“Of course I stayed. Do you
want me to stay the rest of the night?”

He looked at me with those
lovely eyes. “Please?” He reached for my hand, and I let him take
it. “If you like, I could—”

“No, you couldn’t. Not only are
you injured, you’re my client. And I’m not a complete oaf. I want
to stay, if it helps.”

“It does. When I woke, alone, I
felt terrified. I didn’t know where I was, or what was
happening.”

“The drugs. The doctor gave you
a sedative. Don’t like them myself, but they can help.”

“I wish I’d known. I don’t want
to be drugged. Come closer, Javen. I can’t slide to you.”

I obeyed, turning the light off
and lying down under the covers. He cuddled close to me. “How’s the
pain?” I asked.

“There, but bearable if I don’t
move. You’ve had worse.”

“Yes, but knife wounds are
terrible. They cut through so many nerve endings, and on your side,
they pull.”

“Yes. You understand. Lalit
panicked when he found me. I had to tell him to call the police and
then the medics. You don’t panic.”

“Not often. You should really
go back to sleep.” I stroked his head. His braids were smooth,
quite unlike touching unbound hair.

“I will in a bit. Do you do
this for all your clients?”

I laughed. “No, I certainly
don’t.”

“I’m special.”

“Yes, you are. Talented and
lovely and a treasure for your people.”

“Just my people?”

“No. Stop fishing for
compliments. You know you have an extraordinary gift.”

He chuckled quietly. “But I
love to hear you say it. You have a beautiful voice, Javen. So deep
and...commanding.”

My cock throbbed as his voice
dropped on the last word. “Stop it. You know what you’re
doing.”

His hand slid down over my
crotch. “You have a beautiful body too.”

I pushed his hand off me.
“Enough of that. I’m not made of stone and there are ethics to
consider, not to mention the fact you have a bloody great slice
along your ribs.”

“Okay.” I heard the pout in his
voice. “It’s sad you don’t have a lover. Don’t you even have
someone you’d like to sleep with?”

“
This conversation is
verging dangerously close to unprofessional, but to answer
your
one
question, yes, I do, and no, I’m not telling you who. Go to
sleep, brat.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“You certainly are, and sanity
knows what you’d be like without an injury.” I tugged him carefully
closer to me, the warmth of his bare chest delicious through the
thin cloth of the sleeping shirt. “A very attractive and tempting
brat who needs rest to recover from the injury and shock of a
crappy experience. Sleep, Tushar. You’ll be amazed how much better
you feel in the morning.”

“And you’ll be here.”

“I will. Though I’ll have to
escape early. I have work to do.”

“I understand.” He wriggled,
hissing in a breath. I was about to chide him for hurting himself
when I felt his lips, soft and warm, on my cheek. “Good night,
Javen.” His words vibrated against my skin.

Sanity, what
a gorgeous voice.
“You too.”

He fell silent and I kept
quiet, hoping the drug in his system and the tiredness of injury
would work their will. In very little time, they did, his breathing
going deep and slow, his breaths wafting gently across my neck,
which did very little to help me control my libido.

He wasn’t the first client to
make a pass at me. Something about my job turned people on, which I
didn’t understand, and there was always the old “Can you take a
little off my bill if I make you a happy man?” ploy, which was good
for a laugh, though not much else. But he was easily the most
attractive to try it. And the first to tempt me even slightly.

And the absolute last one I
should take up on the offer. I sighed quietly. I really, really
needed to find someone to have sex with who wasn’t a client, didn’t
look like a teenager, didn’t remind me of Shardul, and wouldn’t
involve me in messy emotional games. Kirin would sleep with me out
of real affection and as a friend, but that would take us back to
territory neither of us wanted to revisit, so he was out as an
option. Hiring someone was always possible, but I was just romantic
enough to want a genuine connection of hearts and minds, even for a
few hours. I wondered what Shardul’s “female relatives” would
prescribe for my malady?

Enough
. I closed my eyes and
determinedly ignored the heat and subtle scent of the delectable
presence next to me. Security plans for the Institute—that would
distract me. Positioning of scanners and cameras. Important, boring
stuff.

