Brir (Wanderers Between Worlds #2)

Chapter 14

The bunker

Artemis

I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar peace. The constant pain that had haunted me for months had vanished. As I stretched my arms above my head with a wide yawn, I felt a delightful weightlessness in my muscles. A sense of euphoria washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about the mind-blowing orgasm I had experienced by the river with Brir.

It had indeed done wonders for both my body and my mood.

I held my hand up to the flickering light of the candles, examining the shimmering scales that covered my skin. Brir had praised them, but all I could see were the jagged edges and sharp talons protruding from my fingertips. They were like weapons, yet simultaneously, they looked like someone had taken a blowtorch to me. It was like living inside the pages of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein—I was a creature of mismatched parts.

“You’re awake,” Brir said from the other side of the room, making me jump. I turned to look at him, his red eyes captivating me. He was crouched by the fireplace, stirring a pot of something that smelled amazing. The fire made his blue skin shimmer.

“Good morning,” I whispered, even though I had no idea if it was morning. We were back in his underground home, and the complete darkness made me lose all sense of time. I scanned his form, taking in every detail of his appearance. He was wearing a pair of boxers that showed off his muscles. I wanted to trace my hands down those legs and explore him like he had done to me at the river.

Brir offered me a warm smile. His gaze burned into mine, a glowing ember in the darkness. The intensity of it felt like an anchor, grounding me in the reality of this new existence. I was drawn to it—drawn to him—like a moth to a flame.

Brir continued to stir the pot by the fire. The wooden spoon hitting the sides created a soothing rhythm in the quiet room.

“How do you feel?” Brir’s voice was soft, and the gentleness in his tone made my heart flutter. How he looked at me with so much care and concern struck a chord deep within my chest.

“Fantastic,” I admitted, smiling as I braced my head on my hand. It was the truth. Brir didn’t look human, his face angular and elf-like, pointed ears that peeked through his long silvery hair, and white horns that rose up and away from his face. Despite all of that, the alien appearance didn’t frighten me. It was doing something else to me, something I very much wanted to explore.

Brir raised an eyebrow, nodded silently, and returned his focus to the pot. The scent wafting from it filled the room, intoxicating in its warmth.

My stomach growled, reminding me how long it had been since I had last eaten.

Brir gave me a faint smile, having heard my stomach. “Food will be done in a minute,” he said, stirring the pot with a gentle hand. The heat from the fire danced in his eyes, casting shadows that played across his sharp features.

My eyes followed him. I was fascinated by how he moved with an elegant efficiency. He walked back across the room, and my eyes landed on his firm ass. The remains of a cropped tail stuck out at the waistband of his boxers. I remembered seeing the butchered remains of his tail at the river. Seeing it again made something in my chest tight.

“Brir,” I pushed up on my hands. The blanket slipped down to pool at my hips. “What happened to your tail?” I asked him softly.

He reached a hand behind himself and ran his fingers over the leathery-looking appendage. The skin was white and raw-looking, unnatural. “My tail is docked. That’s all.” He gave me a forced smile before leaving the room. When he returned, he had pants on. I was disappointed that he felt he had to hide it away.

I also didn’t get to look at his long, powerful legs.

“Why would someone do that to you?” I pressed, looking up at the muscular man as he folded his legs to sit beside me. His jaw tightened. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but I wanted to know more about him.

Brir’s eyes met mine, and I could see the pain hidden within them. It was clear that this was something he had tried to bury deep within himself.

“It is part of my culture for me to keep it docked,” he told me gently, withdrawing the bottle of pain pills I had asked for when he first brought me here. “No one does it to me.”

“You’re saying you do that to yourself?” I knew my face showed my horror, and I tried to smooth it out, but my sister had often told me that my face talked more for me than words ever could. I may not be happy with having a tail, but I remembered what it had felt like when the doctors cut it off to study it. It had taken weeks to grow back.

“I do now.” He said it casually, like it didn’t bother him. His face was carefully blank.

“Why the fuck would you do that to yourself?” I spat the words out in anger, my feelings of betrayal and hurt ricocheting through me. He had told me plenty of times how unique the different parts of me were, but he was cutting off pieces of himself. “How could you fucking do that?”

