LEGACY RISING by Rachel Eastwood Page A

Companion,” he repeated, eyes trained on the ground between his feet. “That must be nice.”
    “Must be,” she echoed him.
    “Weren’t you the one asking about the repeal of the Companion Law at the annual?” Kaizen looked at Legacy and found her with her chin between her knees, staring at a dent in the wall.
    “Yeah,” she answered, offering nothing more. “Did you know there are amendments to the Companion law which state that I’ll officially become ineligible if I refuse to marry in ten years’ time? Or if anything should happen to me before then that would render me incapable of bearing children?”
    Oh, Kaizen realized, experiencing a wicked little squeeze to his heart. She has a Companion . . . but they’re not together. That’s why she wants the laws repealed. So she can be free to meet someone else!
    “I didn’t know that,” he answered honestly, brightening up.
    “I suppose you wouldn’t. Men never become ineligible, unless there’s something ‘wrong’ with them, or they’ve already been with their Companion and had their one kid. Otherwise, you just get reassigned another Companion until your fertility comes into question. So you never have to worry about it, probably.” She rolled her eyes half-heartedly. “Let me have another drag.”
    He held the cigarette toward her and she leaned forward, pursing her lips again around its unfiltered tip, then yanking away with a spasmodic sputter.
    “Not for me, I guess,” she deduced, eyes watering. “It’s too intense.”
    “Yes . . . I’ve been told that there are cigarettes which filter some of the toxins out, but this doesn’t have one.” Kaizen considered the cigarette, then glanced back to Legacy and said, “Here. Let me help you. Just . . . hold on.”
    He pulled the smoke into his own lungs, willing the harmful chemicals to bind there and stay, then shifted toward the girl and braced her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. Most people might find such a gesture alarming, but Legacy’s eyes remained even and receptive, as if he couldn’t possibly hurt her, not in her mind. He leaned into her space—until he could feel the heat of her skin radiating onto his own—and applied the slightest pressure with his thumb, opening her mouth. His lashes tilted up and down as he examined her features, but he didn’t dare close his eyes.
    The smoke coursed between them, tying them together, and Legacy inhaled the dizzying vapor. Her own eyes were shut.
    Kaizen had never been this close to a girl before. Even touching one. Even sharing a breath together. It was almost too much, and he worried he might just burst.
    Flywheel hummed overhead, forgotten by both parties.
    Legacy exhaled luxuriantly, a cloudy sigh escaping into the space between them, buffeting off of Kaizen and dissipating. Her eyes opened, still so even, still so receptive.
    Kaizen’s fingers skated lightly along her jaw, trailing down her throat, over the makeshift scarf, and then lingering on her solar plexus, half-spellbound, half-hesitant. Her heartbeat pulsed under his fingers.
    “It kind of hurts, but at the same time, it feels good,” he said, unable to break from her eyes. “Kind of . . . bittersweet.” Like being so close to someone you couldn’t possibly ever have, but feeling, at the same time, like . . . maybe you could. “I’m sorry,” he told her in advance, crossing the line between them and pressing his mouth to hers.
    She yielded with warmth, almost calmly submissive, as if accepting the motion of the lead in a dance.
    But this was Kaizen’s first kiss, and behind it the pent-up pressure of years. He couldn’t have ‘calm.’ He couldn’t have ‘warm.’ He pushed his tongue into her mouth, his free hand into her hair, and her back against the stairs. Incredibly, her fingers clung to his lower back, her legs curled around his in welcome, and Kaizen groaned under the sudden, acute agony of their separation. Friction contributed to their