Beyond Pain by Kit Rocha Page A

to his. "Is it?"
    Probably not. If she twisted logic enough, she could pretend this was just an extension of trusting him with her body. He'd rest better knowing she was safe. It didn't have to mean more. "I might kick you. And hog the covers."
    The corner of his mouth curved up in a slow smile. "I'll manage, sweetness."
    Her pulse had finally settled, but that damn smile kicked it up again. She covered by burying her face in his shoulder. "And I'm grumpy in the morning."
    "Then it's a good thing I already frisked you for weapons."
    Could he feel her lips pulling up into an unwilling grin? Funny that she didn't care. "I'd tell you to say that when I'm biting you, but I think you'd like it."
    "You catch on quick." His chuckle warmed her temple. "Sleep. It'll be all right."
    I know. But that didn't stop her from staying awake long after Bren had drifted off. His heartbeat thumped beneath her ear, steady and soothing, and the warmth of his body wrapped around her, but she couldn't stop trying to memorize the details. The weight of his arm over her, the press of his thigh, the way the hair on his chest felt under her palm as she spread her fingers wide. Maybe if she filled her head with enough good things, the bad ones would topple out the back.
    Either way, she wasn't going to take one damn moment for granted.

    The single grated window in his room was still dark when Bren woke up. Six curled against him, warm and naked, and he seriously considered ignoring whatever had awakened him.
    A soft noise, barely there but rough, like something gliding over carpet. He glanced over at the door and, sure enough, a folded note had been pushed beneath it. He slid slowly from the bed, careful not to disturb Six, and picked up the note.
    Meeting at ten, Dallas's office. And I want to see that woman of yours this afternoon.
    It was signed with a flourish. Lex, entirely too pleased with herself for figuring out where Six would be this morning.
    Bren tossed aside the note and sat at his table, his back to the wall. He'd already broken down and laid out his oldest rifle, his favorite, the one Cooper had lifted off an Eden MP and given him to train with, years before Bren had ever worn the uniform himself. When he picked up the barrel, it slid into his hand like it had been crafted for him. He could break it down in seconds and put it back together just as quickly--in the dark, if he had to.
    He knew this weapon like nothing else, and it knew him.
    He began to clean it, working silently, his gaze drifting to the woman still sleeping under his blanket. In time, he could learn her like he'd learned this rifle. The only question was whether she'd let him.
    The sun had begun to rise, and soft purple light filtered in through the window. On the bed, Six muttered something and rolled over. The covers slipped away, baring her back in the near darkness.
    The shadows only highlighted the scars on her back, rough and raised, marring what should have been smooth skin. He'd known about them already--even if Six had never talked about what had happened to her at Trent's hands, Bren would have known. A woman like her didn't last long without some asshole trying to beat the fight out of her, leaving behind fear and grudging obedience.
    No, he'd known about her scars. But seeing them was different, somehow. Worse.
    The metal pieces in his hands clinked together, so he set them aside and lit a cigarette.
    It took two for his hands to stop shaking.
    Six stirred again as he was finishing the second, rolling onto her stomach to bury her face in his pillow. She stretched with a sigh before turning her head to squint at him. "Did I sleep too long?"
    "No, it's still early."
    Her eyes drifted shut as she smiled sleepily. "Did I drive you out of bed? I told you I kick."
    She hadn't, not once all night. "Got a summons. I have a meeting this morning, and you've got one this afternoon."
    That brought her eyes open fully. Clutching the blanket to her chest, she twisted into a