Brir’s eyes met mine, a flash of pain crossing his face before he quickly composed himself. “It is not a choice, Artemis,” he said softly. “It is a sacrifice I make for my people.”

His words stung, piercing my heart like an arrow. I wanted to understand his perspective, but this felt very much like doing what I say and not what I do. My teeth were on edge as Brir’s words filtered through my mind, reminding me of all the times he had reassured me that I was beautiful, that these changes were nothing, and that here he was, mutilating himself to fit in with his cultural beliefs.

“What are you talking about? Of course it’s a choice.” I knew my tone was full of anger, but I couldn't help it. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my mismatched parts.

His face was closed off, but he didn’t want to lie. He just didn’t know how to tell me, so I waited. I was patient. I had to be. Apollo was the hot-headed one. She rushed in like a tornado, always after something. I liked waiting and watching. At the memories of Apollo, a pang ran through my chest.

“For my people, if one such as myself is banished from our village, we are marked, and then our tails are docked so we may never mate.” Brir took a deep breath. There was anguish in his eyes.

A cold shock ran down my spine. My claws dug unintentionally into my palm. Trying to calm the panic that was rushing through me. “They… they did that to you?” Rage bubbled under my skin, hot and ugly. It was an intrusive feeling. I had never felt so protective over someone other than Polly, but the thought of someone causing Brir pain drew on a new kind of fury within me.

Brir nodded solemnly. The glow from his scars cast moving shadows across his features. He touched my face again, his calloused fingertips tracing along my cheekbone. “It’s a harsh punishment,” he murmured, “but it’s one I’ve accepted.”

My heart ached for him.

“But why?” I asked, anger seeping into my voice. “What could you possibly have done to deserve such a punishment? Did you, like, kill someone? Kick a dog? What?” I knew I sounded exasperated. I was furious.

His gaze dropped from mine, and his hand fell from my leg. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a moment, he remained silent.

“I refused to mate the person chosen for me,” he told me with no emotion in his tone. “It was against our laws.”

“I don’t understand.” I was confused. Why would such a thing cause someone to be removed from their home? “Why would refusing to have sex with someone cause you to be banished?”

“In my culture, males are expected to be submissive while females hold the power and make decisions. We are…” he paused for a second like he couldn’t find the right word, then continued, “…used for their pleasure.” I felt my jaw fall open. I was genuinely disgusted by what he was saying. I was about to speak, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“Let me explain,” A small smile pulled at his lips. “We are an older race. We don’t have a single gender like many new species that evolved a few thousand years ago. My race is older than I believe humans have been around. We had different beliefs with much older and somewhat archaic laws. This caused me trouble when I was younger because I did not find the females in my village attractive; I preferred males. I was told this was just a phase and that I would grow out of it. But being in control of my body and life is essential for me. I do not want anyone else making decisions or dictating what I can or cannot do. My family saw me as a disappointment, especially my mother. She was the village elder, and when I refused to mate with someone she had selected for me, she decided to banish me.”

“What a bitch!” I spat the words out before I could stop myself, unable to hide my disgust. I knew people just like his mother. My voice shook with anger. “How could she do that to her own flesh and blood?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This man had gotten me out of a fucking cage. He had taken care of me. Showed me more kindness than anyone but my own family had shown me. How could anyone do that to him?

This fierce, strong warrior, someone who had displayed such power and confidence, was banished from his village because of his sexuality. It was archaic and cruel, all right.

“It is our way,” he said so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t process his words. “So you refused to have sex with a female of your species, so she just banished you.” I clarified, unable to stop myself.

“Mate, not sex,” He withdrew a knife and brought it down on a carrot, slicing it into perfect rounds.

“I don’t know the difference. For humans, mating means sex.”

“Mating is permanent. You stay together till one or both of your deaths,” he explained. “Sex is for pleasure. For the needs of the body. For health.”

Now I understood that it was like marriage. He had refused to marry.

“So you didn’t want to mate with someone.” The concept felt alien. We still had arranged marriages here in our world, but I had never met anyone who had been forced into one. The thought was unthinkable. No one at this time would agree to that.

