Chapter 2
By Pyxlevir’s eighteenth birthday, a giant pit had formed in his belly.
Something was wrong with Gramlithyn. It had been a mere month since his best friend had turned eighteen, but it didn’t feel like such a short time had passed.
Pyxlevir didn’t have to question why every day stretched like an eternity.
It was easy to understand. He spent countless minutes and hours awaiting any communication from his best friend.
For the past twelve years, they had texted, called, and shared memories in person together.
Now Gramlithyn was pulling away, and it terrified Pyxlevir.
The last thing he wanted was distance between him and Gramlithyn.
Pursing his lips as he stared at his reflection, Pyxlevir took in the short elf staring back at him and wished he could summon some excitement for the party his family had insisted on throwing for him.
Celebrations where Pyxlevir was the guest of honor weren’t his favorite thing—he preferred not to be the focus—but he’d long ago grown accustomed to his parents’ desire to make his birthdays as joyous as possible.
And they never embarrassed him or overwhelmed him. Pyxlevir had the best family.
But this year, Pyxlevir was finding it difficult to gather himself.
Gramlithyn was acting weird, and he was leaving soon for a three-month vacation without him.
Since Pyxlevir had been invited and declined, he couldn’t be angry with Gramlithyn for his desire to go, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss him and Colburn.
What concerned Pyxlevir were the sudden cracks in his closest friendship.
With a heavy sigh, Pyxlevir righted the deep purple-and-black silk tunic Evlithar and Cadlyr had made for him and sat heavily on his bed.
A horrid voice in his head reminded him that not every friendship lasted forever. Life had a way of pulling people apart.
But Pyxlevir refused to allow his close bond with Gramlithyn to fade into nothing without a fight. Pyxlevir shook his head, and his gaze landed on the zebra beads he insisted on having added to his braids each time his hair was done. That little reminder of his best friend brought him comfort.
No one but Pyxlevir knew that Gramlithyn’s presence hadn’t always filled him with solace.
As Pyxlevir had grown up, his imagination had run wild.
Dreams had filled his head both at night as he slept and as he skipped through his days.
He’d romanticized his relationship with Gramlithyn and convinced himself that Fate had made them best friends so they could be mates someday.
Pyxlevir had allowed himself to secretly fantasize about it until Gramlithyn announced that the last thing he wanted was a mate.
His dear friend didn’t want to be tied down to anyone, including Pyxlevir.
Gramlithyn wanted a free, unburdened future.
After learning that, Pyxlevir had wept heartbroken tears into his pillow, but he hadn’t allowed his foolish visions to affect his friendship.
Gramlithyn hadn’t conjured up a life with Pyxlevir, and it’d torn him apart.
It hadn’t been easy, but Pyxlevir had tucked his feelings into a box and allowed them to wither.
He had forced himself to accept that Gramlithyn was his best friend and nothing more.
Someday, they would juggle how to remain close while putting their mates first. As Pyxlevir had grown up, he’d grown grateful that Gramlithyn wouldn’t be his mate since his best friend was so opposed to the idea.
Maturity had made him realize that matebonds weren’t easy.
Even his own parents—who adored each other—had nearly ended their relationship.
The last thing Pyxlevir wanted was to lose Gramlithyn.
That was an unacceptable fate. So, being friends was far better for them as it was less fraught with danger.
Surging to his feet, Pyxlevir lifted his chin and strengthened his resolve.
His party would be fun, and in the morning, Pyxlevir would focus on Gramlithyn.
They’d work out whatever was festering in Gramlithyn’s head and mend this distance.
A thought popped into Pyxlevir’s mind, and he narrowed his eyes.
Was his best friend upset that Pyxlevir had declined to go on the camping trip?
Because if that was it, Pyxlevir was going to tell Gramlithyn off.
It was Gramlithyn and Colburn who wanted to go, knowing Pyxlevir and Crispin didn’t enjoy camping.
They were free to celebrate their graduation however they wanted, but they couldn’t expect everyone to fall in line with their plans.
