[ The heavy hand on his waist turns to a viselike grip, breath-stealingly close to the serpentine scar that slithers across his abdomen. Matt imagines the flesh under Marazhai's fingers bruising like magnolia petals. He imagines his scar splitting open, leaving his insides to unspool across the altar like so much festooning Love-Lies-Bleeding. This guy wouldn't patch him up like Bella, Matt's pretty sure. No, he'd go exploring like Danny did--the way Danny still wants to. The way Lauralae did, sex and gore mingling on her tongue. None of that stops Matt from sighing, an abrupt, eager hmm, and arching up into his grip.
Show me is yes, despite its somewhat atheistic timbre, so he pauses a moment to consider. Matt doesn't know how hot he's running in Fahrenheit or Celsius, but he's dimly aware that too much heat just cauterizes. You don't really experience it. He breathes a soft sigh that cools the tips of his fingers from white-hot to a gleaming marigold.
Then, deliberately, his fingers touch down, forming a four-pointed constellation: shell of the ear, earlobe, soft spot under the hinge of the jaw, throat. The latter lands just above the rose stem still wrapped around Marazhai's neck. Matt watches the stranger intently, alert to signs he's gone too far--or perhaps not far enough. ]
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Show me is yes, despite its somewhat atheistic timbre, so he pauses a moment to consider. Matt doesn't know how hot he's running in Fahrenheit or Celsius, but he's dimly aware that too much heat just cauterizes. You don't really experience it. He breathes a soft sigh that cools the tips of his fingers from white-hot to a gleaming marigold.
Then, deliberately, his fingers touch down, forming a four-pointed constellation: shell of the ear, earlobe, soft spot under the hinge of the jaw, throat. The latter lands just above the rose stem still wrapped around Marazhai's neck. Matt watches the stranger intently, alert to signs he's gone too far--or perhaps not far enough. ]