18. Chapter 18
eighteen
Sor’en
I lead my mate through the fields toward the veiled pool, my heart thundering in my chest. The walk of mates is a moment for reverence, a death of self, a rebirth into something for her.
I ceased to exist the moment I laid my eyes on my soulveil in that spaceport.
The scent of her salty tears is as overpowering and heavy as the smell of her need.
With her hand tied with mine, I can almost forget the bitter tang of the experience.
The desire to make it all real, if not for her then for myself.
I am not reborn, I am not balanced, not in the eyes of my people, myself, my goddesses, or my mate.
But I wish to be.
I wish to shed the skin of the monster and simply wear the bones of the male.
It has been more solars than I care to recount that I have done the bidding of the Intergalactic Alliance.
That Galactic General Adder found a terrified stowaway Xyrelith child on Vortara.
Our Balla’mar had been attempting to enter into a protection agreement with the help of Kalzait dignitaries.
As a young botanist with an over-inflated sense of self-importance, I snuck aboard for every tense meeting that kintic.
I had aspired to be a part of something.
Had wanted so badly to step outside of the cursed dome.
Other males could, upon occasion, during training, within the confines of Silloria, of course.
But not a child born with the mark of the goddesses.
A child sporting a death shimmer from birth that bled of both sisters.
Both sides of the terribly special coin.
I was to be protected, hidden in my fields. Foolishly, it was not enough for me.
I did not expect to meet a friend on Vortara.
A young, equally as self-important, albeit with more reason to be, Kalzait prince.
The heir apparent to the Kalzait throne.
Clayan was an unexpected but much-needed friend.
Two children who couldn’t have been more different from one another: me with my dirt and flowers and him with his crown and tech.
One hated and feared, the other adored and admired. We made an odd pair.
Until I killed him.
One mistake, one loss of control, one flood of toxins in a moment of fear, and I killed the only friend I had ever had.
I was easy picking after that.
The General found me sobbing over Clayan, and before I was old enough to know better, a deal was made.
I glance back down at my mate to find her attention already on me, her sadness shining through her veil. Yes, my little human, I am unworthy.
But perhaps I no longer need to be?
Perhaps… I could free us both from this imbalance.
Her soft gasp is the only thing that pulls me back to the moment.
Out of those horrible memories of pale, hardening pale skin and spasming wings.
A hated Xyrelith, killing a highly respected Kalzait royal in protected airspace?
It would’ve been a declaration of war. One we would have immediately with such finality there would have been no trace of the people who graced this land before they would’ve wiped us from it.
General Adder said he could keep my secrets.
He could offer me a ceasefire, so to speak, so long as I did what was requested of me.
He offered my people protection.
He lied.
We are hunted still.
Hated still.
Perhaps even more so.
I place my mate on her small feet, keeping her steady as she steps ahead of me, her attention and awe directed to the Veiled Pool, and rightfully so.
It warms my blackened heart to see her appreciation for our planet.
The stars and wraiths below will welcome her with warmth, should she learn to allow them.
Our Veiled Pool is a simple enough plot of water, only that the mineral compound around it is so heavy, pulled in from the Bonded Sea from which Fa’mora was born, that the water is thicker.
Perfectly still. And at night… it looks magical.
My mate's attention is taken as Xyrelith after Xyrelith offers her their flowers, laying them at her feet at the bank in blessing. For a moment, I am struck by the foreign beauty of her. Her soft curves and pale flesh, the way she curls her toes into the grass and her lip wobbles when she cries.
Her hair, the color of fire.
It is fitting.
My fierce star-gifted mate.
Part of me wonders if it will pain her to accept me into her tonight.
I know that I can, all medical scans assured my mind and the minds of those far smarter than myself that she can take me.
That my seed can root deep within her and from it something wonderful can grow.
It is comforting to know a part of me will linger with her, even after whatever horrible fate awaits me comes to fruition.
That the price of eternal madness is bearable, should only I redeem myself in their eyes.
After the last of our people filter out, she lets out a breathless little laugh, her arms heavy and feet piled over with flowers I have spent my entire life growing with the hope that I would someday, somehow see myself as I am. Staring at my gift from the goddesses as she is right now.
“I’m not sure what to do now,” she offers breathlessly.
I simply stalk closer, watching as she shifts on her hidden feet that are surely curled into the grass, as if she is desperate to plant herself in the dirt.
I am still weakened, my body still desperately trying to push the bond, but there is energy knowing it is coming.
Enough energy to carry us through what will come next.
I appear behind her, my lips skirting over the top of her veiled head. “You choose one, and you offer it to me.”
Her breath is a mere whisper on the wind.
Hidden from my ears, but I can see it in the way it pushes against her veil quicker than normal.
