Chapter Twenty #2
Zyr purred. A low, rumble, like distant thunder, vibrating from his chest even as the lightning on his skin settled to a barely-there hum. Purred and draped his waiting tail over Robin’s hips, pulling him closer, holding him in every manner he was permitted.
Zyr. Robin’s beithir.
Held by the only treasure that had ever desired him back.
“I doubt I could lift much more than you,” he answered. “I’ve never attempted to quantify it. Crushing is easier. I could crush a lidérc, I believe. We could test the theory.”
“You picked the wrong brother if you were in the market for a human willing to go from zero to fuck that guy, slit his throat,” Robin said with a laugh. “Or crush their ribs.”
“Best I be with someone more measured in their response,” Zyr said, flicking Robin’s spine again. “I can get from zero to crushing on my own.”
“Speaking of crushing,” and again, Robin’s voice took on a serious edge, “in the future, if I say something to you–about you or us–that you don’t think I mean, tell me.
I’m not good at making people feel … cared about.
I meant what I said in the library, those times we talked other things out.
If I’d known I didn’t sound sincere, I would’ve clarified. ”
“I will,” Zyr answered. That first, lest Robin be left thinking he was dodging the ask.
And then, more carefully, “I never thought you insincere. Or uncaring. But I heard your words as generalities. Assumed that you treated everyone as you treat me. Which seemed exhausting but was less unsettling than the alternative.” He shrugged as best he could in their current position.
“No one has ever cared about me before, Raven-Robin. I don’t know how to be wanted. Or liked.”
“I can tell you how,” Robin said after his own moment of quiet. “Ask me, beithir. Trust me, and ask what you need to do to be wanted and liked.”
He didn’t care was the thing. He didn’t need to be wanted. Didn’t require anyone’s approval. He was a beithir, and Winter take everyone who had tried to take that from him, grind him down, break him.
Winter take the Monarchs, especially, for still being able to put him on his knees.
He didn’t care, except when it was Robin. Robin’s measured words and deliberate touch. Robin bare in his arms, holding onto him, asking for trust.
Zyr tugged him that much closer, which wasn’t closer at all. Just a tighter hold. Listened to each breath, each beat of Robin’s heart. Let the world close in and in, until it was small enough to feel as sacred as the dark. Only the two of them.
“How do I keep your regard, Treasure?” he allowed himself to ask. “Yours is the only esteem I care to earn.”
Robin nuzzled against his shoulder, his touch remaining steady and reassuring.
“That was well done,” Robin said against his scales, as he cupped Zyr’s neck, holding him where he was. “I know it wasn’t easy. Because you asked how I wanted, because you pleased me, I’ll tell you.”
But he didn’t. Not right away. He tightened his hand, so Zyr could feel the scrape of his nails. Held him close and hard, like a promise.
“You need to keep to your sales pitch. Be unapologetic for what you are, with no intent to change. You keep the grit that had you staring me down that first day, when you had my ears ringing from your boots. Your sarcasm. Your bite, both literal and figurative.” Robin’s words were as sharp as his grip was sure.
“You’ll need to stay the you they haven’t managed to crush, with his Nora Roberts shelf, who thinks pushy, easily irritated humans are fascinating.
The man who needles me to show he likes me, so I’ll tell him no.
“And I’m not going to ask you if you think you can do all that for me.
I know you can. You will.” Insistent, fierce, paired with another firm drag at his horn.
“You’ll keep your counterargument of a heart.
What’s under your skin. Those are the parts I like best, what it takes a pedantic, cruel bird to find. ”
Not an ask. An affirmation.
“Beithir. Zyr. Tell me if I’m being clear.”
Your counterargument of a heart.
He’d thought he needed nothing, from anyone. That he didn’t mind fading. That he could face the end of his world with only moderate regret.
Robin changed that. Changed everything. Gave him what he’d never believed existed, acceptance without censure.
His skin crackled at the weight of it, emotion seeking outlet, sparking along his nerves. Cruel bird indeed, to find Zyr now, when everything was at risk. To make him wish to survive when he wasn’t sure how.
“Very clear, Raven-Robin,” Zyr answered, raw-edged voice only growing more so.
“My word, that I’ll do as you require. You’re my sacred dark.
The truth I had forgotten how to hear. Not because your soul speaks to mine.
Not because I’m a beithir. Because of who you are, the brilliant, observant human, unafraid to put a dragon on his knees.
Cruel enough to demand it and generous enough to reward acquiescence.
” A sigh, as Zyr pressed his forehead against Robin’s shoulder.
“And now I have to save my home, perhaps all of Faerie, so I might continue to live up to your requirements of me.”
Zyr still had no idea what was afoot. Whether some wayward Gate was working with Kesk and Veroni, not realizing how catastrophic the destruction of the veil would be. Nor did he know how someone stopped such a Gate from doing anything they pleased.
He would try though. For this moment alone, he’d try.