Chapter 7
seven
CIELO
Idon’t know that I’ve committed another crime, but it feels like I have. I’ve hurt him. My Dante. The little droplets of red splattered across his skin before the zitha healed him are proof that I am exactly what other humans believe about the Vyastil.
I can feel his pain, even when he doesn’t express it in words or sign.
I hear it in the way he sucks in a breath when he moves too fast. I see it in the way he trembles, or in the way he’s careful as he sits, or lifts things.
Or when he has to excuse himself, then whimpers quietly behind the door of his bedroom.
I hate it with every fiber of my being.
I want to find something that will do more than the zitha and ease his pain. I want to find a cure for whatever it is terrorizing his body from the inside out.
But instead, I hurt him.
Touching him had been like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve heard whispers of what humans do with each other.
I knew the word kiss. I have seen when Everest and Rathyn are intimate in ways unknown to the Vyastil.
But until that moment with my Dante, I’d never had the courage to imagine what it might be like for me to have that.
Being a Vyastil from the Outerlands, we are closer to our base nature than the others in the capital.
We do not partake in unauthorized breeding, of course, but we have our cycles.
We sequester ourselves alone deep in the mountain caves to protect the others in the village from our ancient urges when they arise.
I have not yet experienced mine on Earth, but I thought I would be able to control myself. I thought those around me were safe.
I do not know if I trust myself now.
The human world here is cold. Much colder than Erethar. I don’t feel it under my claws, but the wind bites at my skin as I make my way down long roads, past staring humans and slowing cars who watch me like I’m, well…
A monster.
It doesn’t take long before I realize where I am. Instinct brought me to the other place I know I can exist without putting anyone at risk.
The sign for Quilliyn’s gym is a faint glow against the darkened earth sky, and for some reason, it is welcoming.
It is still a wonder to me that a Vyastil prince is living comfortably in the human world by choice instead of exile, but it doesn’t seem like Quilliyn regrets his decision.
When I was in custody, I saw him once, and he seemed more uncomfortable in Erethar than here.
But I know he’s not the only Vyastil who no longer feels like Erethar is for them.
So many from the Outerlands feel like outsiders, especially when those from the capital walk around our humble streets, looking at us like we are mud beneath their claws. And it doesn’t take much to imagine that even some in the capital feel that everything happening with the humans is…wrong.
But it was not my place to say anything, and even banished, I’m afraid they will take my tongue if I so much as breathe a word of dissent against our people.
When I walk into the building, I immediately find Quilliyn behind the counter, his hair tied in a bun on the top of his head.
He’s wearing a loose-fitting tank top and shorts, which suit him in ways I don’t expect.
I’m not sure if he prefers human clothes or if he wants to fit in, but whatever the case may be, it works for him.
I consider asking, but I don’t know if that would be rude.
I don’t really understand the etiquette when it comes to the other Vyastil living here. How many are like me? Banished away from their homes and families because of a mistake or being too emotional with an opinion?
There have been cautionary tales for years about what happens to the Vyastil who fall out of line. I never thought I would be one of them. I have always been a little wild, but never to the extreme. I was always careful to do the right thing.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. The right thing had me sent away, like I was nothing to them.
And perhaps I was nothing.
Perhaps I always will be.
That melancholy only lasts a moment. My heart lightens when Quilliyn sees me and grins widely, beckoning me over to the desk. My feet carry me before I’m consciously aware of it, and before long, I place my hands on the counter and tip my head in greeting.
“Are you here to work out?” He says everything but ‘work out’ in Eretharian. It’s too human a word for a substitute. And it’s a balm to hear my language on his tongue.
Human words have been coming to me so much easier now that Dante has been bringing me cum from the factories, but I don’t know that their words will ever be comfortable in my throat.
“Worrrrk out,” I try.
His brows lift in surprise, then they drop into a frown, and his ears give a worried flick. “Is something wrong?”
“I…” I don’t want to tell him what I’ve done. Hurting a human is a terrible offense. What if they banish me from Earth? Where will I go then?
He lets out a trilling, comforting hum and comes around the corner. “Come on. I run when I feel terrible. It’ll help.”
