This chapter is a bit of an experiment with my writing, so bear with me. At the last Writers' Guild meeting I attending, the speaker, a published author, spoke of being careful not to let bodies disappear during dialogue. I realized what she was talking about as I reread this chapter, so I sought to incorporate her advice while I was revising. I think the chapter is better for it, but it is, as I stated, an experiment without confirmed results.

For those of you who think Kit was a bit blasé last chapter, be patient. His time is coming. I was going to give him this chapter spot, but I was too hung up on the beginning of this scene. I loved the image of Nita yelling and flinging roses as He just calmly and smiled at her, perhaps lounging on the coach as she whirled with fury around him.
He didn't react as Nita appeared in his apartment. She flung the roses at Him, thorns snagging the flesh of His fragile human form.

"What the hell are these about?"

Almost idly, He picked up the scattered foliage. "Ah, the ungratefulness of women. I thought you would like them."

"Don't even give me that. And what do you mean, 'nothing but love?' You killed my mother!"

"Now, Nita, dear, you know that is untrue. It was your mother's time, quite apart from any action of my own. I believe I offered you a chance to save her, a chance you did not take." He offered her the gathered bouquet.

"Screw you," Nita spat, tears threatening to spill on to her cheeks. Anger consumed her, momentarily overshadowing self-worthlessness.

"I believe you already did that." He shrugged, and walked across the room and pulled a glass from the cabinet.

"What happened to leaving me alone?"

"You may want to review that conversation carefully." Still moving with what appeared to be casual grace, He filled the glass with water and dropped the roses in it. "I said that you were free to go and that I would not force you. I believe I also said that you would come back and look—here you are." He spread his arms as if to embrace her.

She shied away, ignoring the heat from His body and the strange things it did to her own. "Only to reiterate that I want you out of my life for good. I want nothing more to do with you. No visits, no phone calls, no flowers. Leave me alone."

"The ice in your voice, Nita dearest, could reverse global warming. But you are so tantalizingly attractive when you are angry."

"Don't patronize me."

"Okay." Instead, He slid His arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. She struggled, but He was unrelenting. She felt her resolution slipping, but then guilt pressed into her chest like some tremendous weight, crushing any other stirrings.

She wrenched away.

"Come on…"

"No." She spun abruptly in the opposite direction, facing the bare white wall, so clean and pure… so unlike her.

"What is it going to hurt?" He asked, mildly, as if he were asking about the weather.

Nita threw up her hands in frustration. "That's a list that could take all day, but for starters, we didn't use an sort of protection last time, so who knows what sort of diseases you gave me, not to mention how much I'd just love to tell my father that I'm pregnant by the Lone Power. As fun as that would be to explain, I think I'll pass."

He reached around from behind, suddenly lifting her shirt several inches and tracing a dozen characters in the Speech on her stomach. He spread his hand over them as He spoke a single word aloud. The characters glowed golden before sinking into her skin, tingling as they went.

She froze. "What did you just do?"

"Put an end to your worries. You won't get pregnant now."

"What?" She whirled around to face him.

"It is not permanent. Actually, it is not even all-inclusive. You will not get pregnant by me. Cellular aversion. Our gametes avoid one another. I thought you would appreciate that, even if it is rather ironic: You are drawn to me, even against your better judgment—although I cannot fathom why you would harbor any judgments against me—and I am drawn to you—without reservations on my part. Yet when we are ultimately together, we avoid one another on a very basic level."

"I don't like you using Power on me," she snapped.

"No double standards." He waggled his finger at her. "You have used power over me since the first day in the park."

"I have never."

"Maybe not wizardry, but you have me completely captivated." He smiled suggestively, reaching for her.

Nita stepped back, out of his reach. "I never altered your physical make-up."

"Nor I yours—though you may want to review some of your past actions in wizardry regarding my make-up. Look, it is entirely and instantly reversible—and only by you. If you want it off, just trace your name over the area and speak aloud the ending words. But I cannot imagine why you would: now, you do not have to worry about anything." He reached for her again. "Diseases are also a non-issue. I have none."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"I'm devastated at your lack of trust, darling." She flinched at the endearing term. "You should really work on that cynicism, or you will be miserable for the remainder of your life. This body never had any sexual encounters before you, so unless you have given me something, it is not an issue."

"You might pick something up from someone else you are involved with." Nita felt part of her resolution slipping as he casually tossed away each of her earlier worries.

"There is no one else. I do not want anyone but you. Stop grappling for feeble excuses— I want you. I have all the time left in the universe to pursue you, but I would prefer not to wait."

The guilt washed over her in a tidal wave, wiping out the small What would it hurt? that arose. Dad, Kit, me… "Never again."

"Come now," he asked, sweeping her hair to the front. "You do not really mean that, do you?" He planted a line of kisses along the back of her neck.

"S-stop it," she stuttered, shivering. "I don't want to—" The guilt became a sea serpent, squeezing her heart.

"Then leave," he smirked, not letting her go. His lips brushed the tender skin behind her ear. Hormones assailed the guilt, not eradicating it, but sending it scurrying away into a hole of irrational rationalization.