'?' she asked.

    "My progress journal," Dothan responded. Marran received glimpses of words and ideas pouring from him into the flat screen. The soft tapping and occasional squeak of his stylus against the device emphasized the silence he preferred.

    He stretched, and her fingers found the exact place where the muscles had knotted. He found himself amazed by the inherent strength of her delicate hands.

    '?'

    "Quiet."

    '?' She asked again, a few moments later.

    Dothan sighed, knowing she wished to vocalize. He had worked long and persistently to break her of the habit. Almost everything a viraran should need to communication could be projected. "What is it?"

    She hesitated under the brutal onslaught of his projected displeasure. "He's right." She imaged Tvaren's face.

    "About what?"

    "You should marry."

    The serious tone of her voice charmed him. "Why? I keep you," he said, grasping her hands and pulling her into the chair. Kissing her, the venom merely prickled. Relaxed him. He held her arms above her head, hooking them behind his neck. 'Stay!'

    She sent an image of children, and his home being empty.

    "So?" Her hair, smooth not a mat of curls like an arvir's, slipped smoothly through his fingers. His fingers traveled down the front of her robe unloosing the ties. Dothan spread her thighs, one leg resting to the side of each of his knees. 'Stay!'

    "You are brilliant. Not preserving your line would be a waste." Marran answered slowly, carefully.

    He allowed her to talk in order to amuse himself at her difficulty to form a coherent sentence as his touching aroused her. He laughed silently. "Answered like a true construct."

    The soft hair of her arms stood upright when he pinched her breasts. Tiny papules formed on her skin, she shivered and hid her face against his arm. Dothan pictured silence, and blood.

    "All right. Who should I marry? In your opinion, as my advisor?" He continued to pinch and caress, wondering how long she would try to pursue her strange little cause.

    Marran responded to his caresses, aware of his intent to distract her and make her forget words. She projected a visage.

    "Kylla? Why her?"

    She provided an image of a long interesting conversation.

    "So she is intelligent. But has it escaped your notice? She is not at all attractive."

    Marran, losing her battle to retain her sense, projected an image of sex in the dark, and closed eyes. Don't look.

    She had reverted to quiet so Dothan ended his torment. "What makes you think she'd accept a contract?" He pondered.

    Marran pictured a pair of virar children, herself and Mattan.

    "Kylla keeps your twin, I'd forgotten."

    Dothan released Marran, projecting the ache in his neck joints. Marran massaged the area, softly then with increasing vigor.

    "He thinks her eyes are beautiful, and she responds well in bed."

    Dothan, thinking her spoken efforts effectively silenced, had relaxed under the ministrations. He stiffened, slightly irritated by her vocal interaction but, increasingly intrigued by her words, he asked, "You discuss such things?"

    Marran shrugged. "Upon occasion. If he is nearby."

    "Do you discuss me?"

    Marran whispered, "Upon occasion." Dothan projected mostly a pale yellow amusement but she had seen the growing tinge of dark purple-red annoyance, like ragged flashes. He hated when she spoke.

    His thin lips twisted. "What do you tell Mattan about me?"

    His direct question demanded honesty, but perhaps with a jest to distract him. "I say you have beautiful eyes, and respond well in bed." She licked the lovely artery in the back of his neck. "I say you taste good, and feed me well," she continued. She projected his favorite fantasy, and sent hunger.

    "Do you think it is time to be fed?" he asked, as distracted as she had hoped.