45. Aryn
Aryn
Cato is a lot of things, but he’s certainly not a delicate man, despite the silent way he moves when he needs to.
He’s sprawling and broad, unapologetic in the way he fills a room.
He exists to take up space, and lives for the moments that someone dares to point it out. Sleeping doesn’t change that.
Hells, it doesn’t even fully erase the combative lines in his forehead.
Course hairs tickle my nose and my chest is compressed enough to make it difficult to pull in a full breath. My mate is completely and utterly relaxed as he sleeps on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress and his arms forbidding me from moving.
It fills me with a bone-deep happiness.
Remnants of last night’s dinner sit on a tray beside the bed. By the time we collected it from outside the door, it had gotten cold, but we were too wrapped up in each other to care. Both of us were exhausted, but we fought sleep anyway.
We curled up in the furs, eating dinner and talking about nothing and everything.
He told me stories of his adventures in the city, and I shared the rare moments of peace I found during my time in the human world.
We both spoke of Bash, reflecting on the way he had changed between the two lives he lived with each of us.
Eventually, our voices grew softer until sleep finally claimed us.
My tail is wrapped around his thigh, always so desperate to hold on to him. I unwind it from his leg and flick it gently in the sunlight streaming through the window.
A smile spreads across my lips, holding boundless, impossible joy.
The golden glow has faded into a soft beige. It’s him—the exact color of his skin, down to the deeper scattered freckles. I glance at his arm, finding a coil of deep red around his biceps.
It feels more permanent now, like a piece of him is irreversibly mine.
I press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, letting my fingers trail lazily down his back. Cato stirs with a sleepy hum and nuzzles closer.
“Morning,” I murmur.
He makes a contented sound and tightens his arm around me. “Don’t wanna get up.”
“We could stay in bed all day—”
“Deal,” he interrupts, already half-asleep again.
I laugh and kiss his temple. “As tempting as that is, there are some rather important things happening today. I think the others would come looking for us.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles into my chest. “I guess they would.”
“Look at your arm,” I tell him softly. His eyes open and find mine before drifting to the mark. He sits up, turning so it’s illuminated by the sunlight.
He runs his fingers along the red skin, tracing the shape with open awe. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
I press a kiss to the bite on his shoulder. “Another mark to add to your collection.”
He wraps his fingers around my tail and tugs it in front of his face, inspecting my mark with a grin. “Guess my smooth talking worked, then.”
“It was the smoothest,” I agree with a barely maintained serious expression.
“Damn straight. If anyone ever asks you how my love confession went, that’s how you’ll tell the story.”
I chuckle as I climb out of bed and shiver against the chilly morning air. “Don’t worry. In my tales, you will always be suave and sure-tongued.”
“I’ll show you sure-tongued,” he mutters. When I turn my back, he sucks in a sharp breath and scrambles to follow me. He drags his palms down my spine, barely touching my skin. “Fuck, I clawed you up good last night. Did I hurt you?”
My lips tug into a slight smile at the memory of the burn of his fingernails and the squeeze of those strong hands on my hips.
“In the best way,” I answer as he presses a kiss to the base of my neck.
He steps around to my front, checking my hips for bruises, but pauses when he sees what the attention is doing to me.
“Don’t look so scandalized,” I tease, gripping his wrist and guiding him closer. “I did warn you I like it rough.”
“You did,” he agrees as his arms band around my waist. His fingers dance over my skin, toying with the base of my tail in a way that makes me shiver.
“Careful,” I warn. “We don’t have time for you to start something you can’t finish.”
He hums as he leans in to kiss me. “That sounds like a challenge. Did you forget you just told me the secret to finishing you faster?” He traces the scratches on my back with a smirk. “Maybe next time I’ll bite you back.”
I nip at his lip, thrilled when his eyes shutter.
“Always with the promises,” I murmur. I’m half a second away from bending him over the bed when voices carry from the hallway.
Cameron’s familiar twang rises over Ronan’s deeper rumblings as they pass, and I sigh as my forehead drops to his shoulder.
“Rain check?” he asks with a soft chuckle.
“Only if you intend to keep it.”
“It’s a date, darlin’,” he whispers into my ear as he places a kiss there. It’s so sweet I reconsider being late for breakfast, if for no other reason than to show him how much I appreciate the way he trusts me with his affections.
