“Good, ‘cause when we do this, Ireallywant to be doing alotmore kissing.” He paused, as if he was waiting for my agreement, or maybe permission?
“Yes to kissing,” I said.
He made a quiet sound that might have been a laugh, and I found myself wanting to redirect the moment. My skin felt too warm, my pulse edging up in a way I didn’t trust.
“Did the scan turn up anything?” I asked, shifting us back to the work.
“Not much more, but Lyric is deep-diving and should have something more for us later. But I have a loose schedule for guard changes.”
“Can I see?”
He pulled up a schedule, but I couldn’t focus on it. All I wanted to do was stare at Caleb.
Caleb was mine to protect, and that wasn’t a feeling; it was a fact, and facts required action. But being with me was ultimately his choice, even though I hated that and would have to live with it if he backed away.
He needed more information to understand me, so he could decide. Then I could factor in his resistance as I took what was mine anyway.
I watched him work while keeping my usual distance—close enough to reach him, far enough to keep control, far enough not to kiss him again or think about having him inside me. An unfamiliar fear swirled in my belly, and I stepped closer, and even without looking up, he felt it, the way he always does.
“What?” he said, still focused on the screen.
“You need to know about me.”
That wrenched his gaze away from the screen. “Huh?”
I dragged over the other chair and sat down. Where to start?
“You’re mine,” I said, and he rolled his eyes.
“Fuck you, Novak! I’m not?—”
I placed my hand over his mouth, and he stopped talking. “And I’m yours,” I said.
He said something muffled and then bit the fleshy part of my thumb to make me drop my hand. I examined the bite—he hadn’t drawn blood, but it would leave a mark.
I wanted his marks all over me.
“You need to understand what it means when I say there are no lines I wouldn’t cross for you before you decide what we are and whether you’re staying in it.”
He paused, his breath calming as he waited in silence.
“My files are redacted for a reason,” I kept my tone level. “When I was nine, my parents left me at a convent that assured them they would fix the devil inside me.” I touched my neck,brushing the altered skin that I could feel, but no one could see unless they looked closely. I took his hand and pressed it to the skin there, and his eyes widened.
“Collars, for conditioning and training,” I said.
“What the hell?—”
“The convent said they were teaching us how to be real boys,” I shook my head at the memory of Raphael repeating that with a feral grin as he stabbed Sister Mary Agnes through the eyes.
I held Caleb’s gaze. “The convent was a military-funded operation to find children with specific skills to train them to become weapons. When we’d killed the adults who kept us there, we were rehomed into a military facility after we’d killed the staff at the convent. The army wanted a team that had no remorse or morals when it came to killing.
Caleb’s mouth fell open. “They made you a killer.”
“No, Caleb,” I paused and reached up to cradle his face, wanting him to meet my gaze as I said the rest. “I wasalwaysa killer, and Ialwayswill be. You know that, right?”
“I know, but I see more in you,” he sounded confused. “You save people, you don’t—you wantme.”
“I’myourFreak, and I feel things I never have.” I rubbed my thumb across his cheek. “I can’t access emotions the same way as you do, but everything I have in me is built for you.” There was a silence between us, and something eased in my chest, as if the violence didn’t sit quite the same in me anymore. “You make me want something different. It doesn’t erase who I am, but maybe it adds something else to the equation.”
