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“Nexusum,” I nodded. “I know them. Your parents are also supplying them with cathynol.”
She blinked several times. “How do you know that? Do you just inherently know everything?”
“Yes,” I said with mock solemnity.
Her nose crinkled in suspicion. “Well, whoever they are, they don’t keep that stuff online.”
“No,” I replied slowly, pinching her nose briefly. “But I know these Nexusum people. And my outside sources are well-versed in how Nexusum operates. We can get the information one way or another if you let us. Do I really need to continue elaborating on this?”
She glanced at the knife that lay on the comforter benignly. She returned her gaze to mine, and with absolute sincerity, said, “Fingers.”
I laughed, scratching my upper lip. “Sure. Fingers. Either way, I might be able to get some evidence. It won’t be anything amazing, and I doubt the feds will do anything with it as-is. But if we were to broadcast it at a certain important event they’re holding, well,” I shrugged. “That could get messy for them.”
Her eyes rounded. “That’s a little brilliant.”
“Tabitha can easily rig up an accidental projection of incriminating images, especially because your parents are doing some kind of ode to their lovely daughter. Right? A slideshow?”
She nodded, eyes falling to trace the tattoos on my chest. “Right.”
I cocked my head, trying to catch her gaze. “Why does this feel like a wedding, by the way?”
Her eyes flew to mine, carrying a hint of panic before she slammed down a mask of calm. “I don’t know. Rich people are weird.”
“Does it have something to do with why you turn into a scared little bunny rabbit when you see a knife?” I pushed. She shook her head mutely. “Are you going to tell me who hurt you?”
“No,” she said automatically. And then like an afterthought, she added, “—one hurt me. I’m fine.”
I nipped her chin. “Stop lying to me.”
“No.” She sighed, threading her arms around the back of my neck and pulling me down into a hug that nestled into my heart in a dangerous way. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s in the past.”
“I have a lot of things in my past, but it doesn’t mean I don’t talk about them,” I replied, kissing her shoulder. “The strongest people are usually the ones who carry the most weight. It’s good to talk about it.”
“You’re so very enlightened Mr. Ghost. What the fuck is your last name, anyway?”
“Casper,” I murmured against her skin, kissing down to her collarbone.
“No, it’s not.” She smacked my bicep.
“It’s not,” I grinned, kissing back to the other side of her neck. I wanted to bury myself in her bubblegum-scented body.
“Ugh, Kael,” she moaned, writhing beneath me. “I don’t think I can even walk after what you just did to me. Please do not turn me on again.”
“Well,” I smiled, kissing the corner of her mouth, “since you said ‘please.’”
Her dark blond eyebrows bounced up. “You won’t?”
“No, now I have to.”
She shrieked, and I laughed before I kissed her until she lost her breath again.
"Ow, Kael, stop pushing so hard,” I huffed as sweat dripped down my temple.
“I’m not pushing hard, you’re fighting it,” he grunted. “Relax.”
“I can’t relax,” I snapped, my eyes screwing shut. “You’re pushing it too—ah! Too hard. That’s too hard.”
“It’s not too hard, you’re too tight. Relax.”
