58

My mouth is probably open right now.
Kaya, Veah repeats. I promise, I can
I’m not mad.
You’re . . . not ?
No, I say, still mesmerized by the glow of the water, frothing at the edge of the white marble floor. I know it was a lie.
Her eyes widen. In the turquoise light, her eyes are almost green, and her hair is a deep blue. She looks mysticalshe looks like a goddess.
I figured it out, I whisper. You didn’t go through withdrawal while we were together.
I could have found my fix somewhere else.
You didn’t leave my sight, not once.
But . . . She shakes her head. How ? How could you
The answer is simple. I trust you.
Her eyes search mine, like she is looking for doubt, for confusion, for hesitation. And she finds none. Because I have trusted her since the moment she took a bullet for me in my kitchen. Even if I denied it, even if I tried to run away . . .
So . . . I say, trying to catch my breath from the heat of her stare. This plan of yours. It must be good, if it involves lying to the Wolf.
A grin. Oh, it’s good alright.
Sudden worry strikes me. You know, that was a risk earlier. What if she hadn’t believed that show you put on ? And what if she had forced you to put that stuff in your body ? You’d be high right now.
What can I say ? A half-smile. I was convincing.
I hate you, I moan. Seriously.
Veah takes out the plastic bag from her pocket, slitting it open with a knife. Emptying it.
Please tell me you didn’t just put meth in the water.
She raises an eyebrow. Worried it will lower your inhibitions ?
Well, the meth will dissolve and its distribution throughout a pool that is half the size of a football will be next to nonexistent. So, no, I am not worried about lowering my inhibitions, but I’m sure there is a rule about dumping a plastic bag full of drugs into a bathhouse.
I open my mouth to tell her just that, but
Somethingmaybe it is the way she is looking at me, or maybe it is the intoxicating scent of steamstops me.
Maybe rules aren’t really my priority right now.
I ask, Does your plan include staying here tonight ?
Her smirk is ridiculously attractive. It actually does.
Warmth rises in my cheeks. Then you won’t mind, will you ?
Mind what ?
I am already pulling off my shirt, tossing it behind me. It only takes a moment longer to let my pants puddle on the floor, until I am in nothing but my bra and panties.
Simple black, but from the way she is looking at me, I might as well be dressed in the rarest silk.
Or nothing at all.
The idea burns through me, and I know a blush must be pinkening my skin. Steam clouds between us like a veil, and I use it to my advantage as I take my first step into the pool.
The water is warm, and it is bliss against my tender skin.
How many injuries have I gotten in the past week alone ? Probably more than in my entire life.
Each step into the water makes me moan. The gentle ripples lap at my skin, kissing my thighs, my ribs, until I am shoulder-deep and the edges of my hair swirl over the surface.
Are you coming or not ? My voice echoes. Bold. Daring.
For once, it doesn’t feel like I’m pretending.
And I realize it is because she makes me feel like that. She makes me feel beautiful.
When I look back, Veah’s eyes are black with desire.
The steam laces through the air, and even from a distance, anticipation unfurls within me.
I think I’m ready to jump her bones.
Her eyes still on me, Veah removes her jacket. Her shirt. Her pants. My eyes slide lower, to the valley between her breasts, to the taut edges of her stomach.
My mouth becomes dry.
And with each of her lithe, graceful strides into the water, something in my stomach coils. Electricity, twisting and writhing.
Oh, you’ve got it bad, my conscience whispers.
With every step, the waves slip over her, glossing her skin. Her hair darkens in colour, clinging to the sharp curves of her face as she submerges herself shoulder-deep.
Face to face now, she is so close I could touch her if I dared.
The water is glowing around us, casting her face in turquoise shadow. Carving her features in dark curves and beautiful edges.
What’s this ? she whispers, as she traces one fingertip against the scar on my collarbone.
A homeless woman from the shelter. She wanted the coat I had.
Her eyes darken, as though she might rip out the spine of anyone who has tried to hurt me. And this ?
A little nick on my chest.
Walked right into a bookshelf. I laugh softly. It was at the public library. I didn’t show my face there for months.
How about this ? Her words are a breath.
I frown at where she is pointing, a healed cut on my arm. It looks a couple weeks old. I don’t know. I don’t remember.
A couple weeks ago, we were at the Halloween party.
Veah said she wasn’t the one who handcuffed me, which begs the question : Who did ?
Probably some drunk frat boy, I tell myself. And maybe I hit a door. Maybe that’s how I cut my arm.
I don’t really believe it.
But I say anyway, I saw a tattoo behind your ear once, and I wanted to ask you about it. But later . . . I guess I forgot.
Veah seems to know what I’m talking about, because she smooths back a lock of her hair, revealing the elegant curve of her neck.
It’s a little bee.
What does it mean ? I ask.
The water froths between us. Veah lifts a slender shoulder. I believe that there doesn’t have to be a deep philosophy behind tattoos. I think that if something is beautiful, you should cherish it, surround yourself with it. It was Kant’s theory of aestheticism in art in 19th century Europe.
I have never felt gayer than in this moment of my life.
Talking about the history of art with a beautiful girl who is less than five feet away from me, dressed in almost nothing.
And . . . I catch her hand, circling her knuckles with my fingertip. I’m curious about her. This ?
I never noticed it before, but on each finger, she has a spiraling tattoo.
A different aspect of my life. Honor. Bravery. Freedom. Loyalty. And love.
A sword. A serpent. An ocean wave. A rose stem. And her pinkie
The night I first met her, I thought it was special makeup. But I realize now that the tip of the finger has, indeed, been cut off.
How ? I breathe.
When I pledged my service to Okami, she wanted me to prove myself to her. She gave me the knife, and she waited. So I . . . I drove it through my own finger.
I recoil. Holy shit, Veah.
It was that or lose my parents, Veah says, with quiet ferocity. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to save the people I love. Her voice falters. If someone ever took you, hurt youKaya, I would move heaven and hell to get you back.
A slow smile forms on my lips. Heaven and hell ? You sure God wouldn’t remind ?
There is something dark and ferocious and hot about the way she looks right now.
If you were in trouble, Kaya, not even God could stop me from getting you back.