Page 21 of Border Control

I wantto rest because Law-rah told me to, but Nevare’s mind surfing keeps drowning me in images. He's not aware he psychically wanders while he sleeps, and Arik appears to be sleeping deeply, so I’m the only one affected.

I try to ignore it as Nevare sweeps over Arture, a big blank whose thoughts we've never been able to read—almost as if he doesn't have one—to Gara, whose busy brain quietens down with relief watching Arra-bellah. We automatically skirt around our leader’s mind. Even in sleep, a Parthiastock obeys orders for a leader's right to privacy.

But then Nevare touches on a consciousness and halts there, accidentally hooked on a snag. There’s no waking thoughts in my wave brother, so he's not seeing anything himself, but the wants, wishes, and imaginings pelt me all the same.

A list. Structured. Efficient. Familiar, similar to the way Arik arranges Nevare's thought patterns.

Nevare’s findings, bright and spiky, brushes against my mind like static. Words and concepts flow across to me: “Getting involved with him: pros and cons.”

Law-rah. I press my mental self closer to Nevare and her thoughts sharpen, coming into focus.

“Cons, first: many. I'm swamped with the inquest, my friends know him, and I keep my worlds separate. Always have.”

Who is this ‘he’ she refers to? Whoever it is, he's lucky to have caught a female’s attention like this.

“Pros: he needs help. I took away his coping mechanism, so it's up to me to help him replace it. Con: I don't understand much about healing, especially trauma, so I'd need to be careful.”

Blue-grey spikes from her brainwaves spear through me, sharp enough I flinch as if they pierce my skin. She’s experiencing mental distress.

I try to reach out, to take it from her, when she breathes through them to continue: “Pros: I’ll be careful. Another pro, there's nothing much to do on the inquest except go over my notes. Again. But cons, I can’t be distracted, and I can't play around with someone if they don't think they have a choice. But I'm already talking to Nicole about that.”

These thoughts chase each other, a negative for every positive, half defiant, half hopeless.

Then a new ‘con’ forms, slowly.

“Maybe he won't like it when I take charge in bed. None of them have.”

Charge in bed? What's that?

“Pros: I can help him see whether he likes it.”

I lean in as the words swirl and shimmer, less akin to a list now, more like a mood, a pulse. A rhythm. She's sliding into a space between waking and dreaming, an opening into her private thoughts.

I halt at the threshold. I haven't been invited, so I shouldn't be here. Yet I can't look away. The transgression lies heavily onme, holding me contained like betrillium shackles, immobile as I watch.

One of us kneels in the machine shed. Arms behind his back, not bound, but held there by sheer will, trembling. Sweat slips between the fine seams of his scales, tracing the curve of his shoulders. He's nearly naked, just a narrow scrap of fabric low on his hips. The image is so clear it steals my breath: a perfect imprint of vulnerability and restraint.

She was thinking of one of us?

The figure lifts his head. His eyes—my eyes—glow violet in the dim light.

It’s me.

She's imagining me like this.

“Are you struggling, darling?” Law-rah’s voice glides in, soft as woven gauze, intimate as breath against scales. She's not visible, but I feel her. We move closer, inside her mind, watching fromhereyes. I see myself shiver beneath her gaze, my scales hot despite the cool shadows of the shed.

“Yes, Law-rah,” my mirrored self whispers. Sweat clings to my neck, slips lower. I’ve seen myself punished before, through Arik’s eyes, sometimes Nevare’s, but never like this. They never lingered on how strong I look in surrender. How my chest heaves with breath I can't catch. How the moisture slides between interlocked scales, making everything look… softer.

But Law-rah sees it.

“You look beautiful,” she murmurs.

The words strike like the veralash. My muscles unlock. My chest lifts, then lowers, slow and steady, like her voice is a command my body can't refuse.

Say that again. Say it in real life. Please.

She reaches out with pale hand, trembling slightly. “Do you want me to touch you?”