Brir merely nodded in response, his gaze distant and clouded with unpleasant memories. “They believed they knew what was best for me,” the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“That’s awful,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself. He cocked his head slightly at my words but didn’t say anything. Instead, he just observed me with his deep eyes glowing slightly in the dim light. “But why not just banish you? Why remove your tail?”

“Our tails connect with one another. It starts the bond. Our tails would wind around our mates, linking us together. There is venom in the barbs that increases the pleasure during sex. No one would bond with me without one. It is a very sensual act.” He handed me a cup of water and pain pills. I gently placed them on my tongue, still not used to the claw tips on my hands. Brir moved back to the kitchen area.

I couldn’t help but stare at him as he moved. The blue skin pulled tight over his muscles. He wasn’t overly built. Brir was lean but incredibly toned, covered in the shiny silver scars that lit up under my fingers. He was bioluminescent, and I couldn’t help but want to run my hands all over him. How cool was it that his skin reacted to touch?

“Why didn’t you just let it grow back?” I questioned.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he turned to face me. I could tell he was done talking, but because I was the one asking the questions, he was answering them. His hands clenched tightly at his sides before he shook them out.

“The docking was a symbol of my… my failure. A constant reminder to me and everyone in my village that I was an outcast, a disgrace.” His tone was raw and unguarded. “I failed my people. My family. I was… I am a disappointment.”

“But that’s not true!” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Suddenly, the room felt too small.

I awkwardly shuffled to my feet, drawing in a deep breath. “You’re not a disappointment, Brir,” I stated firmly, my gaze steady on his. “You stood up for what you believed in and your identity. That’s more than what most people could do.”

“I appreciate your sentiment, Artemis,” he muttered, his voice sounding hollow. “But it doesn’t change that I was cast out because of my choices.”

“So, you’re saying they banished you and doomed you to a life of solitude?” My voice trembled with frustration. I gripped my cup tighter. My heart felt heavy with empathy for Brir’s situation. “And you just accepted that. You just keep cutting it off.”

“You don’t have to understand; it is my culture.” Brir’s tone told me this conversation was over.

“Your culture,” I spat out, venom in my tone. “The culture that exiled you, dismembered you, and left you to waste away by yourself? That culture?”

“Enough, Artemis. Drop it.” Brir growled.

His voice was final, the line drawn in the sand. I was terrible with lines I shouldn’t have crossed. I jutted my jaw forward and narrowed my eyes at him as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“So what you’re telling me is that you lied to me,” I snarled back at him.

“I have never lied,” he said through gritted teeth. He took a step forward, glaring down at me. He was inches from me now. I would have kept my mouth shut if I were a more intelligent man.

“You said you like the changes to my body,” My voice steely. “That they made me perfect.”

“I did,” he snarled back. “And they do. You are perfect.” I could tell I was frustrating Brir, but I was already too angry.

“You can’t believe that about me.” I snarled at him.

His eyes narrowed further, so he was looking at me through slits. “You are crossing the line, Artemis.”

I didn’t give a fuck. My mouth just wouldn’t stop. “How can you believe it about me when you don’t believe it about yourself?” The words ripped through me. Brir took a step back. No longer did he look at me with anger like I was a misbehaving child, but with shock and hurt. The change in his features was so rapid I almost wished I could take back what I said.

But I couldn’t. The truth was out now, both his and mine.

My stubbornness prevailed as I continued. “You see yourself as a failure, an outcast, and you think you’re a disappointment because you refused to live according to archaic laws that were forced on you! How can you accept the changes to my body when you refuse even to accept your own?”

Brir was silent for a long moment, his gaze dropping to his feet. His jaw was clenched so tightly that I could see the muscle twitch, but he made no move to interrupt me. My heart pounded as I stared at him, waiting for his response.

“You have no idea…” he began quietly, his voice husky with some unspoken emotion. “What it’s like to be judged… to be rejected… by your own people… your own family.” His words hung heavy in the cold air between us. “You told me how much your family accepted everything about you and your sister.”

“But I do understand!” I argued back, unable to contain myself. “Brir, look at me!” His eyes met mine, and I waved my arms down my body. “I’m a human, and other humans locked me in a cage because of what I look like now.”

