Chapter 6
six
TAMSIN
After cleaning up and finding clothes laid out for me—all in shades of red and orange that complemented Solantus’s natural coloring—I emerged from the bathroom determined to establish some form of communication with my new mate.
The silence between us, punctuated only by the occasional emotional pulse through our bond, couldn’t sustain us forever.
Three days of cultural briefings during my acclimation period hadn’t prepared me for the reality of living with someone who barely spoke.
I needed words, not just feelings transmitted through magic.
I needed to know the being I was now bound to for life.
Solantus had moved to stand by the window, his massive silhouette outlined against the morning light. He’d dressed as well, in what appeared to be loose-fitting garments of a material that resembled leather but shimmered like silk when he moved. His tail remained visible, swaying gently behind him.
“The view is beautiful,” I offered, moving to stand beside him. It wasn’t entirely true—the landscape beyond Sanctuary still bore the scars of the Great Diaspora War—but the morning light softened the devastation, painting it in hues of gold and amber.
He inclined his head slightly but didn’t speak. Through our bond, I felt his agreement, along with something deeper—a sort of melancholy tied to the ruined landscape.
“Did you live out there? Before?” I asked, gesturing toward the wasteland beyond the walls.
A low rumble emanated from his chest, neither confirmation nor denial. The emotions filtering through our bond became more complex—loss, rage, determination. History I couldn’t begin to understand without words.
I sighed, frustration building. “Look, I know we’re technically married, and I know we’ve been intimate.
But I don’t know anything about you. Your world.
Your people. The briefings told me hellhounds come from a realm of perpetual fire, that you’re guardians of some kind of boundary between worlds, but that’s textbook stuff. I want to know you.”
His amber eyes shifted to my face, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with heat that had nothing to do with his natural temperature. Still, he remained silent.
I threw my hands up. “Is this how it’s going to be? Me talking and you just rumbling occasionally? Because I don’t think I can—”
His ear twitched—a pointed, furred appendage partially hidden among the thick black hair atop his head. The movement caught my attention, distracting me from my building tirade. Without thinking, I reached up and touched it, curious about the texture.
The reaction was instantaneous and alarming. Solantus dropped to one knee before me, his head bowed low, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. His entire body trembled slightly, and through our bond came a wave of emotions so complex and intense that I stumbled back a step.
Submission. Pleasure. Pride. Belonging.
“What—what did I do?” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
Before he could respond—if he even intended to—the door to our suite burst open. The counselor from my acclimation period rushed in, her dark eyes wide with concern.
“Oh gods,” she breathed, taking in the scene before her. “Tamsin, step back slowly.”
I obeyed automatically, confusion and alarm making my heart race. “Counselor Patel, what’s happening? I just touched his ear and he—”
“In his culture, that’s a domination cue,” she explained quickly, her voice dropping to a more soothing tone. “He thinks you just claimed him.”
Horror washed over me as I processed her words. “Claimed him? But we’re already bonded. I signed the papers yesterday.”
Counselor Patel moved into the room fully, the door sliding shut behind her.
“The legal bonding is one thing. This—” She gestured to Solantus, who remained kneeling, his throat still exposed.
“This is a hierarchical claim. Among hellhounds, touching the ears is reserved for establishing dominance within a bond. It’s typically done after days or weeks of assessment, once the dominant partner has determined the hierarchy. ”
My face burned with embarrassment. “I had no idea. It wasn’t in any of the briefings.”
“Some cultural nuances are too complex for the initial orientation,” she said apologetically. “That’s why all newly bonded pairs have monitoring for the first few days. The system alerted me when his vitals spiked.”
I looked back at Solantus, still frozen in his submissive posture. Through our bond, I could feel no resentment or anger—only a steadily building satisfaction, as if something he’d hoped for had been confirmed.
“He’s…pleased?” I asked, incredulous.
Counselor Patel’s expression softened. “Hellhounds value strong mates. By claiming dominance so early—even accidentally—you’ve demonstrated confidence he likely finds appealing.”
“But I didn’t mean to…I don’t want to dominate him. I just want to talk to him!”
“Cultural misunderstandings are inevitable in cross-species bonding,” she said, her voice warm and reassuring in a way that reminded me of my mother. “The important thing is how you navigate them together.”
I rubbed my temples, overwhelmed. “So what do I do now?”
“You have three options,” she explained. “You can accept the dynamic you’ve inadvertently established, you can perform the counter-ritual to equalize your standing, or you can complete the dominance claim properly.”
The idea of “completing” something I’d never intended to start made my stomach twist. “How do I equalize things?”
“I’ll send the cultural guidance to your tablet,” she said. “But perhaps what’s most important right now is acknowledging what’s happened. He’s waiting for your response.”
I looked back at Solantus, still kneeling, still exposing his throat. His amber eyes had lifted slightly to watch me, and the intensity in them made my breath catch. Through our bond, I felt his anticipation, his willingness—his hope.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to him directly. “I didn’t know what touching your ears meant. I didn’t mean to claim dominance over you.”
A flicker of what might have been disappointment passed through our bond, quickly replaced by understanding. Still, he didn’t move from his position.
“You can stand now,” I added awkwardly.
Counselor Patel cleared her throat. “He can’t. Not until you either accept or reject the hierarchy you’ve initiated. It’s deeply ingrained.”
I stared at her, mortified. “You mean he’s stuck like that until I do something specific?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
I turned back to Solantus, my embarrassment shifting toward determination. Whatever cultural mess I’d created, I needed to fix it. “What exactly do I need to do?”
“If you wish to equalize your standing, you must kneel as he is and offer your own throat,” she explained. “If you wish to accept the dominant position, you would touch his exposed throat, confirming the hierarchy.”
I swallowed hard, considering my options. The bond between us pulsed with Solantus’s emotions—and to my surprise, I realized he wasn’t hoping for equality. He wanted me to accept the dominant role. The realization stunned me.
“He wants me to lead?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Counselor Patel smiled gently. “Hellhounds have complex social structures. What seems like submission to us might be something entirely different to him. The bond you share should help you understand his true feelings, if you listen to it.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on the connection between us. Beyond the surface emotions, I sensed something deeper—respect, admiration, a desire to serve. Not because he thought himself lesser, but because service was an honor in his culture. A gift freely given.
“I think I understand,” I said slowly, opening my eyes. “But this isn’t what I expected.”
“Cross-species bonding rarely is,” Counselor Patel replied with a knowing smile. “I’ll leave you to resolve this privately. The cultural guidelines will be on your tablet within the hour.”
She departed as quickly as she had arrived, leaving me alone with my still-kneeling hellhound mate.
I looked down at him, my mind racing. Everything I thought I knew about our relationship had just been upended. He wasn’t silent because he disdained communication—he was waiting for me to establish the parameters of our bond. To lead.
The revelation was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Solantus remained perfectly still, his amber eyes fixed on mine, waiting. Patient. Hopeful.
I had decisions to make.