“You don't have to walk me home every time you see me.”

Chance chuckled darkly. “It seems like anytime I leave you on your own for too long you get yourself into trouble.”

Verity grumbled. “Don't remind me.” Chance wrapped his cybernetic arm around her waist, placing his hand against her too prominent hipbone and pulled her close against his body without breaking stride. “Now that I've got you, you're not getting away.”

He stopped walking and turned toward her, taking her chin in his hands. “You understand that, don't you? You're mine now.” He lowered his lips to hers, and Verity’s stomach bubbled and rolled as the sensation of his kiss traveled through her body. It had only been a couple of hours since they'd made love. Since she'd lost her virginity. And she was ready for more.

They continued walking, but Verity was lost in her own mind. How many horror stories had she heard about girls who had sex with men not approved as husbands? All of them entailed pain and sometimes death, and always a healthy dollop of shame and atonement. But she was already disowned. She'd made sure of that herself. Who was left to judge her? She looked up at Chance’s handsome, strong face and a strange pride swelled inside her at being called his. Only months ago, the idea of being claimed by a man was no better than being reduced to property, like the cattle or allotted acreage. But being Chance’s felt different. With him, it seemed less about how he owned her, and more about how she owned him.

The sun still hid the behind the clouds, and the heat started its daytime assault on Verity’s sense of smell. Cyn City an odoriferous place. No, that was being far too nice. Cyn city stank. The trash piled in the street, and the overwhelming breeze of marsh and compost that came from the swampland near the wall filled the air.

“This is why I sleep during the day,” Chance grumbled as Verity pulled her hand up over her nose.

“Believe me, I'd much rather be in bed with you then out here reeking of trash.” Verity nuzzled into his side.

They walked until the streets turned to cobblestone. The buildings sagged from age and moisture, but Verity’s heart was buoyant. The warmth of Chance’s body against her side held her worries at bay, and each time he leaned down to nuzzle her hair or place a kiss on the side of her head she was reminded that there was good even here.

She'd been told to stay away from him, because he was dangerous. But wasn't being with her dangerous too? Didn't she have her own parcel stuffed full of secrets? And while she felt certain he'd thought it, he never asked, allowing her to keep her own counsel.

At the steps of her building, she pulled away from Chance and took his hand. “Let me talk to Wicksham. He doesn't need to see some big mean looking cyborg at my side while I'm paying my rent. You might give him a heart attack.”

Chance shook his head. “You really think you're going anywhere without me?”

Verity rolled her eyes and huffed at his smirk. His overprotectiveness was surprisingly endearing. Perhaps because she knew that when it came down to it, he knew she could hold her own.

“Okay, fine. But you wait on the stairs, back away from the door a little. Seriously, Wicksham has been very kind. I'd be sleeping in the streets it wasn't for him, if anything you should be abundantly nice to him. If you know how to do that?”

Chance closed in, filling her personal space and wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her neck, licking and nibbling up to her ear before whispering, “I think you know just how nice I can be.”

Verity pushed him away with both hands. “That's not what I mean.” She giggled with a shake of her head before turning and walking away. At the top of the stairs, she realized Chance hadn't been following. She turned, “After all that, are you waiting out here?”

“No, just enjoying the view.” He flashed those killer dimples, and her heart skipped a beat.

Verity couldn't stop the blush that heated her face. He was adorable. Completely over-the-top and ridiculous and for some reason she loved it.

Inside the moldy building, Chance didn't look around with judgment or shake his head at the conditions she lived in. Just like the last time he had been here he accepted the situation as it was.

Verity’s sense of shame over living in a place so run down rotted in her stomach. She hated not having someplace nicer for Imogen. She didn't have a separate bedroom like Chance, so she couldn’t even invite him to stay here. She hated the black mold running along her walls and the greenish mildew growing up from the floorboards. But it was better than being homeless, and that's exactly what she would have been if it weren't for this place and Wicksham.

Verity knocked on the door on the first floor and waved Chance back with her hand. “Go on, stand on the first or second step, so you aren’t the first thing he sees when he opens the door,” Verity whispered.

Chance huffed but complied with her request.

The door swung open, and the familiar scent of tobacco and mildew wafted out in the hallway. Wicksham greeted her with his usual surprised smile. Sometimes it felt like every time he saw her he was amazed she had returned.

“Verity, come in,” he said stepping back and opening the door further into his moist apartment.

“I don't have time. I'm so sorry, Wicksham. I would love to visit. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow?”

Wicksham frowned and turned his head toward the looming cyborg now standing right behind her. Her landlord's face fell, and the frown made him look colder, meaner, more like he belonged to the slums.

“Verity, I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, but get inside the apartment right now.” He reached out to grab her hand, but before he could make contact, Chance’s cybernetic hand wrapped around the old man's wrist. “Do not touch her.”

Wicksham’s eyes widened, and the old man began to tremble.

“Let go of him,” Verity scolded. “I specifically told you to stand over there, so you didn't give him a heart attack.” When Chance released Wicksham’s arm, Verity pushed him in the chest hard enough to surprise him into taking a step backward. Both men looked at her with a tilted head, the similarity so endearing it almost made her laugh out loud.

Verity alternated her eyes between the two men. “Wicksham, this is Chance. He's my friend.”

Chance’s eyebrows raised.

“I have the rest of the rent money for you and next month’s too, so I'm all caught up.” She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope containing all the cash she owed. Chance had helped her count it out and make sure it was in something sealed so she wasn't just handing over raw credits. “I can wait while you check it if you want to, but I promise it's all there.”