He blinked at that, a shadow crossing his face before he turned away from me. My words hung in the air between us. The heavy silence seemed as tangible as the sadness etching lines into Brir’s hardened face.

“My culture is all I have left. My world is gone, Artemis.” The way he spat out my name made my stomach sink. Like I was poison, my name was venom on his lips. I knew right then just how badly I had fucked up.

I didn’t know how to respond, the weight of his words heavy in my heart. Brir had lost his home, his planet. His words stung me as mine must have stung him. The force of the knowledge that he was holding onto the only thing he had left of his home, even if it hurt him, tore something from me.

All the anger disappeared in an instant.

Brir took a step away from me, his jaw tight as he filled a bowl with the food he had been making before he set it down on the table and left the room.

As I watched his hulking figure retreat, my heart clenched with worry. Or was it regret? I couldn’t tell anymore. The boundaries between emotions blurred into a single heap of hurt and longing.

I hesitated momentarily, wondering if I should follow or leave him alone. But as I stood there, I realized I couldn’t abandon him like this. I needed to show him that he wasn’t alone, that I cared about his pain, and that I was there for him.

Taking a deep breath, I went after him.

“Brir,” I called softly, reaching the doorway as he disappeared into the darkness. Stepping into the dimly lit room, I could barely make out the contours of his form as he moved around, his body shifting in the shadows.

He hesitated for a moment before stopping entirely, his back broad and rigid against the soft candlelight filtering through the cracks in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” I began, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t understand.”

“Eat your dinner, Artemis. I will be back later.” My name on his lips stung. I missed how he called me Butterfly already. Brir moved past me, yanked the door open, stepped into the dark tunnel, and pulled the door closed behind him.

???

The harsh slam of the door echoed through the cavernous space, reverberating through every crevice and corner. I was left standing there, frozen in the semi-darkness, my eyes lingering on the closed entrance. His words lingered in my ears, hollow and distant like a mocking ghost.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily as I grappled with the crushing weight of the silence that had seized the room. Minutes turned into an eternity as I stood there, lost in the deafening quiet. The echoes of his departure still seemed tangible, like phantom impressions of a reality that had just unfolded before my eyes.

The space suddenly felt claustrophobic around me, the cool stone walls closing in, every shadow pulsating with a life of its own. The empty chair at the table stared back at me.

I moved mechanically toward it, sinking into the cold seat. My gaze fell on the bowl Brir had filled for me. His actions had spoken volumes—he was hurt, yet he still cared. He still worried about my well-being even when he was grappling with his torments.

Being left alone in the dimly lit room, I felt a pang of regret and guilt. His words echoed in my mind, haunting me. “I’ll be back later.” Fuck, at least he was coming back. This was his home.

His people had made him feel like an outcast, and he continued to live that way even here.

The aroma of the food filled the room, the rich scent that made my stomach turn now. I was no longer hungry. Even putting that food in my mouth made my stomach threaten to revolt. I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling roiling within me: guilt, regret, and worry all rolled into one.

I pushed the bowl away, unable to stand the sight of it. I thought of Brir, out in the cold, probably brooding over our altercation. He was hurting, and it was my fault. The magnitude of that truth hit me like a freight train. I slumped over the table, burying my face in my arms. The guilt gnawed at me. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?

The truth about his people and what Brir did to himself made me feel like he was a hypocrite. Now that I fully understood, I felt like an asshole. He wasn’t a hypocrite at all. He was trying to show me what no one else showed him.

A sigh escaped my lips as I turned back towards our makeshift living quarters. A knot tightened within my chest as I picked up the food Brir had prepared, my claws scraping against the rough ceramic surface. I took one spoonful. It tasted like ash on my tongue. I could barely swallow it past the lump in my throat. I placed the bowl back on the table.

I lowered myself onto the floor, curling my tail around me. The action that usually brought me comfort felt isolating now.

My eyes kept straying towards the door. Each minute felt like an hour as I yearned for him to return, to dispel this suffocating quiet with his comforting presence.

I had never liked being alone. But I understood I had pushed him too hard.

