Dahlia took a sip of coffee, looking serene. She sat tailor-fashion in the large kitchen chair, comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt. Her long hair spilled down to her waist, a cascade of black silk. The mass left damp spots on the shirt.
Nicolas shifted his gaze to the numerous IDs. “Did you find anything in there that will help us?”
“Not really. What about your people? Do they have the connections to check on Jesse’s background? We could use a little help.”
“Lily has top security clearance and she can hack her way around any security system. I called her while you were in the shower.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “She said to tell you she was very happy we found you, and it made her feel as if she weren’t quite so alone.”
Dahlia ducked her head, unable to hide her expression from his probing gaze. Lily had always meant so much to her, even when Dahlia was certain Lily was no more than a figment of her imagination. She couldn’t readily identify how she felt knowing that Lily was real, that she was alive and was happy to have found her. It felt as if a long-lost family member had surfaced. She struggled to contain her emotions.
“Dahlia, it’s okay to show your feelings. You know everything I’m thinking.”
He thought she might smile, but she didn’t. She sat in the oversized kitchen chair with tears on her lashes and looked up at him. “No I don’t. I’m not like you. I told you, I’m not telepathic. I can reach out if the energy is right, and I can answer if the other person sustains the contact. Jesse was strong. We could talk together. You’re strong, you maintain the bridge, but I’m not reading your thoughts. I feel your hands on my body, or your mouth. Whatever you’re thinking, somehow transfers into a strong sensation. You’re broadcasting, but my brain doesn’t hear it. My body feels it.”
Nicolas sat down slowly. “It’s hard to take this in. Most of the GhostWalkers work off telepathy, at least to a great extent. The concept of using energy is different. It seems impossible for me to think something, you not hear my thoughts, but feel what I’m thinking.”
“We all give off energy. Emotions give off energy. You have a particularly strong sexual attraction for me. The energy is strong, and it finds me.”
“Has it ever happened with anyone else on any other level? You felt what they were thinking?” He stayed very calm, breathing in and out, but now he was tuned to his own mind and body, and the ripple of unease, of dark, dangerous violence, was acknowledged as part of him and let go.
She shook her head. “Lucky you. It’s only been you.”
He kept his expression blank, not showing the relief sweeping through him. “I do consider myself to be lucky, even privileged, being as I’m the only one. This never happened to you, even as a child? Maybe with Lily or one of the others?”
Dahlia shook her head. “Never.”
“But you can’t be around people,” he probed gently.
“Strong emotions make me sick. Violence makes me extremely sick. I’ve had seizures before. I hurt someone a couple of times, accidentally. It looks as if I do it on purpose, but when I’m in the midst of violent energy, especially raw anger or the aftermath of death, such as we experienced at my home, I generate heat along with my own emotions and things happen. My own emotions can make it happen.”
“The flames. It appears as if you throw them out there, but it’s just the opposite, it’s lack of control.”
“Exactly, but it can be useful when people think I do it on purpose.” Again that faint smile touched her soft mouth. Nicolas tried not to stare at her mouth or allow his mind to dwell for too long on the possibilities of kissing her.
She put her coffee cup on the table and leaned back. “Do you realize I know nothing at all about where I came from? I don’t even have a family. You must feel very lucky knowing your grandfather. Tell me something about him.”