Wicksham glanced at Chance and then returned his familiar smile. “No need for that. I trust you. If for some reason there is a calculation problem, I'll let you know. I checked on your friend about an hour ago. She was up and about and cooking something that smelled delicious with the groceries I dropped by yesterday.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. How much do I owe you for the groceries?” Verity reached back into her bag.

The old man shook his head. “No, no, honey, that girl clearly needed a decent meal, and you've been working so hard. It was my pleasure.”

Tears filled Verity’s eyes. She knew how lucky she was to have found a home with a man like Wicksham. She threw her arms around his neck, and he stumbled back a bit. After taking a shaky breath, he wrapped his arms around her and patted her on the back.

“Thank you, thank you so much. For everything.”

“Like I said, my pleasure.” He disentangled himself from her embrace and nodded quickly to Chance. “Well now, be careful with your new friend. And enjoy the rest of your day.”

With that, he disappeared back into the smoky air of his apartment.

When she faced Chance, his mouth was open and his eyes wide. “I told you he’s nice.”

“I don't know if you have this entire city under a spell or something, but people just don't act like that around here.”

“Maybe they just don't act that way around you. Did you ever think about the fact that you can’t have a conversation without growling at people? That might have something to do with it.”

Chance chuckled and shook his head. “Believe it or not, I wasn't always this way. But Cyn City changes you. The slums have a way of chewing people up and shitting them back out.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not on the menu.”

“You're on mine,” he said before reaching out to grab her ribs with his fingers and chase her up the stairs. She rounded the corner with a squeal and came to her door.

“Now, you behave. Imogen is not used to men like you.”

Chance raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Just behave.” Her mock frustration had him chuckling again. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, as she unlocked the four deadbolts separating her from her apartment. When she opened the door, the chains were attached. Good, Imogen had been listening.

“Imogen, it's me, Verity. And I brought my friend Chance. Can you come under the chains?”

“Friend again, huh?” Chance muttered.

A small voice came from behind the door. "What's the password?"

“She set up a password?” Chance asked indignantly.

“No idiot, she’s joking.”

Imogen giggled from the other side of the door and closed it. Verity could hear as she unchained the two security locks from inside and swung the door open.

Verity swept into the room and wrapped her friend up in a hug. Every time she saw her again, she was filled with unrestrained joy. She couldn't believe Imogen had finally come to the city. Behind them, Chance locked and latched the door.

“What smells so good?” he asked wandering further into the apartment toward the kitchenette.

Imogen kept her head down, not meeting his eyes, as she answered. “Nothing elaborate. Just soy proteins, some vegetables, and spices I was able to find in Verity’s cabinets.” She looked over at her friend nervously. “You don't mind that I went through your kitchen, do you?”

Verity's heart swelled at the nervousness in Imogen’s voice. How could she possibly think Verity would care about something as trivial as that. “Of course not, what’s mine is yours. You know that.”

Chances found himself a fork and took an enormous bite straight out of a casserole dish Imogen had used for baking. “Delicious,” he said, around the food in his mouth.

“Do all cyborgs have terrible manners, or is that just you?”

Chance shrugged and took another bite.

Imogen’s eyes dashed back and forth between the two of them.

“Who is that?”

“You don't remember, but when you first got here, Chance is the friend who helped me carry you up the stairs and take care of you.” Imogen swept a hand over the side of her head that had been shaved.

“I remember.”

Imogen looked in his direction and met his eyes for the first time. Chance smiled neutrally, an uncommon reaction to Imogen’s beauty. Her blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes usually had men falling over themselves to compliment her. Chance just said hello and picked the fork back up.

“Is it okay if I eat now? I worked up a bit of an appetite earlier.” He winked at Verity, inspiring a painful blush.

Imogen glanced over at her with eyes wide. “"You didn't.” She whispered.

Verity shrugged. “If I'm gonna break some of the rules, I might as a well break them all.”

Imogen gave her a look that told her she expected to hear every single detail as soon as physically possible.

Verity just smiled.

“So, I've been thinking, this apartment–You’ve done great getting it, setting up a home for yourself, and it's really impressive that you are able to do that coming to the city on your own.”

"But?" Verity asked.

“Okay, but I think should you should both come stay with me for a while.”

Before he'd even gotten all the words out, both Verity and Imogen were taking a step back and shaking their heads no. Verity finally spoke up. “We cannot possibly come stay with you. Where would everyone sleep? It wouldn’t be appropriate for two girls to be in your apartment.”

“What happened to not giving a shit about what was appropriate anymore?” Chance asked, stuffing more casserole into his mouth. After he chewed, he continued. "Listen, it would just be temporary. Until we figure out this thing with Garvan. I don't like the idea of him knowing where you live or getting his hands on Imogen when you aren’t here. Plus, what if your people decide to come after her and drag her back to the compound? Wicksham is nice, surprisingly, but old. If it came down to it, who would protect her.?"

“She can protect herself.” Verity insisted, but Imogen’s shoulders slumped.

“With pressure points?” Chance asked. “Sure, that was totally badass. But look at her. She’s scared. She's not ready to fight. She didn't come here geared up to take on the world the way you did. She came here because she had no other choice. And the guy you took down was drunk. What if someone like one of Garvan’s men came here. Someone like me?"

Chance’s eyes were soft, and she knew that despite his bluntness, his intention was kind. She looked at her friend who had her head so low her hair hung over her eyes.

"Imogen?" Verity stepped forward and placed a hand on her friend's arm. The girl flinched and took a deep breath. "Would you feel safer at Chance’s apartment? There’s an elevator, and he lives high off the ground. His doors are much more secure than this one. He even has a separate bedroom, so you could have some privacy. But it's up to you. We make our own choices now."

Imogen nodded with a small smile. "Anything that might make it harder for them to find me would probably be good."