Fired Up

impossible.
    Although the channels were open and stable for the most part, there were some places on the spectrum where the currents were slightly erratic. The disturbed areas appeared to be slowly healing, but she was pretty sure she could speed up the process.
    With a skill that came intuitively, she steadied the psychic radiation of the lamp and guided it so that it resonated with the wavelengths in the disturbed areas of Jack’s dream channels. Within seconds the erratic areas steadied and began pulsing in a healthy fashion.
    “That should take care of the nightmares and the hallucinations,” she whispered. “Now I wonder if I can do something about that medication you’ve been taking.”
    The words were hardly out of her mouth when the lamp flared even higher, creating a storm of ultralight. It was as if her little mending job had turned a key in an invisible paranormal lock, releasing the final level of power within the artifact.
    Jack went rigid, every muscle in his body tensing as if he’d just been shot. His head snapped back, a man in mortal agony. His mouth opened on a choked, anguished groan. He squeezed her hand with the strength of a drowning man clinging to a life preserver.
    A terrible despair slammed through her. She had made a horrific error. She was killing him. Too much energy was flooding through him. No human mind could sustain such a psychic hurricane. She knew that in her bones. The lamp was not intended to work like this.
    That’s why it requires a dreamlight worker, she thought. That’s why you’re here.
    But she sensed that it was too late to halt the process. Nothing could put this genie back into the lamp. Frantic, she tried to control the energy that had been unleashed. But she knew she could not hope to channel the full power of the raging storm of psi.
    “Jack,” she gasped. “You have to help me. We have to do this together.”
    “Yes,” he said through clamped teeth. “Together.”
    She sensed him reaching into the heart of the storm, seizing the raw power that lay there. Only he could control it, she realized. He was the only person who could shut down the lamp. But to do so he needed her to steady the violently resonating patterns of dreamlight.
    Lightly, delicately, she slipped her own energy back into the stream. In a heartbeat, maybe two, she was part of the storm. The sensation of so much heavy psi flowing through her was intoxicating, the ultimate rush. Her hair lifted, dancing around her head as though tossed by invisible winds. She almost screamed with the glorious ecstasy of it all. She really did know how to do this. Every Harper had a talent.
    She forced the currents into a stable pattern. Simultaneously Jack took control of the power of the lamp. What had been a searing, surging blast of raw psi was soon reduced to a focused river of energy.
    The lamp gradually darkened, going first translucent and then finally solid metal once again. The paranormal rainbow winked out. The crystals that had created it turned gray and opaque.
    She looked at Jack over the top of the lamp, dazed and exultant.
    “We did it,” she breathed. She realized she was soaring on the thrill that accompanied the control of so much power.
    Jack’s eyes still burned psi green.
    “Chloe.”
    She knew that he was riding the same sensual high. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. She could hardly breathe, but who needed oxygen? What she needed was Jack. And in that moment she knew that he needed her just as urgently, at least for now.
    The kiss was hot and desperate, bordering on violent. They did not undress each other—they clawed at each other’s clothes. She was vaguely aware of fabric ripping and buttons snapping. Jack unzipped her pants, grabbed the waistband in both hands and shoved the trousers along with her panties down to her ankles. Impatient, she kicked free of the clothing.
    He did not bother to carry her into the bedroom. Instead, he swept out a hand. There was a heavy thud when the lamp hit the carpet. The next thing she knew she was lying flat on her back on the table, her legs dangling over the edge.
    Jack got his own trousers open and moved between her thighs. He put one hand on her, testing, and she almost climaxed then and there. He probed once and then thrust heavily, deeply, into her.
    Shock waves tightened everything inside her. But she was almost maxed out. The tension was unbearable—she was as taut as a bow-string awaiting the release