---
Lily's fingers tightened against the chair before she could stop herself. At first it was only warmth, a pulse beneath her skin that did not come from her own heart. It moved deeper than blood and gentler than command, like something inside her had turned its face toward a distant flame. She drew a slow breath and forced herself not to react too quickly.
The warmth came again.
This time it carried shape.
Not pictures. Not sounds. Nothing so cruelly clear. It was more like feeling carried through water. A pressure of closeness. A growing thread between Sekhmet and the twins. Trust, desire, relief, surrender, all tangled together in a way that made Lily's throat tighten even though no one had touched her.
