“Three,” she says. “Four when you poke it like that.”
I grab the tape Brodie left on the desk and start wrapping.
Her hand is small in mine. Her bones delicate. Her skin soft and nearly translucent where it isn’t rough from keyboards.
“You know I need my fingers to work,” she says. “My brain leaks out my fingers.”
“I know,” I say.
“So if you tape it wrong, you’re effectively censoring me,” she continues. “Which is a crime under Gentry law.”
“Gentry law doesn’t apply to me,” I say.
“It does if you’re in my jurisdiction,” she says.
I finish the wrap, smoothing the tape down with my thumb.
I linger a second longer than I should.
Her pupils dilate.
“I need all of you in one piece,” I say quietly. “Not just your brain.”
Her eyes snap to mine.
“Oh,” she says, again. That soft version. The dangerous one.
“You like me in one piece,” she says. It’s not a question.
“That’s one way to put it,” I say.
She swallows.
“Bran,” she whispers. “If you keep saying things like that in that voice, you’re going to make it really hard for me to respect Kael’s no-finger-breaking rule.”
A rough laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“Trust me,” I say. “You’re not the only one having trouble with that rule.”
Silence stretches.
She looks at my mouth.
I let go of her hand like it burns.
“Rest it for an hour,” I say, standing. My voice feels like it belongs to someone else. “Then you can get back to it.”
She nods, a little dazed.
“Stay?” she asks, so quietly I almost miss it.
My chest tightens.
“Yeah,” I say, taking the chair opposite her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Kael can threaten to break every bone I own.
Brady can send me ten more men.
