Page 39 of Delivered and Devoured
“That one.”
A beat. She looks at me. The hazel eyes still dark. Still wanting. But underneath the wanting — the careful, sharp intelligence of a woman who has just understood what she wasn’t told.
“So you — all of this — the hunt, the tongue, the ridges, that’s all part of —”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re holding back.”
“I’m holding back.”
“Because I didn’t read the manual.”
The laugh comes out rough and startled. She is lying on my bunk, wrecked and bare, with my taste on her tongue, and she has just called Skiveth pair-bonding biologythe manual.
“Because you didn’t read the manual. And when you do — if you want what’s in it — I need you to choose it knowing what it means.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means forever. One bond. No going back. It means I will know where you are in any station from three levels away. It means I will taste you in the air for the rest of my life. It means you will be the only female who ever makes my ridges go dark.” My forehead against hers. “It means everything I am rearranges around you. Permanently.”
Quiet for a long time. Her fingers on my forearm. The ridge. The idle trace.
“And you want that,” she says. Not a question. “With me.”
“I have wanted that my whole life. I didn’t know who it was for until you walked up my ramp in a lucky top and set off my quarantine.”
Her mouth twitches.
“So tonight —”
“Tonight, I give you everything I can without crossing that line. And the holding back is killing me, Lorri. You have no idea what it costs to have your hands on me and not —” I stop. Breathe. “But the cost is mine. The choice is always yours.”
She looks at me for a long time. Then she lifts her hands from me — slowly, deliberately, a choice — and puts them on my jaw instead. Her warm palms framing my face.
“I’m going to read the manual,” she says. “Every word. And then I’m going to make you a very informed decision.”
“I’ll wait.”
“You’ve been waiting your whole life.”
“I’ll wait as long as you need.”
“I won’t need long.” Her eyes hold mine. “I won’t need long at all.”
The hunt-instinct — the fire, the screaming — goes quiet. Not gone. Quieted. The eye of the storm. Her hands on my face. Her warmth against me. Her certainty, which is notyesbut is notnoand is something more important than both:I’m choosing to find out.
I kiss her palm. My tongue flicks against the heel of her hand. Her breath catches.
“Jazil.”
“Mm.”
“If I run again —” Soft. Sleepy. The crash coming. “Will you catch me?”
My arms tighten around her. My mouth against her hair.
“Every time, little human.” Low. A growl underneath. “Every corridor, every ship, every station in the belt. I will always catch you.” My teeth find the skin behind her ear — light, a promise, not a claim. “And when you’ve read the manual — when you choose me with your eyes open — I am going to chase you through every room on this ship and pin you down and give you everything. Both. All of it. Every inch of what you felt in your hands tonight.” I press my mouth to the place where her neck meets her shoulder. “Slow first. Until you’re begging. Then not slow. And you will not be quiet about it.”