I have no real choice but to follow the prince through the gym and to the long row of machines that Everest always used when he was here. I glance around the room, wondering if I’ll catch a glimpse of him, but it’s very likely he’s at the Foundry with Rathyn.
The gym seems fairly empty at this hour. Even Everest’s human friend, who hates us, is not around.
“It’s easy,” Quilliyn says, mistaking my hesitation for fear of the machine. “Just hop on, hit that big green button, and then you can pick your speed with the arrows.”
I follow his instructions, and eventually I find myself at a brisk jog to nowhere. But he’s not wrong. It does feel good to get my hearts pumping. Since my capture, I’ve been so sedentary. And perhaps I wouldn’t have minded it if it had been my choice, but it wasn’t.
This is a punishment.
I am not meant to enjoy anything.
And I start to wonder if maybe that’s why I feel so…strange about the comfort Dante has been giving me.
I have enjoyed that very much.
“We can talk here,” Quilliyn says. “No one’s going to understand.”
I can’t help but give a small smile. Dante and Luca both said something like that about sign language, too. But I trust them in a way I do not trust Quilliyn. He helped me, but he’s also a member of the royal family.
I have no idea how much confidence I can put in him.
After a prolonged silence, he sighs. “I get it. I’m Jyrion’s brother. My parents are the king and queen. Everyone thinks I’m just like them—”
“I do not think that.” The words erupt from my throat before I can stop them. My ears flick in embarrassment, but he just laughs.
“If you say so.”
I turn my head to study him. He’s not nearly as winded as I am, and he’s running so much faster. It’s clear he spends a lot of time doing this. And he looks good while he’s doing it, too—wisps of hair flowing around his face, his pretty smile, his bright eyes unburdened with a painful past.
It’s a wonder Dante has not become his companion the way Everest belongs to Rathyn. They would be a perfect match.
But the idea of Dante belonging to another fills me with a strange rage. It makes me want to leap across this exercise machine and dig my claws into Quilliyn’s neck until he bleeds out.
Quilliyn’s ears flick again as he studies me. “Did something happen?”
I close my eyes for a long beat to calm myself, then I say, “I do not understand human affection. And I do not understand why it affects me the way it does.”
His mouth settles into a grin, fangs poking over his lower lip. “You feel a connection to a human.”
I don’t want to answer, but it’s far too late now, so I incline my head just once.
“It is Dante, yes?” he asks.
I feel my entire body heat, but there’s no point in lying to him. I can only hope that this will not ruin what little peace I have managed to find with my human. “It is.”
He’s silent for a moment, and then he smiles. “I understand how alien it feels.”
That is a surprise. I have never seen him with a human before. “You do?”
“I’ve had…” He stops like he’s searching for a word. “Encounters with humans. I’ve explored their courting rituals and the way they are with each other, even if the relationship is platonic. They touch a lot.”
I nod almost frantically. “So much touching. The first time Everest gave me a hug, I did not know what to do with myself. I thought he was trying to disarm me.”
Quilliyn laughs, the sound trilling in the back of his throat loudly. A few humans look over, but after a moment, their attention returns to their own running. “I know the feeling. It’s hard to trust that they mean well. Especially because some of them don’t.”
I bristle. “How can you tell who is who?”
He shakes his head. “It takes practice, patience, and living with them for a while. They are just as complicated as we are. In different ways,” he adds. “Vyastil don’t use the same types of deception.”
I’ve noticed that. A Vyastil would never hesitate in telling someone they found them distasteful or unworthy of their time and attention. But so many participate in convincing the humans that the ones living in the capital are a reflection of our entire society.
And that the Tarek are the true monsters to be feared.
I don’t say this. I have no idea if Quilliyn believes that, and it’s not worth risking my neck for something that no longer matters to me. After all, I am banished. I am not allowed to see my home again.
I will never see another Tarek.
“Some humans have pretended interest in me to sate curiosity,” Quilliyn says after a long beat of silence. “It’s hard to fault them. I know we’re so different.”
“Do you think Dante…”
“No,” he says before I can finish. He hits several buttons on his machine, and the running belt beneath his claws slows to a crawl. “I don’t think Dante is feigning kindness because he’s curious about you.”
My ears flick again. Am I so transparent?
“What exactly happened with him?” he presses. “Did he hurt you?”
