After class, I've got about an hour to myself to dwell on it.

I'd known about the dangers of using sigils directly on the body, of course. But when Variad told me of the crossing method, I'd been too preoccupied with other thoughts to worry about it much—the fact that there's a sigil etched on my soul. That I'll have to draw it on someone else or get them to draw it on themselves in order to return, should I ever cross back through the Gate.

But it's not like it's a death sentence, I insist to myself. It's just...risky.

After all, the primary risk of sigils is that they tend to sink into you wherever they're drawn, making it a difficult and time-consuming process to fully remove them. From there, they just sort of continue to sap your Umbra to fuel themselves—and if your need of them ceases, their intent degrades and they become erratic.

But I have plenty of Umbra, and E.J. to help me find a way to scrub the sigil off myself and whoever else it might be used on. After all, she got most of that one sigil off of Pollux, didn't she?

Deciding not to let myself worry about it for the rest of the night, I tear my clothes off and set myself to the monumental task of finding an outfit worthy of my first night back together—sort of, I think—with E.J.

My first night for something, at least.

I hope.

I end up settling on a short dress I'd designed and printed at the mountain house. Off the shoulder, cashmere-soft but cottony cool, and in melting shades of lavender and lilac. Peaking out from beneath its low collar, a strappy lace bra in orchid violet emphasizes my chest—and matches my thong.

Leaving Boon to keep an eye on Mittens this time, I head out for the lift.

When E.J. opens the door for me not long after, her response is so strong I almost feel it as my own. Her free hand goes up immediately to tug at the collar, and before the sight of the grayed skin beneath can upset me, the scent of her blood changes as her chemistry reacts to my presence—taking on a fiery sweetness.

And just like that, I'm distracted.

She steps aside to let me in, expression pointlessly careful. "Did you forget we have dinner to get through before—"

My eyebrows shoot up. "Before?"

She flashes a canine in a crooked smile. "Dessert."

"I don't know what you mean," I say, trying not to grin as I brush past her to install myself on the couch.

She narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head, clearing her throat as she makes her way over to the kitchen, separated from her living room by a bar-style countertop. "You can turn the wallscreen on, if you want some background noise."

I grin over at her. "Need a distraction?"

"Just being a courteous host," she shoots back, opening her fridge.

Smirking, I nod to Somi and the screen flickers on.

"How about something funny? I'm not picky,"

"Alright," says Somi, and the melting colors of the home-screen coalesce into a scene. A moment later, the audio kicks in.

"Oh, I've heard of this one," I say, leaning back and folding my legs up under myself. "Haven't seen any of it yet, though. This is that one that's set just before the Fall when the Signs were still enforced, right? The one with—"

"The one where the Theodrasi maid and the Zhadradi Duke fall for each other? That's the one. It's my favorite."

I turn to look over at her where she hovers in the kitchen. "I didn't know you liked aethercasts, Somi." I scrunch my nose, looking back to the show. "But how is it funny? Sounds more like a historical drama."

"It's framed as one," says the little servitor. "But it's wickedly satirical, and the main focus is on the culture shock between the two and the ludicrous extravagance of pre-Fall society."

"Oh."

"Somi, cut it out. She's going to realize you're the one with all the brain cells."

"I don't have any cells at all," counters Somi. "But that only makes my wit all the more impressive."

I settle in, listening to the two of them bicker with my attention occasionally drifting to the show and feeling more at home than I have in a very long time. The smells from the kitchen grow more delicious by the moment as E.J. works, the expression of focused intensity on her face making her somehow even more attractive.

When she finishes, she leans on the countertop to peer over the bar at me. "Want to eat out on my balcony?"

"Of course."

Outside, the night sky is a rich, star-spattered indigo, and the warm breeze smells of honeypetal and sea salt. I step up to the balcony, my hands curling around the rail as my eyes turn turn upward and outward to soak in the beauty before me.

The beauty of my home.

Setting a tray carefully down on the table behind me, E.J. pads up to press her body lightly against my back, hands coming to rest at either side of mine as she nuzzles my hair.

Her warmth penetrates my skin, her energy radiates into my body, my spirit. A thrill runs down my spine as she shifts closer, thigh coming forward just enough to graze mine.

We stay like that for several moments, staring out at the sky as we drink in each others presence.

"We should eat before it gets too cold," E.J. whispers after a moment as she pulls grudgingly away. Stepping over to the table, she holds my chair out for me and I take a seat—watching as she distributes our dishes and pours our drinks with the elegant precision of a five-star server. After whisking the tray away, she returns to take her seat across from me, and finally we begin to eat.

My appetite kicks in as the first bite crosses my lips, and before I know it I've finished the salad with its almond slivers, dried berries and creamy poppyseed dressing and moved on to the lemon-butter whitefish and roasted garlic potatoes.

"E.J, this is fantastic. All of it."

"Glad you approve. I just hope you still have room for the final course."

I smile down at my nearly empty plate as I finish the last few bits of food and set down my utensils.

E.J. stands the moment I finish to clear away the used dishes, returning shortly after with a tray of pink-frosted strawberries balanced in one hand.

"Oh, my favorite!"

"Yes and no," she hedges, setting the tray on the table and taking her seat once more. "I made a small adjustment to the recipe."

My heart rate picks up, and for half a moment I hold my breath out of instinct. But then I exhale and breathe deep, allowing myself to savor the scent of her new ingredient.

I don't need to ask what it is.

