Read Online AMAZON KINDLE VERSION A Siberian Werewolf In London EDITED 3 9 2012 by Caryn Moya Block - Free Book Online
Authors: Caryn Moya Block
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and Melisande was his business alone.
“Let me speak to Kincaid and I will inform him of the change.”
“He’s right here.” Grigori said handing the phone to Kincaid. He watched as Kincaid answered the phone and listened to his superior’s instructions.
"Fine, then. Goodnight,” Kincaid said with some disappointment making his way to the door and leaving.
Melisande walked into the living room and smelled food. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she was starving. Grigori, smiling as if he actually heard her stomach, walked over and, taking her hand, led her to the table and held the chair for her.
"Where are Officer Kincaid and Hampton?" she asked.
"Their shift was over. I believe there is one new officer in the hall, but since we aren't going out, one guard should be enough,” Grigori answered.
Melisande lifted the cover of the silver salver to find a steak dinner. Her mouth watered in anticipation. The filet smelled delicious, and a big baked potato sat next to it.
"I ordered the meat cooked medium. I hope that it is okay?" Grigori asked.
"Perfect. It looks and smells delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I was.”
Grigori sat down to eat. He knew he needed to ask Melisande about her work with the tapestry, but hated to break the mood. Even though they were not talking, their feelings were comfortable and intimate. Once Melisande realized they were alone, she relaxed. As she ate, he felt her contentment coming through the mating bond. Grigori himself relaxed somewhat as well. Melisande's emotions were already affecting him. Their emotions combined and amplified as they flowed along the cord linking them.
They finished eating and moved in unison to sit on the couch before either spoke again.
"When you work on tapestries, what happens in your mind?" Grigori asked, putting his arm around Melisande. She hesitated a moment, but seemed to come to a decision and answered.
"I can see the people who worked on them. Sometimes I can pick up their feelings and learn things about them,” she said. "The piece today hides a secret in its threads. The weaver was ill. His wife did most of the work.”
"You can tell that from handling the tapestry? Have you ever tried to read other objects?"
"When I was a kid, I tried. Once I picked up an old knife that had been used to cut up animals. I felt the owner’s emotions coming through the handle, the animal’s fear still clinging to the blade. He had liked slicing up something that had once been alive. It scared me, and after that, I was more careful of what I tried to read. I also worked to develop defenses so I didn’t accidently do a reading on something used for killing or butchering. Before developing defenses in my mind, I was careful not to touch anything old, or belonging to a stranger, or I wore gloves. But now I can turn on my ability when I wish and keep it off the rest of the time.”
"But you can pick up on who made the object, as well as who owns it now?" he asked.
"Yes, I pick up on their emotions. When something is created a lot of energy goes into it. So sensing who made it is easy. The person who currently owns it must put their energy into the piece for me to feel it. They must touch it often or wear it. I didn’t sense Lady Ashtown at all in the tapestry. After she bought it, I don’t think she handled it much.
"How do you read objects?"
"I think it has to do with the energy. The people touch the objects and I pick up on their essence, the energy left behind. Sometimes in a tapestry I can see patterns in the threads—how things happened and why. It is rather hard to explain.”
"Do you realize you are using psychic energy to see your patterns?"
"How is that possible? I mean I know never to mention what I feel from a piece. I never have proof anyway, so why would someone believe me? I knew what I was doing was different, but I didn’t realize it was a psychic ability. I thought it was a fluke.”
"I felt the energy clearly today while you
“Let me speak to Kincaid and I will inform him of the change.”
“He’s right here.” Grigori said handing the phone to Kincaid. He watched as Kincaid answered the phone and listened to his superior’s instructions.
"Fine, then. Goodnight,” Kincaid said with some disappointment making his way to the door and leaving.
Melisande walked into the living room and smelled food. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she was starving. Grigori, smiling as if he actually heard her stomach, walked over and, taking her hand, led her to the table and held the chair for her.
"Where are Officer Kincaid and Hampton?" she asked.
"Their shift was over. I believe there is one new officer in the hall, but since we aren't going out, one guard should be enough,” Grigori answered.
Melisande lifted the cover of the silver salver to find a steak dinner. Her mouth watered in anticipation. The filet smelled delicious, and a big baked potato sat next to it.
"I ordered the meat cooked medium. I hope that it is okay?" Grigori asked.
"Perfect. It looks and smells delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I was.”
Grigori sat down to eat. He knew he needed to ask Melisande about her work with the tapestry, but hated to break the mood. Even though they were not talking, their feelings were comfortable and intimate. Once Melisande realized they were alone, she relaxed. As she ate, he felt her contentment coming through the mating bond. Grigori himself relaxed somewhat as well. Melisande's emotions were already affecting him. Their emotions combined and amplified as they flowed along the cord linking them.
They finished eating and moved in unison to sit on the couch before either spoke again.
"When you work on tapestries, what happens in your mind?" Grigori asked, putting his arm around Melisande. She hesitated a moment, but seemed to come to a decision and answered.
"I can see the people who worked on them. Sometimes I can pick up their feelings and learn things about them,” she said. "The piece today hides a secret in its threads. The weaver was ill. His wife did most of the work.”
"You can tell that from handling the tapestry? Have you ever tried to read other objects?"
"When I was a kid, I tried. Once I picked up an old knife that had been used to cut up animals. I felt the owner’s emotions coming through the handle, the animal’s fear still clinging to the blade. He had liked slicing up something that had once been alive. It scared me, and after that, I was more careful of what I tried to read. I also worked to develop defenses so I didn’t accidently do a reading on something used for killing or butchering. Before developing defenses in my mind, I was careful not to touch anything old, or belonging to a stranger, or I wore gloves. But now I can turn on my ability when I wish and keep it off the rest of the time.”
"But you can pick up on who made the object, as well as who owns it now?" he asked.
"Yes, I pick up on their emotions. When something is created a lot of energy goes into it. So sensing who made it is easy. The person who currently owns it must put their energy into the piece for me to feel it. They must touch it often or wear it. I didn’t sense Lady Ashtown at all in the tapestry. After she bought it, I don’t think she handled it much.
"How do you read objects?"
"I think it has to do with the energy. The people touch the objects and I pick up on their essence, the energy left behind. Sometimes in a tapestry I can see patterns in the threads—how things happened and why. It is rather hard to explain.”
"Do you realize you are using psychic energy to see your patterns?"
"How is that possible? I mean I know never to mention what I feel from a piece. I never have proof anyway, so why would someone believe me? I knew what I was doing was different, but I didn’t realize it was a psychic ability. I thought it was a fluke.”
"I felt the energy clearly today while you
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