But Kisten pulled me to him with a rueful chuckle. “Rachel, I adore your teeth,” he said, his silk shirt against my cheek. “They nibble and pinch, and that you can’t easily break my skin drives me fu—” He caught the next word, sensitive to my disapproval. “Crazy,” he finished. “But with you wearing those caps and me knowing you could break my skin?” A sigh lifted through him. “I don’t care if you bite me or not. It’s the thought that you could that’s exciting.”

His hand against my hair was soothing, and the last of my confusion vanished. This I understood. I found a thrill in the same way. Knowing that Kisten could bite me but held back because of respect, will, and perhaps Ivy was enough to get my rush going full tilt. That someday his will might not be strong enough or he might be willing to stand down Ivy was the attraction.

“You…ah, want me to try them on?” I said.

His eyes were dilating. “If you want to.”

Smiling, I shifted my body and opened the box again. “You just slip them on?”

He nodded. “They’re coated with some miracle polymer. Put them on and clench your teeth, and they’ll mold right to them. They’ll come off with a little prying.”

Cool. His eyes were on them, and I set the box on the table, the unfamiliar smoothness of bone under my fingers as I picked them up. Feeling like I was putting on contacts, I fumbled until I figured out which one went where and slipped the molded bone over my teeth. They felt odd as I gritted my teeth. Lips parted, I ran my tongue across the inside.

Kisten inhaled, and my attention went to him. “Damn, woman.” The rim of blue about his pupils shrank. My smile widened, and, seeing it, his eyes flashed to black.

“What do they look like?” I said, jumping up.

“Where are you going?” he said, his voice holding a sudden urgency.

“I want to see what they look like.” Laughing, I pulled away from him and headed for the bathroom down the hall. “Are you sure I won’t cut my lip?” I asked when I found it. The overhead light flicked on, yellow and dim from the low voltage.

“You can’t,” Kisten said, his voice raised against the distance. “They’re designed not to,” he added from right behind me, and I jumped, smacking my elbow into the wall in the tight confines.

“God! I hate it when you do that!” I exclaimed.

“I want to see, too,” he said, an arm curving around my waist and his head tucking into the hollow between my neck and shoulder.