Tushar sighed and moved, his
hand falling over my hip and onto my stomach, a centimetre or so
above my wide-awake erection.

It was going to be a
very,
very
long night.

~~~~~~~~

The first rays of sunlight
found me wide awake, with a cramp in my leg I desperately wanted to
ease, but I didn’t want to wake Tushar to do so. My companion,
naturally, had slept like an innocent, pinning me in position, and
making me regret my altruism in agreeing to stay. Not that it was
his fault, but in the name of reason, what the hell had I been
thinking?

The sun grew brighter, and
Tushar slumbered on. If I didn’t move soon, I wouldn’t be able to
walk. Maybe I could wake him and he’d go back to sleep.

But then he sighed deeply and
opened his eyes, looking straight into mine. “You stayed.”

“Yes, but I’m sorry. I just
need to....” I climbed out of bed and stretched, wincing at the
pain. “Sorry. Cramp.”

“Because of me?”

“A little.”

His expression fell. “I’m
sorry. I’ve been such a nuisance to people over this.” He covered
his eyes with his hand.

I sat and stroked his hair.
“Hey, I’ve had worse sleeping with someone I lived with. It’s
nothing.” I bent and kissed the bit of cheek I could see. “Forget
me. How are you?”

“Sore. Not so tired.”

I tugged his hand away from his
face, and kissed him again. “Good. You don’t look as pale.”

“Next to you, I always
will.”

I smiled. “Yes.” I touched his
face—my fingers look very dark against it. “I should go before the
press come swarming.”

“Maybe you should stay until
they get bored.”

“That could take a while.”

He kissed my fingers, then
trapped them in his hand. “I wish we’d made love, Javen.”

Sanity, that was all I needed.
“A bad idea, Tushar.”

“Kiss me. Kiss me
properly.”

“Tushar—”

“Nothing more, I promise.”

Like I said, I wasn’t made of
stone. I bent and touched my lips to his, letting him guide me. He
cupped my head and pulled me close, his tongue slipping into my
mouth, his lips demanding me, testing mine. Young he might be, but
he knew what he was doing—more than me, I thought. His hand roved,
slipping under my shirt onto my bare skin, until I trapped it. He
smiled under my mouth, and redoubled his sweet attack on me.

I had to stop this. I pulled
away, though his moan of disappointment echoed my own silent one.
“Any more and I’ll never get out of here.”

His smile asked “This is a
problem, why?” but he didn’t move to make me stay. “You kiss like a
dream.”

“So do you, and you know
it.”

His mouth quirked. “Brat. You
forgot the ‘brat’.”

“Hmmm, so I did. Brat.” He
grinned and my heart flipped a little. “I’ll call later, I
promise.”

“Come by?”

“Maybe. But I’ll see you soon.
Take care of yourself.”

“Lalit will.”

“Yeah.”

He blew me a kiss and I smiled.
“‘Bye, Tushar.”

“‘Bye, Sri Sexy Voice.”

Definitely a brat.

I changed in the main house to
avoid temptation. Ursemin was nowhere to be seen. It was only seven
so I had plenty of time to go home, catch Yashi and Tara, shower
and eat. But damn it, I’d forgotten about my auto. I placed an
order for a taxi to meet me out front, and went outside to
wait.

Or that had been the plan,
anyway. When I stepped through the front door, I stumbled, battered
by the sheer force of emotions projected from what to be....

Hundreds
of people. Mainly women.
Spilling out across the pavement and roads, holding candles, and
flowers, and incense, for sanity’s sake. One of them spotted me,
and the screaming started. “What the
fuck
is going on?” I yelled at
the cop guarding the entrance.

“Vigil for Sri Omanand.”

“
He’s not
dying.
”

The cop cocked his thumb at the
crowd. “Try telling them.”

“And how am I supposed to get
through that lot?”

“I heard you used to be on the
force, sergeant.”

I made a face at him. “You’re a
fat lot of good.”

Nothing for it but to walk
quickly and make my total lack of being Tushar obvious. But as I
strode manfully and with purpose towards the gate, someone yelled,
“There he is! Sri Ythen, look this way!”

Startled, I obeyed, and a rush
