Chapter 14
Pyxlevir had buried himself in work for days, and his reward was a full weekend of peace ahead of him.
Normally, he enjoyed relaxing or hanging out with his family, but he’d moved out and committed himself to a year under the same roof with the man who’d left him six years ago.
His overarching goal remained to take a stab at making his matebond work.
However, Pyxlevir wasn’t sure where to begin.
Staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom for the past hour had resulted in zero inspiration.
What he needed was some sleep. And a damn explanation from Gramlithyn.
What the fuck was so horrible about Pyxlevir that Gramlithyn couldn’t overcome his aversion to having a partner? Pyxlevir blew out a breath.
That was a question Pyxlevir had posed to himself on countless occasions. Only one person could answer that, and he wasn’t anywhere near Pyxlevir’s bed. Which was a pity. If Pyxlevir weren’t pissed at the man, he’d strip off his pajamas and invite himself into the hybrid’s suite.
Biting his lip, Pyxlevir snorted. While his dick was happy to rise at the thought of Gramlithyn now that the hybrid was back in his life, he had zero experience. Pyxlevir could imagine a sexy scenario, but he’d probably wind up turning Gramlithyn off further if he slid naked into the man’s bed.
His belly rumbled, and Pyxlevir thanked his empty stomach for the interruption.
He’d already jerked off as soon as he’d switched off the lights, and he didn’t need another reminder of how repugnant he was to Gramlithyn.
What he needed was a snack and a few hours of sleep so he could hang awkwardly around the apartment until he could return to work again.
Pyxlevir shoved off his blankets and sat up.
Wiggling until his feet hit the floor, Pyxlevir stood and straightened his pajamas.
As usual, the pattern on his pants was wild.
The grinning purple carrots were hand-selected by the talented seamstress, Larissa D’Vairedraconis, and she kept his dresser drawers full of fun options.
Since his eyes had adjusted to the dark, Pyxlevir didn’t bother switching off the light as he slunk out of his bedroom.
The apartment was quiet, and Pyxlevir was grateful to be alone.
It wasn’t peaceful. Such a mundane emotion was apparently beyond Pyxlevir these days, despite his best efforts.
Any sense of solace had flown out the window the second he’d learned Gramlithyn had returned to Vegas.
Despite the rings on his toes, his feet made no sound as he padded to the kitchen.
Pyxlevir yanked open the fridge and grabbed his nearly empty container of radishes.
A return trip to the grocery store would be necessary soon, but Pyxlevir hoped to sneak out on his own so he wouldn’t have to spend another awkward minute of his life being ignored by Gramlithyn in the vegetable aisle.
Being avoided at home was far more comfortable, Pyxlevir mused as he closed the refrigerator door and plunged the kitchen into darkness again. He snagged a radish and raised it to his lips. A heartbeat later, he froze as the unmistakable sound of the front door opening registered.
Everyone was in bed. Were they being robbed? Pyxlevir’s breath grew choppy. Should he scream? The room was suddenly flooded with light. Pyxlevir squeezed his eyes shut and yelped.
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” a familiar voice said.
Trembling, Pyxlevir managed a shaky chuckle as his gaze clashed with Gramlithyn’s. His mouth dry, Pyxlevir had to swallow to make any sound.
“No worries,” Pyxlevir replied.
In a snug T-shirt, sweats, and sneakers, Gramlithyn’s carroty scent was overwhelming. His hair was messy, and he was standing inches from Pyxlevir.
“Are you okay?” Gramlithyn asked.
“Yep,” Pyxlevir squeaked. “Never better.”
Gramlithyn bent and plucked something from the floor. “You dropped a radish.”
“Whoops.” Pyxlevir hadn’t even noticed that it’d slipped from his fingers. But in his defense, Gramlithyn had terrified him.
“I’m really sorry for scaring you,” Gramlithyn said, tossing the radish into the trash. “I went out for a zebra run, and I thought everyone was already in bed.”
“Yeah, I was, but I got hungry.”
Dismissing Pyxlevir, Gramlithyn stalked to the fridge and yanked out a bottle. He snatched a glass from a nearby cupboard and splashed orange juice into it. Pyxlevir stared as Gramlithyn gulped his beverage in two large swallows. His cock jerked, and he nearly groaned at his own foolishness.
The man had scared Pyxlevir shitless, then proceeded to ignore him. Why his hormones were reacting with delight was a mystery.
“You aren’t eating your radishes,” Gramlithyn observed.
It was on the tip of Pyxlevir’s tongue to lie and tell Gramlithyn he’d already finished, so he could run to his room, but his belly betrayed him by grumbling loudly in the silent kitchen.
To avoid saying anything stupid, Pyxlevir shoved a radish in his mouth.
He slunk to a barstool and hefted himself onto the upholstered seat.
His feet dangled in the air as he watched Gramlithyn pour himself a second glass of juice and grab an orange from the fridge.
“Do you want some citrus with your citrus?” Pyxlevir mused.
“Huh?”
Pyxlevir hadn’t meant to say anything aloud, but whatever. “You’re drinking orange juice and peeling an orange. Are you trying to prevent scurvy or something?”
“Pretty sure shifters can’t get that.”
“Maybe elves can.”
“You preferred vegetables to fruit as a kid; if elves could suffer from any vitamin deficiencies, you’d have them.”
“Any other complaints about me from our childhood that you’d like to bring up?” Pyxlevir asked, unable to keep the bite from his tone.
Gramlithyn’s gaze widened at Pyxlevir’s sharp inquiry. “I didn’t mean that as a complaint. You liked veggies. So what?”
If he wanted to keep his feelings of rejection a secret, he needed to think before he spoke.
“I still prefer veggies,” Pyxlevir replied.
