Key to Redemption Page 2

  “That is the problem?” Aleksei’s eyes widened slightly. That couldn’t be it; she was far too nervous for that to be the complete story.

  “No, I knew you wouldn’t mind lodging them here. But I will need to borrow the guesthouse for one of the clients.”

  “Gillian.” The black velvet voice rolled over her, a slight warning entering his tone. “Nothing you have told me is so overtly out of the ordinary that you could not have spoken about it among our guests. You already know that everything I have is yours to use or take as you will.” He was discovering that he had a bullshit detector where Gillian was concerned and it was registering high on the scale at the moment.

  A small hand tucked an errant strand of golden hair behind her shell ear, a sure sign that she was very uncomfortable with what she wanted to talk about. “You’re right, but I needed to tell you that first so that I could tell you this next part. And that’s the part I’m afraid you’re not going to be happy about.”

  He was suddenly standing closer, much too close. She could smell the uniquely clean cardamom and nutmeg that seemed to emanate from him. His large, warm hand covered hers where it lay on the steel island. “Gillian, talk to me. What is wrong?”

  “Aleksei, one of the clients is a man with a particular problem. That particular problem requires a very specially trained therapist who is credentialed and certified to handle it.” She cringed a little internally at his use of her given name.

  “And you are trained in this skill?”

  She felt the blush coming before it hit her cheeks and wished that she were armed so she could just shoot herself and be done with it. “Yes I am. I had to take specific postgraduate study for it, train for two extra years and be specifically credentialed in this area in addition to my regular licensure.”

  Blushing. Gillian blushing. Aleksei’s mind was whirling. There wasn’t a great deal which made Gillian blush . . . unless . . .

  “What exactly do you need to do for this . . . man?” His voice had dropped to a deeper register as it often did when he felt she was right on the verge of not telling him the entire truth about something. “Be specific, Gillian. Be very specific.”

  Her eyes snapped up again to meet his at his tone. “I am a licensed sex therapist, Aleksei. This particular client has some real issues with sex and personal closeness. I will need to work on a very close and very delicate level with him, which is why I will need the guesthouse for his lodging.”

  She searched his face to see if that was sinking in. “I have training and credentialing from the Miller-Jackson Center for Intimacy, which hosts the foremost authority and most widely respected program of this type in the world.”

  Understanding flooded his beautiful features, and his eyes lightened to almost white, giving them an eerie glow. “Sex therapist,” he repeated incredulously. “You are a mental health professional who is also trained to provide a sort of sexual healing?” His eyes were locked on her face, and his hand, which had been stroking hers, was rock still, effectively trapping her.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s the best way to put it,” she said brightly, seeing that he understood, “Thanks, Aleksei, I was afraid that we would be here for hours just explaining what a sex therapist was, and that you’d be really upset about this, but you’re really being an adult about it and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.” She took a deep breath after her hurried, run-on sentence, patted the hand over hers warmly, stepped around the corner of the island and leaned upward to kiss him. His other hand against her shoulder stopped her.

  “Am I to understand that you expect me to sit here, in the castle, knowing that you are down in the guesthouse, making love with a stranger? Someone who has, as you put it . . . mental problems and sexual issues?”

  Boy, it had sure gotten chilly in there suddenly. All trace of warmth was gone from Aleksei’s voice. It was pure ice to match his eyes.

  “Not making love, Aleksei, and maybe not having sex either, although that is very likely. I don’t know what the man’s issues are. All I know is that he came to the IPPA and asked for a qualified, credentialed sex therapist. Then Helmut called and told me that they really needed me on this case because they thought I would be the best therapist for the client. That’s all there is to it. This is business, Aleksei, not a personal relationship. A sex therapist simply helps clients resolve problems that otherwise might emotionally cripple them for life, or a million other issues.

  “There isn’t a clear answer here because I haven’t talked to this client yet. I don’t know why he needs my services or what exactly he needs from me. I just wanted to be honest with you before it became an issue.”