of camera clicks recorded my confusion.

“Sri Ythen, is it true you’re
Sri Tushar’s lover?”

“Sri Ythen, does your father
approve of your relationship with Sri Tushar?”

“
Sri Ythen, what’s it
like having a famous
banis
lover?”

“No comment,” I gritted out,
wishing I could say “Fuck off” instead, but I’d been brought up too
well, unfortunately. If I stopped to answer questions like this,
I’d end up feeding idiotic speculation, and that was the last thing
this situation needed.

The questions and the
cameras followed me out onto the street. Between the annoyance at
this unwanted development, the still overwhelming emotions from
Tushar’s worried fans, and the frantic interest of the media, my
head felt like my skull was three sizes too small for the contents.
My temples throbbed with pain. My
eyeballs
throbbed.

The taxi driver nearly drove
off when she saw the press pack. “Lose them and I’ll pay you triple
fare,” I told her.

“Where to?”

“I honestly don’t care. Head
northish.”

She tore off.

“Are they following?”

“I can’t see anyone, sir.”

“Just keep driving. I’ve got to
make some calls.”

“Yes, sir. Are you really
Governor Ythen’s son?”

“Just drive, please.”

I called Madan. “Remember all
that crap after the Governor’s Ball? You can double it. We better
close the office for the day. Tell the kids to stay low and not
answer any strange calls.”

“Again? Who is it this time,
Javen?”

“Tushar. Only it’s not. It’s a
beat up.”

He whistled. “Sleeping with the
clients is a no-no.”

“Yeah, I do know that. I wrote
the rules for the staff, remember? Just hunker down until this goes
away again.”

“Okay. But it’s good publicity
for us, in a way. If Benay’s the guy, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Good publicity for
Tushar and Ursemin too, though I doubted Tushar realised it yet. “I
have other calls to make. I’ll be at home if you need me.”

Next call was to Yashi to warn
him. He wasn’t at all pleased since he had to work and there was no
chance of making a getaway like he had last time. “We need you
settled down with someone dull, brother. The novelty has worn off.
Mum and Dad will be furious.”

“Right now, that’s the least of
my worries. Tell Tara I’m sorry too.”

Then I called the police
station and asked for Lieutenant Mahre. “Ah, sergeant, I’m glad you
called. I wanted to thank you for the tip-off on Benay.”

“He confessed?”

“He’s definitely the one who’s
been sending the messages and threats to Sri Tushar. I haven’t
managed to get a confession about the attack, but with the knife
and Sri Tushar’s blood on it, there’s enough to charge him.”

“Good work. It’ll be a relief
to my client.”

“The early news is full of
reports about you and your client.”

I didn’t think I’d imagined the
slight leer in his voice. “Press fantasy, as usual. Not the first
time, with my father’s position and so on.”

“Yes. You didn’t mention your
father yesterday.”

“Because it’s not relevant to
the case or anything else. Can I tell Sri Tushar Benay’s out of
action?”

“May as well, but he shouldn’t
drop his guard. The loonies have been coming out of the tall grass
on this one. I had six people drop in and confess to attacking him
before eleven o’clock last night.”

“Wonderful. Better you than me,
as they say.”

“
Thanks very much,
sergeant. I’ll keep your
client
informed.”

Yeah, that was definitely
a leer.
Bastard
.

The driver looked at me in the
mirror. “Sir? How much longer?”

I gave her the address
for Yashi’s house. No press hounds there, but voice messages had
been left while I’d been on the phone. I paid the driver her
promised triple fare, then scanned through the list. I deleted all
but one, from Shardul. “Javen, what’s going on? I’ve had
some
very
irritating calls about you this morning.”

Damn
it
. I sent him a text message asking for
a face to face over lunch, or chai. He replied ten minutes
later.
“Chai at eleven. Can
spare you half hour only. Make it worth my time.”

Great. Nothing was pissier than
a pissed off Shardul.