"You just pulled out your tooth."
"I know."
"With your face. By yourself. With NO ANESTHETIC—"
She takes it. Slow. Reverent. Small wet thing in her hand—four inches, sharp, white at the tip, dark red at the root. Heavy. Solid.
Her eyes are very wet.
"Keer. I am extremely turned on right now."
A laugh comes out of me.
"STOP THAT."
"What."
"You laughing makes your whole self vibrate and you are very large, Keer, and I cannot handle that right now. I am holding your tooth, Keer."
"Mel."
"I am holding part of you."
"Use it. The tip is sharp enough. Open my skin with it."
“Open?—oh right. I was trying to bite you.”
Her face scrunches, focusing.
She lifts the tooth. Holds it carefully. Sets the point against the skin of my shoulder, above where she was trying. Her hand is shaking.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
"I might."
"Mel."
"What."
"I just bit through your shoulder and locked us together for hours. I think we are well past worrying about tooth-cuts."
A laugh escapes out of her, breathless.
She presses the tooth in.
It opens my skin clean. Sharp. Wolf-tooth, made for this. Blood wells up immediately. She drops the tooth onto the pallet. Leans in. Sets her mouth over the cut. Bites down with her human teeth this time, where the skin is already broken, and takes my blood into her mouth.
The wolf in my chest goes still all over again.
Different stillness. Reciprocal. Bonded back.
She holds it. Then pulls back. Mouth red. Eyes red. Eyesalive.
"Hi."
"Hi."
