Chapter 13 #2
Holding up both hands in surrender, I take a step closer. “Let’s get something straight here. I’ve signed a contract to be your cum bank, but I am my own fucking person.”
“You are my companion,” he hisses, tightening his grip on Cielo. The other monster isn’t fighting back, but I can see from his face that he’s in pain.
Guilt lashes through me because this isn’t fair to him. I was the one who forced him to go out. I was the one who convinced him to try the human food he hated.
I was the one who was touching him.
And shit. If Rathyn digs into my head and sees how Cielo carried me in the rain, he really is going to kill him.
“I’m my own fucking person, and if I want to help the guy you sent to babysit me clean up a mess, I’m going to do that. You don’t get to walk in here and hurt him because you’re jealous.”
“Jealous,” he repeats a little more calmly. I can tell from his tone that he doesn’t know the word.
“Envy,” I clarify.
He scoffs and squeezes Cielo tighter. I swear I can hear bones crack.
“Let. Him. Go.”
Rathyn ignores me and turns to face Cielo. He says something in his language, and after a long pause, Cielo speaks back. He’s so much better in the monster’s language. It flows off his tongue like a fast-moving river.
It’s gorgeous.
Whatever he says, it gets Rathyn to loosen his grip and then eventually release him. He looks mortified for a second, and then angry. He says something else, and Cielo looks at me, inclines his head once, then turns and walks out of the apartment.
“What the fuck was that?”
Rathyn takes a long beat to answer. He sucks in a breath, then his claws click on the floor as he crosses the distance between us and backs me up against the counter.
His hands come up, cupping me around the ribs before moving upward. His thumbs find my nipples over the shirt, and he presses hard enough that I only just manage to bite back a moan.
“You are unmarked.”
I swallow heavily. “I’m…what?”
“As my companion, you are unmarked.”
I don’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean. At least, not immediately. “So, mark me.” Is it a bite? A hickey? I can handle that if it means he won’t go around trying to tear the hand off another monster for touching me.
But then his thumbs press harder into my nipples, and suddenly the conversation at the contract signing comes rushing back.
“Wait. Wait. Whoa—”
“I cannot allow you to move around in this world or mine unmarked,” he says, his voice low. There’s a rumble layered beneath it, almost like his purr. “If you were marked, he would not have allowed that to happen. You protested at your tongue, but I believe this will suffice.”
Closing my eyes, I breathe out. Then in. Then out again. “I don’t do piercings.”
“You will,” he says. “It is part of our contract.”
“What about a necklace, or—”
“No.”
My eyes snap up to his face, and I can see he won’t be moved. But I’m also not going to do this without putting up a fight. “Rathyn—”
His hand moves to my jaw, cupping my cheek, his thumb pressed against my lips to stop whatever it was I was going to say.
I purse my lips almost on instinct, kissing the soft pad of his thumb, and he shudders, his purr growing louder for a second before he breathes out and his face softens.
“A necklace,” he says that word like he’s struggling with it, “can be removed too easily.”
So can piercings, technically. If a person—or a monster—was really desperate. I’m not super keen on having rings through my nipples at all, but the thought of them being pulled out…
“You are afraid.”
“I’m just not, like, a super big fan of needles,” I tell him. “I’m not really into pain.”
His fingers begin to stroke my jaw, and his purring gets louder again, like he’s trying to soothe me. “The pain will be minimal. And forgettable. And then you will be marked as mine and free to move around in your world and mine.”
Oh, that fucking bastard. That absolute asshole. I’ve wanted to see Erethar, and he knows it. He knows he can use this to bargain.
“Promise me it won’t hurt,” I say against his thumb.
He moves it along my lip, then down my chin. “The pain will be minimal. And forgettable,” he repeats.
That’s not exactly the answer I want to hear, but it’s probably the only one I’m going to get. I let out a breath, then roll my head back on my shoulders and stare up at the ceiling. “Ugh. Fine. Do you have a piercing parlor you like, or…”
“Piercing…parlor?”
“Yeah. Like the person who puts in the rings?”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I will be the only one to touch you. I will place them.”
I try to step back before realizing that I’m backed up against the counter. I shove at him, but he doesn’t budge. “Dude. Do you know how to give piercings?”
He looks offended. “Of course I do. I have given plenty.”
Jealousy roars through me. It’s unexpected, but I can’t help it. “You’ve had other companions?”
Now he looks horrified. “No.”
“But you marked someone.”