  Gillian was rambling, trying to be diplomatic and take Aleksei’s feelings into consideration. After all, if she didn’t care, she would have simply taken the client and the hell with how her Vampire lover felt. No, she was trying to be nice, be part of a couple. Recognize that this was all very new to him: her, her modern ideals, her profession, their relationship. He was bound to be a little jumpy about something like this.

  Now that she had taken the time to explain, things should go smoothly. Uh-huh. Sure they would. And Captain Smith on the Titanic said, “Where is all this fucking water coming from?”

  She moved closer, putting a small hand against his broad chest, not trying to pull her other hand out from under his. “Look, this is why I wanted to talk to you privately. No one else needs to know what’s going on. This is just between us, understand? I am being paid to help a client. That’s it. Period.”

  Wisely, he waited a minute before he answered her. Four hundred years brings a lot of wisdom if you pay attention. Jealousy, anger, betrayal, confusion, all swept across his expressive and lovely face. He didn’t want to feel those things, but just the thought of her being with someone else, touching him, being potentially held in his arms, shook Aleksei to the core.

  Knowing he was being irrational and illogical didn’t help the way his heart was feeling one bit. She was telling him the absolute truth; he could have sensed that from across the room. This was her job. She helped heal people’s minds and souls. Gillian was a very sensual, passionate woman who had no problems with her own sexuality. It was horrifying to her that someone could exist who didn’t know the upside of sex and intimacy between two beings who cared for each other.

  She would want to help him, need to help him. Her empathy was cell deep. She couldn’t sit by and let another be in pain. She couldn’t not help. Aleksei knew all those things and more, having been inside the upper levels, at least, of Gillian’s complicated and brilliant mind. It still didn’t help. This bothered him. A lot. Progressive, modern Vampire—like hell. Now how to convey that without pissing her off to the point that she either staked him or just walked away.

  He took a deep breath and realized he hadn’t been breathing for the past few minutes. “I cannot share you, piccola. Please do not ask this of me. Certainly there is another therapist somewhere who could help this man resolve his problems. I do not wish you to take this client, either here on our property or elsewhere. In fact, I would prefer if you never took a client who has need of this type of therapy.”

  There, he had said it. Direct and to the point. No hedging, no sugarcoating, no power struggle, just the exact words to convey his feelings to her. Honest. Just as she would expect him to be . . . maybe not.

  Gillian’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. What? Was he telling her that she couldn’t do her job? She completely missed him calling the residence “our” property or that he was being very succinct about his feelings. Okay, so he was being polite about it. Extraordinarily polite, in fact. Hell, both of them were being so diplomatic and were so far up on the High Road that her teeth ached and she felt a nosebleed coming on.

  “I know you did not just tell me not to do my job. I know you did not just say something to indicate that you are jealous because you don’t trust me to know what I am doing or that you don’t approve of my professional abilities.” Her voice
was clear, cold, professional and flat.

  Aleksei hadn’t missed the flash in her Nile green eyes. He was treading very thin ice at the moment and he knew it. He also knew he wasn’t going to gracefully approve of his . . . What was she anyway . . . his girlfriend? That sounded so trite. His mistress? No, too cheap. His lover? Definitely. His lover and friend, in fact. He was not going to condone this aspect of her job. Not now, not ever. “I said I would not share you with anyone for any reason.” He never blinked, never altered his tone, never moved.

  Absolute Vampire stillness is creepy when it’s done right, and Aleksei was doing a hell of a job using it as an intimidation factor. It set Gillian’s teeth right on edge.

  “You don’t have a choice as to whether or not I do my job.” Every word was enunciated with alarming clarity. “I only told you this privately as a courtesy and because I cared about your feelings. You aren’t sharing anything, Aleksei. I am with you. This man is a patient and it has nothing to do with our relationship. I thought it would be better to let you know ahead of time what this part of my job might entail but I wasn’t asking your permission.”