A profound regret washed over me. His absence was palpable, his usual warmth replaced by the chill of abandonment. His scent lingered there—an irresistible mix of spice and earth uniquely his own. I knew I had grown attached to the man in that very second.

I curled up on the furs he had made into a bed, a nest for me to sleep in. He had done everything just to make me comfortable, to make me feel less of the burden that I knew I was.

A low whine pulled my attention from my miserable thoughts. Dune was lying down beside me, his head on his front paws. He looked at me with sorrowful eyes.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” I asked the giant beast. He whined again and pushed his nose under my arm so that I would pet him.

“Yes, I believe I did,” I muttered to myself, more than to the beast. I found my fingers brushing through the dense fur on Dune’s head, the repetitive action calming my racing mind if only a little.

The room around us was suddenly too quiet. The subtle nuances of the underground space seemed exaggerated in Brir’s absence; the distant drip of water from an unseen source echoing like a metronome, marking off seconds that felt like hours; Dune’s soft breathing, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern; and my scattered thoughts, each one bouncing around my mind like a misguided echo.

I glanced at the door again. It remained closed and unyielding. My heart ached at the sight. Why did everything come down to doors? Doors being slammed in anger, doors keeping us safe from unseen dangers, doors being closed out of fear and stubborn pride.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the nest, reached over, and grabbed Brir’s jacket. I slipped it around me before I went to the door he had left.

“Come on, Dune. Let’s see if I can fix this.” I reached for the handle.

The door was heavy as I pulled it open. Dune stood just to my right, watching me. He slipped by me, nudging my shoulder with his large head when it was open wide enough for him to pass.

As I closed the door behind us, Dune’s taloned feet clicked as he raced up the stairs.

I hated stairs before becoming part lizard, and I hated them more now. The steps were cold, and the scales didn’t seem to like the cold. The bottom of my feet ached as I placed them on the stone steps that led us up to the surface. I missed shoes. I sighed as I started taking the many steps up to the door that would let us out.

I noticed that there wasn’t light coming in from the bottom of the door like when we had gone to the river. When I finally opened the door, my suspicion was confirmed. Even though I had just woken up a little bit ago, I found it dark outside. Night had fallen.

I stood in the center of the doorway, frozen. My breathing almost became panicked as I looked around myself. I could barely see in front of me, and the light from the moon barely illuminated the outline of the trees.

Dune nudged me forward with his head, and I took a hesitant step forward, my hand not letting go of the door handle. The Lepot squeezed past me again and entered the open area. His eyes glowed in the darkness. They blinked at me before he turned and started walking away.

Was I going to let my fear of the dark keep me here? My jaw clenched as I balled my hands up, fighting my fear.

I looked back longingly at the inviting glow of the underground space, the perceived safety tugging at my apprehensions. I sighed, brushing my hand against the rough stone frame of the door. Dune’s low growl was another reassuring nudge. Fear wasn’t supposed to own me. I was here to make amends, to correct my wrongs.

My tail swished nervously behind me as I cautiously stepped away from the door. With each passing minute, my eyes adjusted slightly to the darkness. The outlines of the trees became clearer, their gnarled branches reaching out as if in welcome—or warning.

The world felt different in the dark as if something lurked out of sight.

Dune huffed impatiently and turned away from me, moving with purpose now. He wanted to go to Brir.

“Well, don’t just leave me here,” I said to the Lepot, rushing to the giant beast’s side. “I hope you know where he is because I have no clue.”

Dune growled in response. The low rumbling echoed through the shadowy woods. He started moving again, his massive form providing some comfort against the cloak of darkness.

I hurried after him, scrambling to keep up with his pace. With each step, I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, anxiety growing within me. The echoes of nocturnal creatures provided an eerie soundtrack as we ventured deeper into the forest.

Trees loomed over us, their higher branches almost blotting out the moonlight completely. A bird in a nearby tree screeched and then took flight, startling me. I jumped and bumped into Dune. He looked back at me with those eerily glowing eyes.

“Sorry. I don’t like the dark,” I told the Lepot. “Keep going.”

I swore Dune was judging me. I could see it in his features, but he started walking again.

After a little while, I had no idea where we were. Dune could have been taking me on a tour of the forest, and I would have had no clue.