Understanding dawns on his face. “You do not understand the significance for Vyastil.”
Clearly I don’t, but I’m not sure he’s going to give me an explanation. And I’m right. At least for the moment. He takes my hand and drags me through the kitchen, past my bedroom, and into his.
The bed is made neatly, so I wonder if he even slept there last night. He guides me to the mattress and pushes me down, then turns and walks to his closet.
I can hear him rummaging around, and he appears a moment later with a small, soft-shell bag with a silver zipper. It’s definitely human-made, but I know whatever’s in there isn’t human at all.
My heart starts to thud hard, and I remember the last time I needed blood drawn, I woke up on the floor of the phlebotomist’s office staring up at the fluorescent lights.
At least here there’s a mattress beneath me this time.
“So. That’s the…uh. Stuff?”
Rathyn regards me for a long moment. “You’re afraid,” he states for the second time.
I have zero reason to lie to him. “Yep.”
He sets the bag on the nightstand, then, with his long legs, climbs over me and onto the bed. He arranges the pillows against the headboard, then stretches out his legs and uses his annoying-as-fuck strength to turn me around and tug me onto him, my legs straddling his.
He’s a solid weight beneath me, which I appreciate. At least he’ll probably catch me if I keel over.
“Hand me the box,” he commands.
I obey, unthinking, then am annoyed with myself for doing it. But he looks pleased, and something zings up my spine as he offers me the barest hint of a smile, showing off a tiny bit of fang.
I try not to flinch at the sound of the zipper when he opens the bag, but nothing in there looks metal or sharp. Instead, he produces a small jar of purple leaves that look a bit like the ruenox.
“Oh, fuck no.”
He frowns.
“I don’t want to be out of my mind horny while you’re trying to shove a needle through my nipple.”
He huffs a small sigh as he uncorks the bottle and produces a single leaf. “This is not for cum. This is for pain and healing.”
I eye the thing. “Really?”
He glances up, seemingly offended that I don’t trust him. “Zitha,” he says, like I’m supposed to remember that word, even if it does sound familiar. “It will ease the sting and heal the wounds.”
“That’s what Vyastil take, right?”
Something flickers in his face. Something like sadness. He takes a moment to answer. “It was something integral to our species. It is no longer effective enough.”
“Why?”
His gaze is sharp, but he doesn’t answer, and something tells me that for now, I need to leave it.
“It’s safe for humans?”
He twirls the leaf between his thumb and forefinger. “I would not harm you. I cannot harm you.”
I want to say no because fuck knows what this herb is going to do to me, but it can’t be worse than the ruenox, right? I take a breath and decide I’d better trust him. He’s not wrong about not hurting me.
In his own way—however the Vyastil do it—he cares about me.
I open my mouth, and he lets out a pleased rumble, setting the leaf on my tongue. Like the ruenox, it starts to dissolve almost immediately.
The effects don’t happen right away—at least, I don’t think. Not like with the dick drug. My limbs might feel a little heavy, and I have the urge to smile, but that’s it.
“It is working,” he says.
I blink slowly, then laugh, and my words come out a bit slurred. “Don’t be ridiculous. I feel fine. Normal.”
Rathyn cocks his head to the side, then ignores me as he reaches for my shirt and begins to tug it over my head.
“Hey! My hair!” I attempt to fix it as he exposes my bare chest, then feel a groan crawling up my throat as he runs his fingers around my nipples.
“Hold my shoulders,” he commands.
My hands obey before my brain is aware of it, and I glower at him again. “That’s not very nice. I don’t like being told what to do.”
“You have made that abundantly clear,” he says without a trace of humor. He pulls the box open again and produces a wooden case that is definitely not from Earth. It opens with a tiny click, and I glance down to see two small, bone-white needles sitting on something like black velvet.
My head swims, and I start to go sideways, but Rathyn catches me before I can topple over.
“You are still afraid.”
I swallow heavily. “You should distract me.”
His eyes widen. “Distract you? In what manner?”
“Make me feel good. Then I won’t think about needles,” I shudder, “in my nipples.”
He doesn’t find any reason to argue with me, because instead of telling me to be a man and suck it up, his hands move to my pants. He urges me to sit up high on my knees, and with a single tug, he exposes my dick.
It’s limp and soft, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He regards it a little more kindly than the first time he set eyes on it. He makes a cooing, singing noise and begins to rub his fingers along the soft length.
Pleasure shoots through my limbs, and my dick attempts to get on board, though the heaviness in my body from the herb is affecting that, too.