Cato follows me into the bathroom as we wash our faces and brush our teeth, and I’m struck by the simple intimacy of the moment.
It’s something I thought I’d never have again.
I help him dress, my hands lingering on his skin as I adjust his shirt. He teases me about being a mother hen, but he lets me do it with a fond smile. We step out into the hallway and are led to breakfast with the others in a private dining hall.
The table is already laid out with a generous spread.
Platters of fresh-baked hearty breads sit beside bowls of soft cheeses, roasted root vegetables drizzled in herb oil, and thick slices of blackened meat.
There are also sweet cakes and bowls of spiced porridge for those who prefer something warmer.
Steaming mugs of vark wait at each setting, and I fight my smile as Cato scowls at his.
He never acquired a taste for the bitter drink.
I pass him a glass of water instead as we settle in with the others.
Brihn and Galdren are huddled close and talking quietly, and they’re surrounded by the rest of our crew who are already eating.
I fill Cato’s plate with the things I know he’ll love—a thick slice of bread spread with cheese, some berries, and a generous portion of meat.
When he reaches for his fork, I nudge his hand aside and lift a piece of bread to his lips instead.
“Open.”
Cato gives me a look that’s half exasperated, half amused, but he opens his mouth and lets me feed him.
After he swallows, I fight the instinct to care for him, but it’s a losing battle.
A few minutes later, I offer him a bite of the sweet cake, then a spoonful of porridge.
Each time he accepts it with a knowing smirk, letting me dote on him without protest.
The others notice, of course—some more loudly than others.
Cameron flashes a catty smile around his glass of water. “You two are disgustingly domestic this morning,” he says as Ronan sniffs loudly, puffing his chest out like he’s offended that Cameron paid attention to someone besides him.
Lillith chuckles, shooting Ronan a sidelong glance that says she noticed, too. “It’s cute that you let him spoil you, Cato,” she says through a bite.
Cato flushes and grips his fork like he needs to prove he can feed himself, but he doesn’t stop me when I offer him another bite.
The food is excellent. It feels like I’ve fallen back in time, tasting spices I haven’t had in a century and hearing the rolling murmur of Elyrian conversations floating from nearby tables.
Once he finishes his breakfast, Galdren glances past our group to wave someone forward.
“I have business to attend this morning while we clear the Vaelor’s schedule.
Rhael is the son of our City Watch captain, and since he’s fluent in your language, I thought he’d be the perfect guide.
He’ll show you around the castle while you wait. ”
A young Elduin steps forward with a stunning smile, and I clench my jaw as I remember Cato with Lirien at the bonfire. He must be thinking the same thing, because he squeezes my hand.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he whispers in my ear.
I glare, then turn back to inspect Rhael.
His skin is rich teal and his eyes are pale, almost pearly around his wide pupils.
A long silver braid falls down his back, but it’s not sleek and smooth like the guards.
It’s loose, with hairs popping out everywhere and strands hanging over his forehead.
Hooped earrings form a ladder up his pointed ears, and a delicate silver chain hangs between the two on his forward helix, draping over the bridge of his nose.
Two more studs sit underneath his lower lip.
His uniform is simple black hide like the soldiers, but he doesn’t carry a weapon.
He moves to stand by Galdren, swinging his hips with graceful steps.
Elduin aren’t large by nature. They have an affinity for water, and the old stories say they evolved from sea creatures back when there were only two moons in the sky.
Rhael is broad-shouldered but lean, built for movement rather than strength.
“Why do so many of y’all speak English?” Cameron drawls.
Rhael wrinkles his nose for a moment, undoubtedly trying to decipher Cameron’s question, before understanding dawns on his face.
“Lyravelle has a community of humans,” he answers with a voice that’s almost lyrical in its cadence.
“Most of them speak Elyrian, but that wasn’t always the case.
The Vaelor thought it was important to communicate openly, so our leaders studied their language. ”
“It was required?” Cameron asks, brows lifting.
Rhael is clearly entertained. “It was… suggested.”
Galdren clears his throat, and Rhael remains completely unphased as he gestures toward the doors. “Come. Let’s walk while we speak. Galdren needs the room, and apparently has forgotten how to use his voice to say as much.”
“Hey, now,” Galdren says with a barking laugh.