Chapter 3 #2
I lift my head, the krivva fruit clenched between my jaws. Water cascades everywhere, probably ruining my clothes entirely, but I don’t care because—
I caught one!
“You did it!” Selene cheers.
She throws herself against me, her small body pressing against mine. She doesn’t seem to care that water still drips from my clothes, immediately soaking her front. She hugs me. Me.
Her warmth immediately sinks into me, a burn branding itself across my chest. She’s so soft, so delicate, so…
My arms start to come up, to move to wrap around her as well. I could hold her close, press her against my side until our skin touches and I can feel her heart beat. I glance down at her upturned face and the way she beams up at me with small, flat teeth.
So perfect. I could hold her like this every day. Just to see her smile like this…
My tail starts wagging before I can stop it, pure joy taking over—
CRASH.
My tail sweeps sideways, connecting with something behind me. I spin around, fruit still in my mouth, just in time to see a collection basket tip over spectacularly. Krivva fruit—at least ten of them—roll across the courtyard stones in every direction.
The Drakoon who’d been standing beside me stares at his scattered collection, then at my still-wagging tail, then directly at me.
No. No, no, no.
I spit the fruit into my palm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—let me help you gather—”
“Forget it,” the Drakoon mutters, spreading his golden wings before stalking off, leaving his expensive fruit rolling across the stones. “I’ll just buy myself some new ones.”
I stand there, dripping wet, holding my single krivva fruit, surrounded by the evidence of my catastrophic success.
Of course.
This is who I am. I can’t accomplish anything without causing collateral damage.
Not impressive enough for my family. Not memorable enough for heroes like Sutek.
Not graceful enough to participate in a simple game without destroying someone else’s prizes.
Definitely not enough for someone like Selene.
I look at the collection baskets. The Drakoon had ten fruit before I scattered them. Other guests have eight, twelve, fifteen.
Mine has one.
One fruit. Plus chaos and an annoyed Drakoon.
My brother Valkor would have caught a dozen by now. Would probably have done it with warrior grace and efficiency, impressing everyone watching. Certainly wouldn’t have knocked over another guest’s collection like some clumsy youngling.
What am I even doing here? I should be meeting with Rist right now. Should be presenting our family’s proposal. Should be focused on the mission that actually matters instead of wasting time proving—yet again—that I’m inadequate at everything, even activities designed for fun.
I should leave. Make my excuses. Find Rist and focus on what actually matters—
“Hey.” Selene’s voice cuts through my spiral. “That was actually really impressive.”
I stare at her. “I just destroyed his entire collection.”
“Yeah, but you caught one! On your second try!” She’s smiling like I’ve accomplished something remarkable. “Honestly? He was being pretty smug about his pile. I hated how he kept trying to show it off too. Not saying he deserved it, but…”
Despite everything, I smile. “That’s pretty terrible.”
“Maybe. We did agree to be wicked together, though, right?” She picks up one of the scattered krivva fruit and deposits it in my basket, a sly smile on her lips. “And you still caught one fair and square.”
She’s still here. Still talking to me. Still choosing to be near me despite watching me fail at every possible metric.
Why?
I don’t understand it. She’s witnessed me at my most incompetent, my most undignified, my most thoroughly Khatak.
And she’s still standing here. Still smiling. Still looking at me like I’m someone worth her time.
Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest.
She’ll understand, I think. She’ll help me.
And then… She could be a mate.
The thought hits me sideways, completely unexpected.
I’ve never considered having a mate. That was always something for after—after proving myself, after accomplishing something meaningful, after earning the right to be chosen. Mates are for successful males. For warriors who can provide and protect. For people like Valkor, not people like me.
The family disappointment doesn’t get to have a mate. Not until he’s proven he’s worth something.
But she’s looking at me like I’ve conquered something remarkable.
What if—
I pick up my fruit. The weight feels insignificant.
I should give it to her. Not because I want her to like me… but because I want her to like me.
My logic doesn’t make sense, even to myself. This isn’t just about impressing her to get her help with arranging a meeting. This is more now. I want her to like me for who I am.
And somehow, that’s even more terrifying.
Before I can second-guess, I’m holding it out.
“Here. You should have it.”
She pauses, staring up at me with slightly parted lips. Soft lips. Kissable lips. “What? No, those are yours.”
“I caught it for you.” The words come out more intense than intended.
Something shifts in her expression—surprise, then something warmer.
“Khatak—”
“Please.” My voice is rough with need I can’t quite hide. “Let me give you this.”
Because providing for you—even something this small, this pathetic—feels like it matters more than anything else I’ve done all day. Because right now, you’re the only thing that matters. Of course, I don’t mention any of those thoughts out loud. Couldn’t.
She takes it slowly, her fingers brushing mine. That brief contact sends warmth up my arm.
She bites into the krivva fruit. It’s crisp with a crunch, and I can just imagine the honey-like flavor and perfect ripeness.
Her eyes close in obvious pleasure, a soft sound of satisfaction escaping her throat that does absolutely nothing helpful for my self-control. I’m entirely focused on her. On her pleasure.
Her tongue flicks out, catching the small drop at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s so good,” she moans, staring deep into my eyes. And, Gods forbid, I can imagine her saying that under different circumstances. Specifically, circumstances beneath me. Or over.
Who cares? As long as she’s happy and looking at me the way she is now.
“You should taste it,” she tells me, but I reflexively shake my head. This is for her, and her alone. My gift. Something just for her.
“Are you sure?” Her body is leaning towards mine… She’s close. So close I can see gold flecks in her brown eyes, smell the sweet scent of krivva fruit, feel warmth radiating from her.
“Maybe you’ll prefer to taste it this way,” she murmurs, voice low and teasing.
Then her lips are on mine.
Soft. Warm. Deliberate.
Her hand cups my jaw, tilting my face to accommodate our height difference.
She’s so small against me, tucking against my body as if she’s made for me.
My hands find her waist without thought, pulling her closer until our bodies are flush.
Every thought scatters. Every careful mental barrier crumbles.
Every reminder about missions and worthiness—gone.
She tastes like krivva fruit and something uniquely her, something sweet and addictive I want to chase forever.
This. This warmth, this connection, this feeling of being chosen—not for accomplishments or family name or political value.
Just me.
Soaking wet. Having scattered someone’s prizes.
And she chose me anyway.
When she pulls back, I’m breathless, my heart pounding.
Her smile is pure mischief and warmth and something that mirrors the hope blooming in my chest.
“It always tastes better when you share,” she murmurs.
I can’t form words. My brain has shut down, replaced entirely by the sensation of her lips on mine, her hands still resting against my chest, the way she’s looking at me like I’m worth wanting.
I don’t deserve this. The familiar voice whispers in my head. I should put a stop to this before it gets out of hand.
But for once—just this once—I let myself ignore it.
Because Selene is smiling at me, and nothing else in the galaxy matters.