14. Chapter 14
fourteen
Hue
I am not feeling the things I think I should.
I should be disgusted, choking on hate and venom.
I should scream and hit, but I sit in my tent, my face buried in my palms to hide my burning cheeks, to smother the warmth in my chest from the inside out.
I’ve been sitting here for nearly two zentics now and have narrowly managed three bites of dinner.
This time, a warm, peeled vegetable loaded with some kind of sauce and meat I cannot identify and have no basis for.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted aside from the mushy white stuff, but my nerves and body are painfully hot-wired, jumbled, and crossed in every single direction.
Sor’en has not spoken to me since he showered.
I was already in my tent as he stalked out, not even reacting as I poked my head out to watch him prepare my food.
My thank you, which I had not truly bothered to give him before, was accepted by a nod and stoic milky white eyes.
He was careful not to touch me, which lights my chest with irritation.
I cannot tell if it is to spare his body from the pain of trying to make more oil or because I… hurt him.
Me, nobody human 74-B, hurt him.
He cares.
Likes me.
Needs me.
It’s an aphrodisiac more alluring than any bonding oil. I hope the ceremony, whatever that ends up being, will fix the oil issues. My skin feels rough and… wrong without it. He sticks his head in long enough to try to grab my plate, which I ask him to leave.
He doesn’t really acknowledge me, offering only a blank. “The vigil will start soon.”
I scramble from my tent toward the cleansing unit, determined to properly wash myself beforehand. His saliva is still dried and tacky between my thighs. I spend the entire rushed shower wishing he’d come through the door and put more there.
He does not, and I get it. Truly, as far as mates go, I’m probably among the worst. And I will break his heart. I’m beginning to think I might break mine too.
No sooner than I step from the unit, its high-pressure water spouts powering off behind me, I hear voices from the front rooms. The dyer kicks to life as I stand there, paralyzed by my indecision, my body blasted with comforting heat I barely feel.
My hair, which I usually keep from the dyers to prevent it from looking like some kind of prey’s nest, quickly becomes a lost cause.
I’m dressed, standing in front of the door like I was so many solars ago, convincing myself to open it again and step out.
My hand smacks the control, only for my heart to sputter at the sight of my Xyrelith.
My Xyrelith? Yeah, I suppose he is. For now, at least.
“It is time, Draya’la. Some females have come to prepare you at the Veiled Palace. I will follow you there.”
I open and close my mouth a few times before I find the words. Not good words, but words at least. “Will it hurt?” I whisper, my hand fluttering to the tooth on my neck.
His eyes track the movement with empty appraisal. “I am beginning to believe so.”
With that, he turns. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Sor’en, that’s not—"
I nearly yelp as he appears in front of me, swaying with the sudden exertion, before his hands grip my face, his lips slamming into mine.
His mouth takes control, and I let him. Relishing the way he commands softly with deft strokes of that familiar tongue.
I’m boneless, slowly melting into him when he hisses and jerks away, his chest heaving as that vibration I now know comes from his…
member fills the room. He works his hands as if they hurt.
I see why soon after he stalks from the room.
Allowing me to dreamily and mindlessly turn to check myself in the mirror.
His oil slicks my cheeks, even empty of the warm tingles, and I rub it into my skin. Simply because it's his.
When I leave the bedroom, Sor’en leans against the far wall, glaring openly at the gaggle of females hanging around just outside the threshold. Oddly enough, a deep sense of satisfaction fills me knowing he didn’t allow them inside as I turn away from him.
I don’t get a few steps to the threshold before I’m swarmed by darkness, inky and popping crackles of violet.
A breathless giggle leaves me despite my somber mood as Melion further twists and knots my hair.
“See you there, Melion,” I offer, assuming he’ll come as the creature reforms in front of me with a playful wiggle.
I’m not expecting it, though, when he surges upwards, making himself into—my god—the same shape of Sor’en’s lesser form.
Melion crackles violently, facing the females who shy and shift uncomfortably at his obvious threat.
A quick, panicked glance at the male behind me shows he has no issue with his companion’s actions, his devout stare glued to me.
I offer him a lame little wave.
He nods and my heart sinks further as I step past Melion out of the door into a group of some of the most dangerous beings in our galaxy.