  Both winged eyebrows shot up over icy silver eyes that now harbored a red flame in their depths. “Then you have made your choice.” Deep, hollow, cold; his voice echoed through her like the wind from a graveyard. None of the black velvet warmth that usually came with his anger.

  “What fucking choice?” Now she was angry. It sounded an awful lot as though he were deliberately being obtuse.

  “I’m not choosing one over the other, Aleksei. This is my profession. It isn’t about either doing my job or being in a relationship with you. It’s asking you to understand that sometimes my job might entail me doing something that you might find objectionable, while it is perfectly ethical. It’s asking you to be a goddamn adult about this and realize that whatever I need to do for or with this particular patient has nothing to do with us as a couple.” She searched his face, looking for some response, something besides this wax figure standing motionless before her.

  “You do not need to do this job, Gillian. We are together. I have more than enough money to support us for the rest of our very long lives. It is not necessary that you continue this profession at all if you would only desire it.” Involuntarily his hand tightened over hers, warm and firm.

  Then he made a mistake. “There is no reason for you to become what amounts to a paid courtesan for some stranger with sexual problems.”

  White-hot anger shot through her with a force that made her tremble. She couldn’t have heard him right. “Did you just call me a prostitute?”

  “What else would you call it? You are going to provide sexual intimacy for a man you do not know and you are going to be paid. Is there another more progressive term for it?” Okay, now he was being a smart-ass.

  His second mistake was dropping his eyes for a moment so she wouldn’t see how deeply this cut him. Truthfully, male Vampire pride didn’t want her to see the tears he felt beginning to burn. Pride often goeth before a fall.

  Since he was looking down, he didn’t see it coming. Gillian did him the courtesy of waiting until his eyes rose again to meet hers before belting him in the mouth. She missed the tears gathering in his eyes. Unfortunately for Aleksei, she didn’t miss his sculpted jaw. Gill was strong for a Human female. Seven years in the U.S. Marine Corps will do that. Couple that with the small infusion of awesome mystical Vampire foo Aleksei had bestowed upon her the one time they had exchanged blood, and she packed quite a punch.

  It was so totally unexpected that he truly was caught off guard. The blow rocked him backward and bowed his back over the table. “Fuck you, you antiquated, unreasonable, archaic son of a bitch! And to think I was actually trying to consider your feelings! You can go straight to Hell.”

  Gillian pushed past him and stalked out of the kitchen, not stopping or acknowledging Tanis and Jenna’s cheerful greetings as she blew by them in the main foyer. She stomped out the door and down toward the car Aleksei had purchased for her personal use, got in, locked the doors and alternately cried and swore for the next few minutes.

  It was Jenna, with Tanis, Pavel and Trocar in tow, who knocked on the car window. Gillian’s head snapped up from where she had laid it on her arms, leaning against the steering wheel.

  “Sweetie? Talk to us. What happened?” Jenna’s concerned chocolate brown eyes were level with hers outside the window as she leaned down to peer in at her friend.

  Gill loved Jenna. Jenna didn’t ask stupid questions like “Are you all right?” or “Are you crying?” when she could clearly see tears and snot on someone’s face.

  Wiping her face on her sleeve, Gillian got out of the car. Jenna didn’t wait; she hugged her friend. Tanis was at Gillian’s back instantly, his hands on her shoulders, offering a wall of Vampire strength. Trocar gently took her hand, waiting for her to speak, and Pavel paced worriedly behind them.

  “Sorry, guys,” Gillian said softly, none of the recent anger in her voice, “I just have to do a job and Aleksei is being difficult. Difficult and insulting.”

  “Aleksei deliberately insulted you, piccola sorella?” Tanis asked gently, taking Gillian out of Jenna’s arms and turning her to face him. Gillian didn’t let go of Trocar’s hand and was obliged to turn him with her. She met Tanis’s golden eyes with impunity.