When I was just about to beg the Lepot to take me back to the bunker, I saw the light ahead. It was faint but there, moving around between the trees. When we got closer, I could finally tell it was Brir. He had lit the bioluminescence of the lines that crossed his body. He had removed his shirt, and his blue skin shone as he stooped to pull something from the ground.

Brir was breathtaking. I stopped walking so I could just look at the man in front of me. The muscles on his back rippled as he dug in the dirt with his hands. The light around his body shone, creating a glowing circle in a ten-foot radius.

Dune trotted forward, and Brir must have heard the Lepot approaching because his head turned towards the sound.

“Did Artemis let you out?” he asked Dune, still kneeling in the dirt as the giant beast lowered his head so Brir could scratch his nose.

I took a step forward, and Brir’s attention swung to me.

“No, he brought me to you,” I said, taking in the dirt that covered his hands and clothes.

Brir’s eyes narrowed at me before he pushed himself to his feet. His eyes roamed over my body, trailing straight from my head to my toes. I knew that look. He was searching my body to make sure I was okay.

“You shouldn’t have left the bunker after dark,” he scolded. Brir walked towards me, arms crossed over his naked chest. “It’s dangerous out here when the sun has set. Bigger things that like to eat meat come out to hunt.” He stopped right in front of me. If I lifted my hand, I would have been able to touch him. God, I wanted to touch him. My mouth felt dry as I tried to speak.

I cleared my throat. “I thought I was pretty safe with Dune.”

He studied my face for a moment. “Dune is a Lepot, and yes, many creatures would rather not fight one, but there are many who will. Did you even bring a weapon with you?” I rolled my eyes at the last question, knowing Brir had left his sword hanging against the bunker’s wall.

“Did you?” I countered. I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him. I might not know anything about fighting, but I wasn’t useless. I did have these fucking claws now, and I would use them if I had to.

“I can climb a tree if something nasty comes my way.” His voice told me he was seconds away from a lecture. “Can you?”

I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, trying to exude confidence. “Of course I can,” I replied, even though I knew I was full of shit. I had never climbed a tree in my life. I didn’t like heights, but I hoped he couldn’t see that truth in my eyes. I held my ground, determined not to back down, even though I knew deep down that I was out of my depth.

My palms were sweaty, and my heart was racing, but I kept a smug expression as I refused to back down.

I studied Brir’s face. He never took his eyes off me. An almost feral smile changed his features slowly. It ate away the fear and anger I had seen there moments before.

Before I could even move, Brir’s hand was around my throat, and my back was to a tree. My instincts told me to fight, so I raised my hands to push him off. He caught my wrists effortlessly, pinning them above my head against the rough bark.

My breath was coming in ragged pants. I was helpless against him. He pinned my body with his, not allowing me to move an inch. One of his legs pushed between mine, grinding against my lower body.

Then his head dipped. Slowly, he lowered his face towards mine.

“Can you still climb now?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I glared back at him, refusing to respond. His fingers tightened around my wrists. The air around us crackled with tension.

“You want me to climb you like a tree?” I asked, my voice rough.

“I want you to prove your lie to me,” he hissed venomously into my ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps across my exposed scales. He abruptly released me and stepped back, arms folding once more over his chest. His eyes glowed an iridescent red in the soft light emitted from his skin. I was mesmerized by the way the light changed his color. The two mixed to make his eyes appear purple in the darkness. It reminded me of how a blacklight would work.

“I’m not lying,” I said, unconvincing even to my ears.

“Of course you are,” He reached out, and his fingers trailed over my jaw. I could feel the dirt on his hands as he caressed my skin. “I can smell it on you, Butterfly.” He dipped his head and ran his nose across my neck. His tongue snaked out, licking the edge of my ear.

The shiver that ran down my spine was as much from his words as his touch. His closeness was disarming and intoxicating, making it difficult to think straight.

Then, his words hit me like a brick.

“Wait, you can smell when I’m lying?”

“When you’re lying, angry, scared.” He started naming off emotions. “When you want to be fucked, like right now.” Brir rotated his hips against me, rubbing my hard dick with his erection.

I gritted my teeth to stop the moan that was building inside of me.