“No!” I say a little too roughly. I swallow, then stop my machine as he does the same. I feel weak, suddenly. Perhaps it’s the lingering internal injuries. Or perhaps it’s my fatigue from everything in my life going so wrong so fast.
“You can tell me. I know who I am, Cielo, but I promise I’m not one of them.”
I hear truth in his song, and I bow my head. “Dante has been kind. I…I feel a connection to him. A pull. Sometimes it feels like I can understand him even when he doesn’t speak.”
Quilliyn hums deep in his chest, his head tilted to the side. His eyes are focused on my hands, and my claws flick out without warning.
“I hurt him today.”
Quilliyn sucks in a breath. “Intentionally?”
“No.” I shake my head almost violently. “I…I would never. Not him. But he was being…affectionate. He showed me a kiss.”
Quilliyn’s eyes go wide. “I see.”
“I felt out of control. I lost myself, and I hurt him.” I gently scratch my claws over the arm of the machine, and Quilliyn hums when he understands my meaning.
“Was he angry? Did he force you to leave?”
“No.” My chest aches with missing him. “I think he wished me to stay. He insisted he was not injured. Zitha healed him. But I cannot bear the thought of being something that causes him pain.” I swallow heavily, then say, “Also, I had…urges.”
“What urges? Do you feel it’s your time—”
“No. No.” I withdraw my claws and turn my gaze up to the tall ceilings. There’s a fan above us, and I soothe myself for a moment by watching the blades rotate. When my hearts are calm again, I say, “I wished to bite him. To leave a mark so I could call him mine. But he is not mine.”
Even if I have been calling him that in my head.
Quilliyn says nothing for a moment, then he steps off the machine and beckons me to follow him. I do, and we turn down a narrow hall, ducking past short doorways that lead to an office.
It’s clear this is Quilliyn’s space. I can smell kirrashev in the room, and a hint of lingering cum.
He closes the door behind him, then props his hip against his desk, his tail pressed to the floor as if holding him up.
“I think Vyastil have a lot to learn about our relationship with humans. And with each other. I think there’s a lot that we’ve not been told about our history, and I’ve been studying it for a while, but I’ve only scratched the surface. ”
“I don’t understand your meaning,” I confess.
He doesn’t look bothered. “I don’t know that I understand most of it myself. Not yet. But I have felt that certain…pull you spoke of. The possessive need to curl around a human so that no one else—not Vyastil, not human—can touch them.”
I want to ask who he’s felt this way about, but I’m terrified the answer will be Dante. I would concede immediately, of course. Quilliyn is a much better choice than I am.
I am an outcast.
And a mess.
“If you feel it, and he is willing to be close to you, to be intimate,” he clarifies. It’s still not a word I fully grasp, but I’m starting to, “don’t run from it. Lean in. Take what he gives. Offer the same to him.”
The thought is terrifying. I feel a tremble deep beneath my skin. “I think it would destroy me if he rejected me.”
“I do not think he will,” Quilliyn murmurs. “And if he offers himself to you—to let you drink from him—”
“I cannot. My sentence was—”
“Fuck your sentence,” he says in English. The words take me aback. He switches back to Eretharian. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Cielo. You were following orders. You were doing your duty. No one is monitoring you, okay? If a human—if your human—is offering you himself, take it.”
I say nothing. My ears flick and sag, and I can’t meet his gaze. He’s asking me to go against orders again, and what happened last time—the pain inflicted on my body—I’m not sure I’m strong enough to take it.
I doubt I’ll survive it.
He sighs quietly, then steps closer to me and takes my hand. It’s such a profoundly human gesture, but it’s also more comforting than I was expecting. With a small tug, he has me in his arms, in a hug almost as good as the ones Everest gives.
I lay my cheek on his shoulder and take his advice, allowing myself to accept what’s being freely given. My arms come around him, and he hums happily when I hug him back.
“You don’t have to say yes now. Just promise me you’ll think about it,” he murmurs.
I pull back. That is a promise I can make. I nod, then drop my hands to my sides. “I should return to him, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes. I think you should. And since it’s a long walk, let me give you a ride. I have mastered driving a car, and you deserve a rest.”
It’s an offer I do not turn down.