Page 66 of Throwing Fire

“You really think anyone else could give me what you do?” I ask her. “You’re my one in a billion.”

She chuckles into my neck. “So I’m one of twenty-seven.”

“How’s that?”

“Aren’t there like twenty-seven billion people in the universe? That means I’m one of twenty-seven.”

Silly kitten. “Then you’re my one in twenty-seven billion. There’s no one else for me, Kez. I’ve been waitin’ for you my whole life.”

She lifts her face, worms up until we’re nose to nose. “Really?”

“Yeah, c’mon, you know that.”

She shakes her head, rubbing her nose against mine. “What about Marin?”

“Fuck, kitten.” Is she seriously jealous of that ghost? “Marin was a pretty girl I saw in a crowd compared to what I got with you.”

“So she was pretty?”

She would fixate on that. “Yeah, she was pretty. And smart. And I admired her. What little I knew of her. Which wasn’t fucking much since I knew her for a grand total of eighty hours?—”

“What? I thought?—”

“I know what you thought. You thought some ghost could compare to you. I’ll say it again, so you hear it this time.I’ve been waiting for youmy whole life. You think I’d ever, ever jeopardize that by even thinkin’ about another woman? Not a chance.” I stroke hersoft head. “Kitten, I need you to start trustin’ me. ‘Cause each time you doubt me is a punch in the dick. And it’s gettin’ kinda sore.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. She wiggles until she’s in a better position to kiss me. Rains kisses over my mouth and jaw. “I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I’ve got no illusions that this is the end of it. A wound that deep can’t be healed in one go. “Just work on it, kitten. Try for me.”

“I will. I promise I will, Hale. And I am so sorry. Please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how this was hurting you.”

Neither did I, until I said it. But it was, and it is. I’m not so closed off from my feelings that I can’t recognize the damage her lack of trust is doing to me. “I’ll survive.”

She strokes the side of my face. “I know you will, because that’s what you do. But that doesn’t make it right. You give me everything and I haven’t been giving it back.”

“Kitten.” It’s hard to explain how much she gives me. She may not trust me with other women, but she trusts me completely with herself, and that trust is humbling. “You give me more than you could ever know.”

She smiles, and there it is, that sweet, sexy, mischievous grin. “I’d like to give you more.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Tonight, whatever you want. However you want it. But, you know, beyond tonight, I’d like to do something kind of permanent. Would you let me?”

“Permanent, huh?” I think through what permanent could entail. Come up empty. “Kitten, you know I can’t contract with you.” As soon as I say it, I know that has to change. Whatever it takes, whatever I need to pay those little creepers in R-and-D, whoever I have to bribe or kill, I’m going to clear my name, so I can contract with Kez.

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” she says quickly. “And, jeez, no one should have to go through a Crackle. No, I thought, if you’d like it, I thought you could mark me.”

“Mark you?” There are a couple of ways I could mark her. Cutting. Branding. Both would be permanent. I skim the backs of my fingers along the curve of her face, down her neck. Appreciating the smoothness of her skin. She’s got a love-hate relationship with her scars. Until Doc Gray offered to regen the scar on her back, she hadn’t made any effort to get rid of them. But they do make her self-conscious. Would adding another scar make it worse, or would it help her see her own beauty? “Yeah, I’d like that. Course, it would have to be reciprocal.”

“Reciprocal? I thought ... wait, do you want it to be reciprocal?”

“Yeah.” I’m not into pain, not the way she is. But I can endure it when I need to. This wouldn’t be any hardship. ‘Sides, I bet if I asked Doc Gray he’d give me some anesthetic so it wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve already decided what I want: a raised mark. Something I can feel. A brand. I slide my fingers over her shoulder, under the wide strap of her nightgown. “Here. So I can feel it every time I put my arms around you.”

“Okay,” she breathes. Her eyes have dilated, the way they do when she’s aroused. I’m glad she’s suggested this. Glad I’ve agreed.

“Matching brands. Where do you want mine?”

“Seriously?” she asks. When I smile, she pushes me onto my back, so she can rub her fingertips over my left deltoid. There’s a roughened patch of skin there, where my company shield used to be, before I took three hits in the arm from some poor fucking miner who just wanted a shift that didn’t last thirty-six hours. “Here,” she says. “Was this a holotat you had removed?”