The scent of her need driving my mating pulse higher than it has been before.
Not a hard task, there has been no one before her, and there will be no one after.
I am for my mate's pleasure alone, as all of my people are for theirs should they come. “Just any of them?”
“It is up to you, my gift. The one whose flower is chosen will be smiled upon by the goddesses. Their womb shall expand and their seed root true.”
“Ah, right. No pressure then.” She laughs, but the sound is wrought with nerves.
She should be nervous, for after this night, I will ruin my mate for all other males.
I will rewrite her as she has done to me.
I will imprint myself on her DNA so surely she shall feel me with every breath she takes.
Because my tricky, dishonest mate is mine.
And like her, I am a very selfish creature.
“Offer me a flower, Draya’la,” I urge softly, barely keeping the growl from my voice.
She lets the bundle in her arms fall, the scent of her need choking me as she digs to the bottom of the pile at her feet. “What does that mean?”
“Hmm?”
She lifts a flower, and my cock jerks as she glances at me over her shoulder, her pretty eyes hidden. Like this, I can almost pretend she adores me too. Almost, but not quite. Like her as she is, hurtful and strong. Rough and unbalanced. “Drylala.”
I smirk. “Draya’la means soulveil, the being in which guards my soul.”
Her hand trembles as she shows me what she’s chosen.
She is in my arms in the next moment, her legs wrapping around my waist so that the heat of her core warms my throbbing, vibrating cock. She yelps at the sudden movement, her arms banding around my neck, pressing her taut breasts against me in the most wonderful way.
“My flower, Hue,” I remind her.
“Oh, yeah, here.” She pants, offering me the yellow one she picked.
The yellow Lyr’lumara represents growth, rejuvenation, and hope.
Xyreliths will pick the flowers they wish to manifest in their prayers.
Yellow.
Purple for love, dedication, and stability.
Red for desire, fertility, and strength.
Black for remembrance, solace, and grief.
Blue for tranquility, balance, and safety.
Different combinations mean different things, a language of their own based on order and placement. But my mate has given me yellow.
It is not lost on me.
I would have chosen yellow as well. I did as much earlier while I blessed the clothing she wears.
My mate is hope for a better life, a life in which I am not the male they made me. One where she is mine.
She watches as I walk us into the water, the ends of her gown sinking and dragging the bank. The water is warm, steam racing along the surface as it meets my shoulders. Her gasp is a gift to my ears, as faint as it was.
She clings tighter as I support her slight weight, plucking a petal from the flower and offering it to her. “On my tongue.” I roll it out behind the veil, not missing the way her bare core, the dress lofted away by the water, clenches on my mating shaft.
She goes to drop it on my tongue, but I take it from her instead, wanting to taste her flesh more than I wish for the petal to offer me its bliss.
She is quietly watching, captivated as my tongue slicks over her fingers, taking the offering into my mouth before I swallow it down.
Savoring its flavor mixed with hers. She stays like that, still as stone, until I tip backward.
Suddenly, she’s scrambling for purchase on me again, making her hot center rub across me in ways I lack the poetry to describe.
“I-I can’t swim!” she pleads.
“I would never let you drown.”
“I-I… okay.”
Emotion swells in my chest as I offer a prayer to the goddesses, as I baptize myself under their eyes.
When I lift up, the thick surface parts for me, offering me its blessings.
My veil clings to my face, and without telling her, she lifts it.
My brave mate meets my gaze, and I am eager to meet hers as well.
The petal I offer her is a mere fraction of what I have given myself, but she opens for me. My pretty mate opens for me!
I place the silver petal on her small pink tongue. “Ready?” I whisper, water dripping from my soaked hair onto her exposed shoulders.
She takes a calming breath. “Don’t let go.”
“Never,” I vow as I dip her.
My mate breaks free from the water with a gasp, and I am already removing her veil. Her golden green eyes, so much like that cursed planet she loves, find mine, already swelling with emotion. Our coming together is not a slow thing.
My mate meets me halfway, her soft lips commanding my hard ones, offering that sweet tongue freely, sloppily. Needily. It is an intoxicant of the highest order. One that dignitaries would go to war for, males would die for, and the goddesses themselves could not harness.
My little gift makes to devour her monster, and I have never been so thrilled to be consumed. It would be an honor for my flesh to feed her, for her little blunt teeth to gnaw and mar my bones. As her blunt little words have already marred my heart.
Hue’s hands find my hair, knotting and clinging there as my cock vibrates on her core, making the most delicate of moans escape from between our fused mouths.
I wonder if this beautiful, vexing creature knows?
If she has any idea the things I would do for her. If she knows she holds the universe in her strange, small hands.