Page 5 of Throwing Fire

She does, lifting those big blues to me. Her pupils are hugely dilated. Whether or not thirty seconds is too long, the idea is getting her hot.

“You okay with that?” I ask.

“Absolutely.”

I smile and kiss her forehead. “So, talk seriously.”

“Why are we really going out to the Clouds?”

Not the question I expected her to ask, given her earlier reaction. But it’s a reasonable one. I only told Kez we were going out to the Cloudlands to meet with Acker, the leader of the Deep Whites. I didn’t tell her anything about why I arranged the meet.

“Sounds like we’re going so you can spin fireballs with your little friend.”

She bumps her forehead into my nose. Not quite a headbutt, but close.

“Okay,” I concede, before she really does headbutt me. My kitten has an aggressive streak. “I got a proposal for Acker.”

“A proposal?” She tilts her head to the side. “Are you going to offer him Kincaid’s job?”

I chuckle and adjust her in my lap. My thighs are falling asleep. “You know me too well.”

She nuzzles back against me. Tightens her arms around my shoulders. She can feel the clock ticking on our cuddle just like I can. “That might be a really good solution.”

Yeah, it might. If Acker agrees. In hindsight, I killed Old Man Tyng’s lieutenant, Darra Kincaid, too soon. I acted in haste, in anger. Retaliation for an injury to Kez. If I had it to do again, I’d still kill him, maybe even slower than I did. But I’d have taken some time to study his chain of command first.

Figuring out how to reshuffle his subordinates has been a real pain in my ass.

“Do you think the Tyngalings will accept him?” she continues, using our private name for the network of employees, informers and hangers-on that Old Man Tyng left us.

“Some will, some won’t.” There are a few heavy Mods among the Tyngalings, but none as extreme as Acker. But it’s not Acker’s modifications that are at issue. It’s his morals. Tyng had his fingers in a lot of pies, but the heart of the Old Man’s empire was, and still is, the Hex-trade. Acker has less tolerance for the drug than Kez, and her tolerance is pretty low.

Kez scoots up my chest to rub the tip of her nose against mine. “Have you thought any more about divesting?”

“That’s a big word.”

“Hale, seriously.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. And yeah, if we’re still here a year from now, I can see us cuttin’ loose the Hex business.” But if the saga of Kincaid’s replacement has taught me anything it’s that change needs to come slow. “If we do it now, quick, we’ll kill the company’s profits.” This is something I’ve looked at closely, as I’ve learned my way around Tyng’s business. Because for all my teasing, I know how much Kez hates the fact that we’re now the biggest drug-dealers on the planet. “No profits means no credits for the Tyngalings. No credits means no loyalty. No loyalty means we got no oneworking for us, and then we’re right back where we started, tryin’ to stay alive with a big fucking bullseye on our backs and no resources to cover our asses.”

She sighs and cuddles down into my chest again. “I hate it.”

I smooth my hands down her sides, skimming the large, round scar that craters her lower back. Doc Gray’s been doing some regen work on it, and the new tissue is tender. “I know, kitten. All I can promise you is that it’s not forever.”

“Not even for two years.”

“That’s a deal.”

She shifts and I wince as her skin unglues from mine. “My legs are beginning to cramp,” she says.

“Yeah, up you get.” I hate giving her up after sex. No matter how raw I am, no matter how hard we’ve been going at it, I want to stay in her, stay with her, keep that amazing connection between us flowing. But beauty doesn’t last. Never has, never will. Sooner or later, I have to let her go.

She climbs off me awkwardly, flexing the long, taut, runner’s muscles in her legs. She retrieves her pants from the floor. I admire her ass as she bends over. She’s still marked from last night: four stipples of purple-pink across each cheek from the cane I used on her. The cane’s a new toy, so I went easy. Next time we play with the cane, I’m going to give her a full set of cat’s whiskers.

“Dirty old man,” she says, when she catches me ogling.

“Pervert,” I respond fondly. “How’s your ass feelin’?”

“Tingly.” She gives me a little wiggle as she steps into her pants. “The first time I tried to sit down this morning, I nearly jumped out of my skin. It’s totally different than your hand.”