And it was stupid and immature to allow that to affect their friendship.
Pyxlevir didn’t like that his closest friends were gallivanting off for three months, but he’d accepted it because that’s what adults did.
They were eighteen now, and they needed to stop acting like children.
Preferring not to lose his temper, Pyxlevir took a deep breath and reminded himself not to jump to conclusions.
He’d talk to Gramlithyn and quit allowing them both to put off discussing the strangeness between them.
It wasn’t surprising that Gramlithyn hadn’t said anything if he was upset.
He wasn’t confrontational, and he preferred not to hurt other people’s feelings.
His kindness was a lovely aspect of his personality.
But it was also annoying that he didn’t charge into Pyxlevir’s face to tell him when he was upset.
With a smile, Pyxlevir wondered if his best friend had rubbed off on him because this strangeness was weeks old and he hadn’t yet forced the issue.
The phone on Pyxlevir’s dresser beeped, and he walked over to find a text from Gramlithyn.
His best friend wanted to swing by despite the party not starting for another thirty minutes.
Reminding himself not to corner the hybrid and demand answers before a celebration, Pyxlevir sent Gramlithyn a message assuring him he could get his tall butt to the house whenever he wanted.
Pyxlevir patted Kalliope’s head as she slept peacefully, then he walked out of his bedroom and found his father standing in the living room with his arms crossed.
Chieftain Valzadari wore an expression that was both exasperated and amused. It took only seconds to understand why. Three of the five centaurs in the house were breathing in helium to make their voices higher and giggling at each other.
“Grown men,” Kalthekor said. “Veterans of wars. Pillars of their community. And this is how they amuse themselves.”
“Dad has been nuts since you met him,” Pyxlevir reminded his father.
“He likes that about me,” Aristos shouted in the squeaky timbre allowed by the helium balloon in his hand. His brothers, Inachus and Demaratos, erupted into laughter. Pyxlevir couldn’t help a chuckle of his own at their silliness. He had the best family.
“They have been doing this for twenty minutes,” Kalthekor informed Pyxlevir. His tone was dry, but he was grinning.
“Record them on your phone so we can tease them later,” Pyxlevir suggested. “Gramlithyn’s coming over, can you send him to my room when he gets here?”
“Of course. If he is coerced into playing with helium, I will text you.”
Laughing again at the bemused centaurs, Pyxlevir thanked his dad and headed out of the living room.
His mood was picking up. Although he was terrified of any distance in his relationship with Gramlithyn, he resolved to fix it in the morning.
And no one could be in a bad mood with a bunch of chortling centaurs nearby.
As he waited for Gramlithyn, Pyxlevir straightened his already tidy space and patted the leg of his doll, Leydira.
The blue elf doll was his favorite toy. She’d been purchased on his first shopping trip with Aristos, and his centaur father had eagerly bought her for him.
It’d been Pyxlevir’s dream to have a doll, but he’d somehow convinced himself they were for girls only.
Thanks to the magic of Grand Warlock Dra’Kaedan D’Vaire, Leydira’s skin was blue like Pyxlevir’s, and her current outfit had been made by Evlithar.
Pyxlevir had been clutching her to his chest the day he’d met Gramlithyn, and they’d bonded immediately over toys.
It wasn’t long after that that a similar doll was added to Gramlithyn’s room, and despite being teenagers, no sleepover was complete without Leydira and Gramlithyn’s Erironarra.
In full reminiscent mode, Pyxlevir never heard his door open.
But his life changed a heartbeat later. His cock hardened in his silk trousers, and his first erection startled him.
Everything around Pyxlevir slowed as he turned his head to lock eyes with his gift from Fate.
There in the doorway was his best friend.
His mate. The scent of carrots filled his senses as Gramlithyn took a step into the room and shut them inside.
It was Pyxlevir’s favorite food, and Fate had spoiled him by giving that smell to his other half.
Pyxlevir’s heart thundered in his chest, and he could not process all the sensations barreling through him.