  “Yeah, you could say that. It can’t be helped. I have to do a job and he doesn’t like it. I tried to explain why and what it was but he wouldn’t listen.” She wiped angrily at her eyes again as more tears threatened to spill. “I can’t blame him really, but it pissed me off enough that I actually decked him.”

  There was a collective intake of breath, then Tanis chuckled, pulling her against his hard chest and stroking her hair. He was with Jenna now but Gillian was his friend, despite being his former lover. They’d lost the attraction but not the affection for each other.

  “You seem to be accruing similar experiences with both of the Rachlav brothers.” He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “To date, we’ve both insulted you enough to cause you to lose your temper, we’ve both been your friend and lover, and you have, as you put it, ‘decked’ both of us.”

  He put her away from him a little and tipped her face up so she would look at him. “All that is left is a spanking from Aleksei and everything will be even. I’m still one up on him in that area.” Tanis winked at her and grinned.

  Gillian stared at him a moment, then the realization that he was teasing to cheer her up filtered through her hurt feelings and she had to laugh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Trocar was incredulous. “You,” he said, pointing at Tanis, “spanked her?” He pointed to Gillian and looked at her for confirmation. When she nodded, giggling, he turned back to Tanis. “You are braver than I thought, my friend.”

  CHAPTER 2

  AFTER they heard Gillian’s version of the story, Tanis went off to confront Aleksei, swearing under his breath. He understood Aleksei’s feelings in the matter, but dammit, his brother knew what Gillian did as a psychologist. Granted, the sex therapist part was a surprise, but neither of them had any reason to know about that part of her job since neither of them had any sexual issues.

  More than any of that, Tanis trusted Gillian. They’d been together for several months before his kidnapping. He knew that she was a professional, honorable and damn good at her job; he’d seen the difference she’d made with his brother and Pavel. Aleksei of all people should trust her, let her do her job, support her in it and leave his judgmental, archaic feelings the hell alone.

  What he was angry about was Aleksei comparing Gillian to a prostitute. That, his brother would answer for if what Gillian had said was accurate. Several things had pissed her off about that remark, as she’d told Tanis, Jenna, Pavel and Trocar. First, she’d had patients, back in the days when she still saw the occasional Human client, who were prostitutes. Most were single mothers with extenuating circumstances; yes, some were drug addicts, but none o
f them were bad or evil or women with scarlet letters on their chests. She had tremendous compassion for those women, and it bothered her to have what they did vilified.

  Second, there was a world of difference between what they did and what she would be required to perform as a licensed sex therapist. Third, she was proud of her profession—every aspect of it, from regular therapy to sex therapy.

  There were only a handful of legitimate, licensed sex therapy professionals in the world. Gillian was one of them and an august company it was. They were highly regarded by all branches of the mental health professions. Their training was intense, demanding and very, very structured. The guidelines of the practice were rigid and uncompromising. The Miller-Jackson Center for Intimacy had long been a pioneer in the field of sexual disorders and compatibility for Humans, and was world renowned for turning out professionals who entered at the top of the game and stayed there.

  Gillian had brought in the Paramortal perspective since that was her specialty. They developed new coursework and credentials just for her and applauded the journal articles she wrote during the course of her training and research. Now others were coming to apply for certification and specialization in Paramortal sexual disorders and compatibility. They had even renamed the Institute to include “Paramortal Intimacy” in the title. A lot of cross-cultural marriages and cohabitations were occurring since Paramortals had been recognized as “people.”

  Having Gillian as codeveloper of such a popular program was a windfall of credibility for the newly founded IPPA. They were training and turning out therapists to work with all levels and needs of their very mixed bag of clientele. Paramortals occasionally had sexual issues too. Who knew?

  The actual number of therapists was small because it was a very minute, very highly screened patient population that would actually need those specific services. They were exhaustively screened because some saw the profession just as Aleksei did: sort of a form of condoned, legalized prostitution and as a branch of psychology that was better swept under the proverbial rug, unspoken about in polite company.