“Enhanced hearing. It takes some getting used to.”
She looked around the room. At the viewport, the stars, the shadows in the corners. “Everything looks... sharper. More colors. I can see the heat coming off your skin.”
“Infrared. Part of the package.”
She lifted her hand then…
Stopped. Stared.
The black lines traced from her wrist to her elbow, branching like lightning frozen in glass. She turned her arm slowly, watching the traceries catch the light. Her fingers found the edge of one line and followed it up her forearm, across the inside of her elbow, toward her shoulder.
“They’re beautiful,” she said finally.
“They’re mine.”
“They’re ours.” She looked at me, green eyes bright with something I couldn’t name. “I can feel them. Not just see them. They’re part of me now.”
“Forever.” I reached out. Traced one of the lines from her shoulder to her elbow. She shivered again, and the echo of sensation ran through me. “How do you feel?”
“Different.” She made a fist, and something in the nightstand cracked. She looked at her hand with surprise. “Stronger.”
“That too. Be careful with doors for a few days.”
She laughed. Flexed her fingers. Made another fist, more carefully this time. “And I can feel you. Not just beside me. Inside. Like you’re part of me now.”
“I am.” I pulled her close. Let her settle against my chest. “Forever.”
We stayed like that for a while. Her warmth against me, her heartbeat steady and slow. Slower than before. Vinduthi slow.
“I should meet them,” she said eventually. “Your family. Properly this time.”
“Later.” My hand traced the traceries down her spine. “Right now, I want you to myself.”
She laughed. Pulled back to look at me. “Haven’t you had enough?”
“Never.” I kissed her. Soft at first, then deeper, until her desire kindled in response to mine.
“I’ll never have enough of you.”
We wentto the mess hall eventually.
Bronwen had commandeered the main table, and Turnip was somehow standing on top of it, accepting scraps from her hand while the others watched in varying degrees of horror and amusement.
“He likes the protein cubes,” Bronwen explained. “But only if you warm them first. Cold protein cubes are beneath him.”
“That thing weighs two hundred kilos,” Varrick said. He was sitting as far from the table as possible, Sabine tucked against his side. “Why is it on the furniture?”
“He’s earned the furniture.” Bronwen scratched behind Turnip’s ears. The boar rumbled, low and content. “Besides, he’s practically a war hero.”
Bronwen looked up as we approached. Her eyes went immediately to the traceries on Anhara’s skin. Her grin sharpened.
“Ghost boy finally did it.” She vaulted over the table, ignoring Zarek’s resigned sigh, and stopped in front of Anhara. “Let me see.”
Anhara held out her arm. Bronwen examined the black lines with the intensity she usually reserved for weapons.
“Nice work,” she said finally. “Clean bite. Good pattern spread.” She looked at me. “Didn’t fuck it up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