For years, he’d begged Fate to bring him his mate.
Once, a long time ago, he’d envisioned Gramlithyn in that role.
But the mixture of emotions in Gramlithyn’s eyes immediately reminded Pyxlevir of why he’d switched to asking the goddess in charge of bringing people together not to match him with his best friend.
As Gramlithyn hovered near the door with disappointment and fear heavy in his brown gaze, Pyxlevir’s soul cried out at the injustice.
Tears slipped down his cheeks, and his erection wilted.
Gramlithyn did not want a mate. He’d echoed that sentiment countless times, and it apparently made no difference if that person was Pyxlevir.
Now, suddenly, the distance that had crept into their relationship made sense.
Gramlithyn was older than Pyxlevir. He was also a hybrid.
A shifter. He may not have needed to wait until his eighteenth birthday to discover his other half.
Which meant that it was not the abstract idea of a mate that Gramlithyn objected to, it was being with Pyxlevir he found distasteful.
If Pyxlevir required evidence, he needed to look no further than the trip Gramlithyn had carefully planned.
The one Gramlithyn did not have to ask if Pyxlevir wanted to take.
As his best friend, Gramlithyn was aware of Pyxlevir’s lack of interest in camping and outdoorsy things.
Not to mention Pyxlevir’s elderly dog that he refused to leave for so long.
Gramlithyn had every intention of spending the first few months of his new matebond far from Pyxlevir’s side.
For once in his life, Pyxlevir was at a complete loss for words.
This was a nightmare come true. Pyxlevir swallowed thickly as visions of a life lacking both a best friend and a mate taunted him.
And it wasn’t a phantom that would be missing from his days.
It was Gramlithyn. The person who knew him best. One of the biggest pieces of Pyxlevir’s heart.
They stared at each other as Pyxlevir silently wept. He had a new awareness of Gramlithyn. Suddenly, he was not just handsome, but sexy. Pyxlevir exulted and was terrified by the punch of lust in his gut.
Gramlithyn bit his lip. He gave an awkward shrug. “Do you want me to leave?” Gramlithyn asked softly.
The last thing Pyxlevir wanted to do was smile his way through a birthday party he hadn’t asked for, but he refused to disappoint his family.
Pyxlevir blew out a breath and tried to gather himself.
But it was pointless. The tears refused to stop.
With a shake of his head, a wave of anger blew through Pyxlevir.
This was Fate’s fault. He’d warned her not to do this to them.
“No,” Pyxlevir managed as his fingers curled into fists. “You’re my best friend. I want you to stay. But…but if you want to go…”
“I’ll stay,” Gramlithyn insisted.
But does he want to? Pyxlevir wondered. It didn’t matter. He’d offered, and Pyxlevir wanted him there. Without another word, Gramlithyn rushed out of the room. Shell-shocked, Pyxlevir stood there with his chest heaving until he had no choice but to hurry to his attached bathroom for tissues.
Pyxlevir blew his nose and stared at the devastated elf in the mirror. Somehow, he had to pull himself together and celebrate his birthday with his family. Fate had fucked up, and Pyxlevir had to deal with the consequences. His gaze narrowed. This did not have to be the end of anything.
Pleased at finding his resolve, Pyxlevir clutched the quartz countertop and reminded himself that matebonds were forever.
Perhaps Gramlithyn wasn’t ready. Maybe he needed to take a trip to experience new things and spread his wings a little.
That was fair. But Pyxlevir wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the connection of their souls.
A wave of hurt had Pyxlevir closing his eyes. Their matebond wasn’t what Gramlithyn wanted. But maybe with a little time and distance, he’d gain a different perspective. A few months away and Gramlithyn could hopefully discover that the best mates around them were also the closest of friends.
This was not the end of a friendship but the beginning of something newer, richer, and that had the potential of fulfilling them both if they allowed it. That if was terrifying, and Pyxlevir had a sinking feeling that his future had already careened out of control.