Chapter Three #2
I shift my attention to Iris as she crosses the platform that leads into my home.
The air is freezing, especially this high up.
But it feels nice as it touches my skin.
My body temperature is much higher than a human’s, making winters on Earth miserable, seeing as humans had managed to ruin their winters by the time we arrived.
The temperature surrounding my home is deadly for Iris, especially with her body temperature. She’d freeze to death.
But she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s wrapped in my cape, and the awe on her expression is everything I thought it would be as she takes in my home.
It’s been difficult keeping my distance from her.
Even now, I want to hold her close to me as I explain everything about this place.
But I know she needs space. I know that if I push too hard, she will snap.
She just lost her planet. That is a heavy burden.
I’ve missed my planet. I’ve missed my home.
So, I partially understand Iris’s bouts of anger or silence as she comes to terms with her new life.
But it’s moments like this that I don’t understand her completely.
She has been enamored every step of the way, including now.
Yet she holds fast to her resentment of what was left behind.
Even after everything she endured for it.
As the door closes and the platform moves down to take us into the house, I take the moment to revel in the proximity of Iris.
It’s been difficult keeping my distance from her.
Especially since we are bonded. I want nothing more than to take her and bury myself so deep inside the warmth of her body, never to leave.
But I can’t. Not if I want this to go smoothly.
Bonding with a human is foreign territory.
And I’ve already seen the effects of my not being close over the past few weeks.
The essence inside of her is running rampant, unfamiliar with the body that houses it.
As the door opens, revealing the living room, Iris steps ahead of me, her body moving on its own accord to sate her curiosity. I smile as I watch her take in the foreign surroundings.
It’s foreign to me to have these fleeting emotions.
And they only seem to exist around Iris.
I want more from her than the pleasure of her body.
I want the pleasure of her company. I want her smile, her laugh, her pain, and her anger.
I want all of it. Every little thing she can offer, I want for myself.
I fought against these feelings on Earth, mistaking them for a challenge—the challenge of breaking her. But the more I tried, the more she proved me wrong, and the deeper I fell into this obsession.
I notice Iris’s breathing has shifted, trembling as the cold sets in.
My home has been empty for years since I left to finish what we began with Earth.
But Leviathan technology is different from human technology, and my home remained warm even though I’ve been gone.
I knew I shouldn’t have let her linger outside for as long as she did. It’s still affecting her.
“I’ll be happy to show you around once you are more settled. We should get you warmed up for now,” I say, leading her to my bedroom.
There is a lot more I have to worry about with Iris now that she’s on Xyrannis.
Even our atmospheric composition is different than Earth’s, our air containing more oxygen than her home planet.
Soon, she’ll begin to feel its effects, just as the lingering effects from the cold have begun to settle within her and the denser gravity.
She has a long road ahead all while dealing with the unknown involving the bond and the loss of her home world.
But I know she’ll pull through. It is one of the reasons I adore her. Her desire to live—to survive. It’s a fascinating thing to watch in action.
Once we reach my bedroom, I place my hand against the wall, feeling the makeup.
After a few seconds, the wall dissolves to reveal the room.
Iris has always been confused by the way my life works.
I don’t use doors. I keep walls, removing them at will.
I make a mental note that I will have to change that now that she will be around.
I leave her to light the fireplace against the wall, and when I turn back to her, she has begun to shiver as she stares out the glass wall.
I release a deep breath, pulling her attention as I approach.
I don’t miss the increase of her heartbeat as I wrap my arms around her.
She’s avoiding my gaze as she always does, so I place my finger under her chin, lifting her head to see her eyes.
I smile, pushing a stray curl behind her ear.
“I’m sorry that your planet went down the road it did, Iris. There was no saving them. I hope in time you will be able to see this as your home,” I say.
She glares at me, gently pulling herself from my grasp. She pulls in a shuddering breath as she removes my cape from her shoulders, pushing it into my hands as she speaks.
“This will never be my home, Remus.”
She turns away from me, moving back to the glass, putting her back to me. And as I study her, her shoulders begin trembling once again.
She would rather be cold than wear my clothes.
My amusement dissipates when I hear the soft sniffle that accompanies her shivering. She wasn’t cold. She was holding back tears. She’s been stoic most of the trip, suppressing her emotions. But it seems she can no longer do that. She’s at her limit.
I feel an ache in my chest.
I want to hold her. But I can’t. I caused this. I don’t have the right. And it takes all my willpower not to drop the mental block between us to understand what she’s feeling. So, I do what I always do. I quietly leave, giving her space until the day she is ready to share her pain with me.