Chapter 21 #2
It had begun long before that trip. “Something like that.”
“This is a good thing, then,” Dontilvynsan said. “You must be pleased.”
“I am.” Those were far too shallow words for what I felt.
“Then we should let you go so you can chase him,” my cousin said with a slight quirk of his lips.
Vince was still laughing. “Wait until I tell Seth.”
“Please don’t.”
He shot me a glare. “Why not?”
“Wyn should be allowed to tell Seth in his own time.”
Vince opened his mouth, likely to complain, but he glanced toward Dontilvynsan, who stared at him.
They were Crystal-bound mates, like Seth and Kalvoxrencol and Caleb and Zoltilvoxfyn, and as such, they could communicate telepathically.
Vince frowned and crossed his arms. “Fine, but you owe me, Donny.”
“Anything you desire.”
I fought to contain an eyeroll. I didn’t need to witness their flirting. “I need to get ready.”
“Go get Wyn,” Vince ordered. “Seth will like having him in the family.”
I finally did roll my eyes and ended the session. Cincin had woken up, so I snagged her and headed to my quarters.
After I’d found my knees again, I’d raced to the ship.
I hadn’t found Urgg or Seth again and had instead sent a note that I’d suddenly become unwell before hiding.
Either could’ve found me with a simple question to NAID, or probably Edith, who was still slowly infecting all of the Admiral Ven’s systems, but they didn’t.
They had either taken my note for the truth, or they understood something had happened between Monqilcolnen and I, and were giving me the space I needed to think.
I didn’t do much thinking, or well, not useful thinking.
My thoughts went round and round, replaying the kiss.
I’d never enjoyed a kiss that much in my entire life.
It had been revolutionary. Also—not that it seemed to matter at the moment—I didn’t really care for touch or physical affection outside of sex.
I loved sex and had it frequently. Fucking was a central part of who I was and I needed it.
Physical affection such as kissing, hugging, or touching? Not so much.
Monqilcolnen was different. I had an instinct to touch him, consume him, claim him. If I wasn’t careful, I would form a mate bond to him very easily. That wasn’t wise, because I highly doubted this would go anywhere permanent.
We couldn’t become something permanent, for all of Monqilcolnen’s promises.
I flopped onto my back, and my wings twinged.
I hadn’t let them out all day. As I was in an empty cargo bay and it was late, I slipped my shirt off and began to undo the leather harness on my chest. The buckles and ties came undone with practiced ease.
The harness fell to the metal floor with a clink of the buckles striking, and my wings flared.
The muscles pulled and stretched as I flapped, making me moan.
I needed to release my wings more frequently, but I rarely had time.
One of my wings, while small, stretched to past the length of my arm, while the other didn’t even meet my elbow.
My left wing was malformed. The bone at the top was twisted, and the talon nearly poked through the membrane. It was very small and crumpled.
While drakcol who are born via a uterus are rarer, I was one of those children. The malformation could and did occur to kits in fetal tubes, but most assumed my disability comes from being born via uterus. It didn’t. The malformation was a matter of genetics.
Nothing could fix it, and I had long ago come to terms with not being able to fly. Now, as an adult, I wasn’t even angry about it, and if there were new technology that suddenly allowed me to “fix” my wing, I doubted I would use it. I was happy with who I was, including my wing.
But I so despised the pitying looks, the offers to take me flying, or the congratulations on making it so far in my life.
It irritated me beyond measure. So I didn’t usually allow my wings to show when I was with other people, except for my intimate partners.
Anyone who was a long term fuck friend of mine didn’t care about my wing, nor did they make such remarks.
They saw me for who I was, and not my wing or my inability to fly.
Part of me worried about how Monqilcolnen would see me.
Did he even know about my wing? Seth did, and he didn’t care.
Caleb had learned of it as a ghost, and now he had his own mobility issues; it was something we’d connected on.
Caleb was also using his status to help Barcoltin, a disabled woman who led the movement for accessibility, meet with the Cohort.
I didn’t know how much they were accomplishing, but I supported them both.
While others didn’t care, would Monqilcolnen? And did he know?
My medical records were in my file, but he couldn’t access them without cause. Me becoming his assistant for a few weeks wasn’t cause enough to look into my medical files.
My eyes fell close as I lay back on the ground. Which did I prefer? That he had looked or hadn’t looked?
I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed in the slightest, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be. If he was, did I wish to be with someone who would view me as less than? I scoffed. That was a non-question. I refused to fuck, let alone court, anyone who saw me in such a light, regardless of who they were.
Even if Monqilcolnen didn’t see my wing as something that made me deficient, that didn’t mean others would not.
I shook my head. I was going in circles.
This wasn’t productive. I could already feel a worthlessness I’d banished long ago resurfacing, and I wouldn’t allow myself to undo cycles of hard work.
I was perfectly happy and content in my life, which was worthwhile regardless of my origins.
Monqilcolnen coming in didn’t enhance or detract from my worthwhileness, and I refused to let even a single thought of that ilk take root.
Sitting up, I unbraided my hair and massaged my scalp as I stretched my wings. More relaxed, I snagged my screen and began to work on my AI kill code.