And she knew then:
"You won’t kill me."
Kit’s lashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked and looked over at her. "Why?" He seemed desperate to know.
Maybe the shadows that drew closer in the corners were all the answer either one of them needed.
Rin’s forehead fell against Kit’s. They breathed together, him kneeling before her, her caged against the wall.
He was frozen like a statue. He wouldn’t move. She kept waiting for him to, but he never did. She waited until her legs grew numb, tucked beneath her. It was as though he held onto control down to every last nerve ending. If he used only one to shift, it would break—and she would bear the consequence of that lost control.
Knowing he wouldn’t move, she did for him.
Slowly, Rin shifted down until she lay stretched out on the bed. Each movement made the collar dig into the base of her throat; especially so as she lay flat, it felt like a weight pressing down on her throat, making her breath come short.
Her side was flush against the cool wall, and Kit’s hand fell to the mattress beside her head, making it dip. He loomed over her.
"What are you doing?" Kit bit out. She grabbed his hand on instinct. It was cold even through his glove. Hard, too. He looked down at where she held him, his brown hair falling into his eyes. "I can’t feel you."
Her fingers shook as she reached for his glove. He didn’t stop her as she slowly pulled it away. Beneath, he was no flesh-and-bone man. Dark, sleek metal. His fingers flexed as she traced them.
"They did this to you?" she asked.
"Yes. You want to give in to them? You want me to—have sex with you? I am a monster."
She was shaking her head. "You’re what they made you. You don’t have?—"
"No." The word was low, yet it pierced her like a blade. His hand wrapped around her throat, right below the collar. He pinned her to the mattress. She felt the strength in his touch."I will crush you." The tendons in his neck strained as he held himself back.
In fear, her breaths were light and quick.
"They cut me open. Like they cut you open. You can’t be stitched back together again." His hand tightened. "I have to. We have to," he mumbled. "If you die, I will not—survive."
He let her go, then.
He removed his other glove. His flesh was real. The hands she remembered—that would flick the tip of her nose or tap along his jaw as he was deep in thought. Then he unhooked a small strap beneath his arms. His armor plate loosened. He dropped it to the ground with a dull thud. Beneath, he wore a skintight black shirt. His breathing was measured, every movement precise.
She started to sit up, but he placed his bare—real—palm on her shoulder, forcing her back. "Stay."
Kneeling up on the mattress, he then tugged off his shirt. Bare-chested, she could only stare at him. His right arm was utterly gone; in its place was a sleek metal prosthetic. At the crease of the elbow and shoulder joint, small blue veins of liquid pulsed. It was fused to his shoulder, the place where it met his flesh seamless. More metal was grafted over his ribs.
"This is who you let into your body," Kit forced out through clenched teeth. He raised his right hand, staring at the curl of the prosthetic’s fingers. "A monster." His eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowing. "I will not let you die." When he opened his eyes, he quickly removed his pants. He was utterly bare, kneeling on the bed.
A litany of scars, both old and new. Metal and flesh. And staring at her like he wanted to crush her in his fake fist.
He was not hard.
He reached down to take himself in his hand. He stroked himself roughly, methodically, refusing to look at her. He used his prosthetic, and the metal was unnatural against his flesh.
Something was being stolen from them both. He didn’t seem to take pleasure in what he was doing. He growled under his breath, motions speeding up. It didn’t seem to work.
He needed to be distracted.
"Do you remember our past?" Rin asked quietly.
Kit met her eyes, then glanced down to her collar. "Sometimes. They tried to take it away."
She wasn’t sure if he was a virgin in this life. In their two other lives, they’d had each other, time and time again, she remembered. Even if he had never been with anyone in this life, his body still knew what to do. Even if they had taken his memories of their past, his body still knew hers—his Soul still called to hers.
