Calloused palms rest atop your belly, pulling you back to your lover’s firm, muscled chest. Blade breathes into your nape with a sigh, her voice a deep purr in her throat.

It’s a mystery how someone as impersonal and capricious as Blade could be so affectionate. Even now, you are unaccustomed to it— the way she holds you at night, coddling you like a babe.

“You’ve been around Kafka,” She bitterly muses aloud, thumbing at your torso possessively. “I can tell. You smell like her.”