Two beers tipsy and two months ago, Adam bit her thumb hard and Loni sucked air to keep from yelping. His teeth left purple marks and an oval patch of numb skin over her upper knuckle. The bruise faded, but the feeling’s never come back. Damage lingers, pain subsides.

She’s tried to get him to do it again but ironically, he’s lost the nerve: worried, for once, about the consequences of his actions. Biting herself never works. Loni needs his bitter jaw, needs bite marks from toes to eartips. Needs the ache subtracted, finally, from every raw angle of her bones.