“You can fucking smell when I’m horny?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he said gently, pulling away again. “Humans have very unique pheromone signatures. It isn’t hard for me to figure out what you need.”

“You knew at the river that I was getting turned on.”

“Yes.” The confirmation was a soft blow, one that left me reeling. A blush crept across my cheeks as I remembered our encounter by the river—the way his hands had glided across my skin and his lips had felt against mine.

My cheeks flared with embarrassment. He’d known all along, and he hadn’t said anything. He’d allowed me to make a fool of myself.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Would you have wanted me to?”

His question caught me off guard. The truth was, I wouldn’t have wanted him to. It was embarrassing enough to have been caught staring at him like some lovesick teenager; I could only imagine how mortifying it would have been if he’d pointed it out.

“No,” I admitted reluctantly.

“Exactly.” Brir turned his back to me, his body still glowing with a soft blue light. “And, Artemis?” he called my name, pulling me from my thoughts. “If you ever lie to me again, I will redden your ass,” he said with a feral smile before looking back at the hole he had been working on.

It took all my self-control not to moan at the thought. I pushed the heel of my hand down on my hard dick, trying to ease some of the tension in my body as my eyes followed Brir.

He had moved away from me, walking back towards his dug hole. His shirtless, glowing form was a beacon in the forest’s darkness. He picked up a small plant, its leaves barely visible in his luminescent grasp, and began to replant it carefully.

“What is that?” I asked curiously, shaking off my embarrassment and following him.

“A memory sapling,” he answered quietly with an unreadable expression. “The flowers from this tree produce a silk that, when woven correctly, is used for some of our gear.”

“The tree is from your world.”

“Yes. There is a hole around here that I have traveled through to bring things back. I found this one on its edges. A seed probably blew over from the other side. Your planet is surprisingly fertile. Everything I have brought back has grown here.” He waved a hand. It was then that I got to see around us. The trees had been cleared back just a little, and rows of plants grew in the space.

Brir’s mention of his world brought back the reason I had dragged myself out of the bunker and through a dark forest to talk to him: I needed to make things right.

“I’m sorry,” I started. “For what I said.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Brir didn’t look at me; he kept digging in the hole.

“I shouldn’t—” I started to explain, but Brir cut me off.

“Yes, you should have, and you’re not the first. Arya reminds me every time I’m in New Pharia to stop holding on to the old ways.”

“But it’s not as easy as that, is it?” I asked, a softness creeping into my voice. I stepped closer to him, the ground slightly uneven under my feet.

“No,” he admitted, his gaze still fixed on the young tree. His fingers gently brushed over the budding leaves of the sapling.

“Can I ask why you’re holding on to them?” I was desperate to understand more about his world and more about him. Brir wasn’t a straightforward man. He was made up of twists and turns.

He continued digging, the rhythmic movement of his glowing body against the forest’s darkness oddly mesmerizing. I didn’t think he would answer me, and I was just about to let it go when he sat back on his heels, hands resting against his thighs. His voice was as quiet as the nocturnal hum of insects around us.

“I had a sister before the rupture.” He started and trailed back off as if lost in his memories.

“You told me,” I confirmed. “She taught you to make medicines.”

“Yes, she was older than me. Her name was Calea, and she was one hell of a healer.”

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“She died,” he told me. I watched his jaw tighten for a second before he took a deep breath and continued. “The rupture opened in the middle of our mountain on our side. It tore away the land, the mountain breaking apart. Pieces falling through the gap. I couldn’t get to her.”

“You weren’t inside the mountain with her?” I asked.

“No, I had already been banished by then,” he explained. “I lived on the top crest of the mountain. The village was buried much deeper.”

I couldn’t help but be relieved that Brir hadn’t been inside that mountain when the rupture had occurred.

“I’m sorry,” I didn’t know what else to say to him. What did you say to someone just trying to hold onto a little bit of the only world they had ever known after they had lost everything that mattered to them?

“You shouldn’t be.” He finally looked at me. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were shiny. “She would have liked you. Said you were good for me.” He laughed. “She was so fucking pushy. Calea had this way about her. If she didn’t get what she wanted, she would harp on you until you gave in.”