He cleared his throat. “You never pointed out that I didn’t eat much fruit, so I was surprised to hear you say that.
” It was a terrible explanation, but Pyxlevir had to salvage the conversation somehow or Gramlithyn would slither out of the room and they’d be no closer to finding any common ground.
“We were friends; it didn’t matter what you ate.”
“Good to know our friendship didn’t end because I refused to pick oranges first among my food choices.”
Gramlithyn’s expression was unreadable, which annoyed Pyxlevir.
Once, he had been able to tell exactly what was on Gramlithyn’s mind with a glance.
Now he had to wait the man out and hope he would say what he was thinking because Pyxlevir didn’t know him.
Pyxlevir had lost his best friend because Fate had intervened in their lives.
While he couldn’t imagine anyone else at his side for eternity, he ached anew for what their matebond had already cost them.
“We grew up,” Gramlithyn said. “Sometimes friendships don’t survive past childhood.”
The barstool scraped the floor as Pyxlevir hopped to his feet and slammed the container of radishes on the counter. One bounced out and rolled across the smooth surface, but he barely noticed.
“Except that we didn’t grow apart, did we? You made a choice. It was your decision to disappear that ended our friendship.”
Gramlithyn sagged against the counter behind him and closed his eyes. “It wasn’t that simple, and you know it.”
“Exactly. You left me with a dirty little secret I had to keep from everyone I love.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t tell you to keep everything to yourself. In fact, I assumed you’d confide in your family. It’s not my fault you chose silence.”
Pyxlevir was delighted that they were finally having a conversation about the subject that had changed his life. He crossed his arms and kept his voice steady as he studied the handsome hybrid with the thick skull.
“What do you think would have happened if I had mentioned anything about our matebond to my parents?”
“I don’t know.”
“I bet you do,” Pyxlevir challenged. Gramlithyn’s gaze hit the floor as Pyxlevir took a step around the island, bringing himself further into the kitchen. “We both remember at six when you told your folks about those kids bullying us at school.”
“A bunch of shitty kids have nothing to do with Fate.”
“No, they don’t. But our parents were friends then. They’re fucking family now. My parents would’ve marched up to your folks and told them everything.”
“Yeah, I assumed the news would spread through the family quickly.”
“Absolutely,” Pyxlevir said. “And we were raised by elves. Tradition demands we bind our souls within days of discovering our matebond. Do you think I’d want to be forced together?”
“No one knew where I was; you wouldn’t have been forced into anything.”
“Did you forget who is in our family? The sentinels would’ve tracked you in less than an hour.”
Gramlithyn’s glass hit the counter with a sharp click, and he stood. “So, maybe you should thank me for spending the last six years away from everyone I know and love so you weren’t expected to commit yourself to a matebond you clearly don’t want.”
Pyxlevir’s mouth dropped open as Gramlithyn marched out.
What had happened? Not once had Pyxlevir stated that he didn’t want to be Gramlithyn.
It was Gramlithyn who’d run off and returned only to immediately suggest they live together so they could start the process of terminating their relationship.
So, why was Gramlithyn the one getting pissed off?
The thought of being with Pyxlevir had driven Gramlithyn away from everyone.
Although Gramlithyn had been clear that he didn’t want a mate before they learned the truth of their connection, Pyxlevir realized that there must be more to the story. He swallowed thickly. He’d been right. It wasn’t just any mate Gramlithyn didn’t want. It was him.
But that was too damn bad.
Fate had paired them for a reason, and if it somehow turned out that Gramlithyn was right and they sucked together, Pyxlevir refused to remain locked in a private hell forever.
He shook his head. He didn’t believe Fate had fucked up, and he wanted his other half even if that person was a stubborn but gorgeous hybrid who refused to see their potential.
Fighting tears, Pyxlevir rinsed out Gramlithyn’s glass and plunked it in the dishwasher. His appetite had fled, but he forced himself to finish the last of his radishes. He flipped the light switch, waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and slunk off to his bed.
Once he was tucked beneath his covers, he closed his eyes and wept.
The past six years had prepared him for nothing.
He still had no idea how to convince Gramlithyn that their matebond wasn’t a mistake.
But Pyxlevir had to stay strong, and he sure as hell wasn’t taking responsibility for Gramlithyn’s choice to run off.
It was imperative that Pyxlevir remember the happy years they’d spent together.
To recall the potential that couldn’t be lost to them despite the heavy distance wedged between them.
Although Pyxlevir had a good idea why Gramlithyn had left, he needed to hear the words.
Perhaps a moment of clarity would give them the best opportunity for a fresh start.
A clean slate was required if they had any chance for a future. The problem was Pyxlevir didn’t know how to communicate with Gramlithyn anymore. He’d clung so long to the image of the teenage Gramlithyn, he hadn’t prepared himself for a different, adult version of his mate.
Pyxlevir had to accept that his best friend was a relic of the past and he had a new person to befriend.
But before they could start that journey, they had to settle the past. He had to steel his heart for the moment when Gramlithyn would admit he’d run not from the idea of a matebond but from Pyxlevir himself.
Then Pyxlevir would demand an apology—Gramlithyn shouldn’t have suggested that he’d left to make things easier for Pyxlevir.
It wasn’t Pyxlevir’s fault Gramlithyn had left behind his family.
Gramlithyn had made that decision on his own, and whatever consequences he faced were Gramlithyn’s damn fault.
Pyxlevir could accept that he wasn’t Gramlithyn’s dream partner, but he refused to take any blame.
Fate had put them together. If Gramlithyn wanted to be pissed at someone other than himself, he could berate the goddess who’d put them together in the first place.
Because despite Pyxlevir’s inability to envision his life with anyone else but Gramlithyn, he’d still have some choice words for Fate if they ever crossed paths.