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He shrugged. “I kind of thought you’d just pawn us off on the first willing human you saw and wash your hands of the whole damn mess.”
“Absolutely not. I have every intention of seeing you all in real relationships with suitable women. Even if I have to move your mouths like puppets, so you don’t say dumb things to the poor girls.”
And even if some tiny part of her cringed at the thought of him with someone else. Gaia, that really was embarrassing. What was wrong with her?
Kahn arched a brow. “You get that we don’t choose Matches, right? It won’t matter how ‘respectable and suitable’ the girl is, if she’s not the one fate chose for me. Isn’t that how it was for you and Hekktor?”
Randa wasn’t wading into that quagmire with him. She tried not to think about Matches at all. The topic produced an uncomfortable mix of fear and longing that she’d just as soon avoid.
“We don’t know all the ways Phazing might work with humans.” She temporized.
Kahn wasn’t so easily deflected. “I appreciate that you don’t want any Light Phases used for their bodies.” He pressed. “Do you feel like you’ve been used for your body? Because no one should have treated you like that, Randa. I can kill whoever did. Seriously. Just give me a name.”
“I don’t wish to discuss my love life. I’m only here to facilitate yours.”
Kahn opened his mouth to argue and then reconsidered. “Okay.” To her astonishment, he stopped hunting for answers and settled back. “We can discuss anything you want.”
Why was he being so reasonable all of a sudden? It had to be a trick.
“You’re wearing the shirt with the little alligators.” She reiterated firmly, in case this was some tactic to avoid presentable clothing.
“I’ll wear what you tell me… Although the shirt does strangle my arms.”
Against her better judgment, Randa’s attention went down to his massive bicep. Her gaze slipped to the long length of his forearm and the strength of his thick wrist. Then, to the width of his calloused palms, which could probably…
“They’re memorials.”
Her eyes slammed back to his face. Oh God. She’d just been caught ogling his arm like it was pornography! “What?” She breathed in guilty shock.
“The tattoos commemorate my parents and my sisters. It’s tradition in my House. Light Phases get them as reminders of those we lost.”
He thought she was looking at his tattoos? No, she’d been too busy objectifying his muscles and fantasizing about his hands. Since she wasn’t a total idiot, she quickly agreed with his mistake. She’d much rather he think she was nosy than a sexual predator.
“Right. Your tattoos. They’re very,” she scrambled for an appropriate word, “bold.”
The tattoos seemed like words in a language she couldn’t read. Something about the arrangement of them struck her as beautiful. They represented a hidden part of Kahn that she’d never been allowed to see before. It was right there on his skin, but also locked up inside of him.
“I have more than most Light Phases.” Kahn studied his arm, as if he was observing the dense ink through her eyes. “Usually, it’s just names or prayers. I kept adding to mine, though. I got caught up in grieving, and they were an outlet.”
“They remind me of poetry.”
“They are poetry. You must have read a lot of poems to recognize that.”
“No, I haven’t.” She said a little too quickly.
Kahn looked skeptical. “Well, I wrote these very bad poems during a very bad time.”
“What are they about?”
“Being stuck alive and alone, with my heart dead in my chest.” He summed up bluntly, like he wanted to push her away.
Randa knew exactly what he meant, though.
“Surviving.” She whispered, understanding the sentiment completely. Understanding Kahn far better than she had just five minutes before. “Going on, when you’re ready to quit. When you have nothing but broken pieces of yourself left, and somehow that has to be enough.”
His brows compressed, as if she’d surprised him. As if he hadn’t considered that interpretation. “Yeah. I didn’t intend for the words to translate that way, but… Yeah. They’re about surviving.” He moved his arm, like he suddenly felt exposed.
“Your family would love them.” She assured him quietly. “They’re a memorial about strength.”