My hand shakes slightly as I reach out to pluck one up, but she beats me to it—extending the candied berry to my lips. Another thrill travels across my skin as tiny branches of Umbral light flicker across it. I freeze, immediately entering mitigation mode. But E.J. brings up her other hand to cradle my jaw, tilting my head up until I give in and meet her gaze.

"You don't have to do that right now, Ash."

"Yes, I do."

No thoughts but darkness.

"No. Just let yourself be for once. Let yourself feel. I'm not wearing this thing for nothing."

No feelings but calm.

"But the other shifters in the Lodge...if I have a full flare—"

"There hasn't been a single Umbra storm since the semester begin. Once we get into the rains, that'll change...and quickly. Better they have some experience of it before it becomes a frequent occurrence."

At my look of skepticism, she brushes a thumb across my cheek, exhaling slowly.

"You're a Reaper, so I'm not sure if you can sense them all. The people in this house. But I know where each and every one of them are. The Shifters know their responsibilities. Most of them are alone right now or with other Shifters. The ones that aren't should have their storm restraints with them"

I shake my head. "I wasn't kidding about wanting to learn control. I hate that you have to wear that thing." I reach out to hook the collar with my pointer finger, drawing her face nearer to mine. "I want you to have a chance to let go too...not like—like that night, but like I know you used to with Beatrice. To just partially shift, into the form you feel most you in. Isn't that what all your restraints are for?"

"You know full-well those restraints have many uses," she grins, though the expression falters almost immediately. "But you also know how well that worked for us last time. We can't rely on restraints alone, and your flares makes it almost impossible to stay in an intermediate state." her voice lowers, eyes intense as they bore into mine. "Besides, neither of us are ready for that and you know it. I'll tell you when—if—I ever think I am. And if you're not ready to let go tonight either, I respect that." She pauses, easing back from me a moment as I release her collar to compose myself.

"But please at least try the strawberries. I put my blood, sweat and tears into—"

"Oh spirits, please tell me you didn't put your sweat or tears into that," I groan, eyeing the berry as she lifts it once more to my lips. She laughs.

"Alright, just my blood," she concedes.

At last I give in, and she eases the confection past my lips to meet the tip of my tongue. I bite into it, and the berry bursts in my mouth with flavors I can only describe as orgasmic. My eyes squeeze shut for a moment as I savor the taste, then go wide as I open them to meet her expectant gaze.

"Fuck, J. You're delicious."

She laughs, but there's an edge of darkness to it.

"The feeling's mutual."

I devour the rest of the strawberry, then lick its juices off her fingers—then her hand wrenches away from my lips to find purchase in my hair.

"The things I would do," she whispers, leaning forward into me, face half buried in my curls. "For another taste of your blood. Your flesh."

"Take it," I say immediately, my voice little more than a trembling hush. "Either one. So long as its not too much, you can heal me. I'll be—"

"Spirits damn it, Ash."

She pulls away, brows slamming together, the ever-present static of her Umbral power surging like a hive of invisible, angry bees. But then she groans in pain, pulling at the collar again as the skin beneath it pales still further.

"I want you. I want you so badly it's—well, that's not your responsibility, I just don't want you to doubt my desire for you." She stands up and steps back from me. "But until you've developed a sense of self-preservation, I can't do this."

Her words ignite a sudden spark of anger. "I have a sense of self-preservation. It just happens that I'm confident I can share some of myself with you without being destroyed by it. Do you think I'm weak?" I'm breathing hard now as her expression grows steadily more blank. With some surprise I realize I'm standing up now, though I don't remember getting to my feet. "Why is it I can taste your blood but I can't offer you mine?"

She sighs. "Because I'm bigger than you, Ash. Stronger than you. Because the worst you might do is drain or shock me, and the worst I might do is tear you apart and devour you."

"The collar—"

"The collar would likely get overwhelmed and break, if I were to feed on you."

A frown at that, mind racing for another angle. "Size isn't everything when you've got extra Umbra and the dead on your side, you know."

"You're still new. Inexperienced with your abilities. I'm not."

"That doesn't seem to make much of a difference though, does it? If it did, you'd be able to moderate my mental state and fully control yourself, and none of this—" I gesture at the collar, at the air between us—now thick with our mutual frustration—"None of it would be necessary."

I can't describe the look she gives me as those words cross my lips—only that I feel like the absolute lowest scum of the lowest scum-pits of the world the instant they do.

"E.J, I'm so—"

"No, you're right," she says, all the fight gone out of her in an instant. "We shouldn't have tried this so soon."

Then she stands, turns, and goes inside. Following a moment later, I find her in the kitchen, packing up the remaining strawberries to go. "Here, take these with you if you want, as a snack. Should help keep the edge off any cravings that might come up for Lore, since I'm part Crimson. And don't forget you have the salve, too."

"Please, E.J. Can we just talk about this some more? I really—"

"Not tonight, Ash," she says, and the edge of defeat in her voice seems so wrong coming from her that it makes me a little queasy. Pressing the box with the strawberries into my hands, she walks me out to the lift, says goodnight, and turns away from me the instant the doors begin to close between us.

~*~

I wake up the next day every bit as miserable and frustrated as I was when I went to sleep. Wearing the same dress as last night over some leggings, my hair wild and with nothing more than a coffee in hand for breakfast, I drag myself to Umbran History class on one of the upper floors facing the ocean. I'm almost but not-quite late, and most of the other students have already arrived. Seated over on the edge of her desk, the professor averts her dark-shadowed eyes as I find a seat, brushing her silvery hair back out of her face .

Looks like E.J. didn't sleep well, either.