Dumas truly appreciated Mari’s offer, especially since he knew that it wasn’t just a melodramatic exaggeration.  He felt absolutely certain that she would gladly take it all: his grief, and his terror, and his endless fury.  Even if it destroyed her (which it surely would).  However, he’d never let Mari make a sacrifice like that.  “I know you would, Bunny Girl.  But that’s not a price I’d be willing to pay.  I couldn’t live with myself if I ever caused you pain.”<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">As long as I’m myself.</span>Dumas couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about those words set off alarm bells -- almost as if Mari was taunting him, or giving him the clue to a riddle that he didn’t even realize she’d asked.   However, before he could dwell on his feeling of unease, Mari stepped back and climbed up on the bed.  It was a little comical to see her rise above him.  But Duma’s smile vanished when Mari cupped his face in her hands.  For the first time, he gazed upward into her eyes, surrendering himself like a loyal supplicant.<br/><br/>It seemed like a dream as she leaned forward and kissed him.  Warmth flooded through his body, washing away the chill ache of loneliness.  Placing his hand on the back of Mari’s head, Dumas returned her kiss with all the fierce desperation of a drowning man snatching his last breaths of air.  And when her lips were no longer enough, he kissed her cheeks, and her ears, and her throat.<br/><br/>But then Dumas remembered what she’d said right before kissing him.  Pulling back a little, he shook his head.  “Don’t do this just to make me happy.”  Taking Mari’s hand, Dumas raised it to his mouth, gently kissing one of her fingertips.  As he spoke, his words were interspersed with more kisses, each fingertip receiving its fair share of attention. “Say you want it, Bunny Girl.  Say that you want me.”