I laughed, too. She sounded a lot like Apollo.

Brir continued to speak, but his hand reached mine. His fingers wrapped around me.

“She hated that my tail was docked. Calea begged me to let it grow back.” His voice broke briefly, and I saw a tear trail down his cheek. “I had just agreed when the rupture happened.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy with a sadness that I couldn’t touch. It wasn’t mine to hold or soothe, but I squeezed his hand—a small gesture of comfort. I could guess why he kept it docked.

Every muscle in my body ached to reach out to him, to bridge the distance that lay between us, but the lump in my throat held me captive. I watched him in the dim light, my eyes tracing his hunched form, unlike his usual upright and determined posture.

I swallowed hard, forcing back the choking sensation. “Brir,” I began, my voice barely more than a whisper. “You keep your tail docked now because you feel like you failed her.”

“I did fail her,” His voice was no more than a whisper. Yet, the words echoed through the small clearing between us. Brir pulled his hand from mine and picked up the sapling before unwinding the fabric around the root ball. He placed it in the hole and started pushing the soil around it.

I stayed silent, not knowing what to say, while Brir continued to work on the sapling, gently patting down the soil around it. His gaze seemed far away, lost in memories of a world I could only imagine.

I nodded mutely, my mind made up. I got up to join him. We worked in harmony to finish planting the memory sapling. It was a small act, but it felt significant somehow—like we were planting hope in this alien world.

As we worked side by side under the cover of darkness, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of awe that swept over me.

Brir was an enigma, a tapestry of contradictions interwoven with threads of pain, resilience, and a ferocious determination to persevere. Here in his sanctuary, tending to these otherworldly plants with reverence, he bore little resemblance to the stern figure I’d come to know. His every action was marked by a gentleness that seemed at odds with his character, but it fit him as naturally as his own skin.

Once we’d finished securing the sapling, Brir stood still, gazing at the young plant. “Calea would have loved this place,” he murmured.

I placed a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his glow seep through my fingertips. “I don’t think she would have wanted you to keep your tail docked for her,” Trying to keep my voice gentle and reassuring.

“No, she would have been pissed,” he said at last, looking down at me with a sad smile. “That’s why it hurt so much when you said it back in the bunker.”

“I don’t understand. What I said was mean. I shouldn’t have said it.” Shame pulsed through me.

“No, it wasn’t. It was honesty. I’ve been keeping my tail docked for me, not for her. She wanted me to grow it back. To find a mate and be happy.”

He stopped talking, and his gaze fell back on the tiny sapling. His hand reached out to delicately touch the budding leaves, an almost wistful expression crossing his face. “And I’ve been living in my past, holding onto a memory instead of embracing the present.”

Brir looked away, chin tilting upward as he gazed at the moonless night sky. “Calea was always my compass. Without her, I felt… adrift. It was a self-imposed punishment, yes. But it was also a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?” I asked, my voice barely cutting through the tranquil hum of the forest around us.

“To not care about others.”

I felt my jaw drop. My eyes stung as the pain he had willingly put himself through so he wouldn’t get hurt again buried its way into my chest. “I…” I started, wanting to say something—anything—that could help. But what could I say? This was his pain, his burden. All I could do was be there for him. “Brir,” I finally said, the words barely more than a whisper against the night’s silence. “I care about you.”

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and there was something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite define, but it pulled at my heartstrings nonetheless. Sorrow, regret, longing… they were all there, but so was something else that stirred within me a sense of hope.

“I care about you too,” he told me as he turned and took me in the cage of his arms. His mouth found mine.

The kiss was gentle, like a feather brushing against my lips. It was almost hesitant as if seeking permission to deepen. I kissed him back, trying to show him with my body just how much he meant to me. I tried to put all the reassurance into the kiss, letting him know that I was still there with him. His warmth and presence enveloped me in a cocoon of safety. I could feel the softness of his lips against mine, and the tenderness in his touch spoke volumes more than any words could convey.

When he pulled away, his eyes were still closed. He leaned his forehead against mine. I saw the faintest trace of a smile ghosting across his lips. “I think Calea would have liked you,” Brir murmured as he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting mine in the dim light.

His words stirred a warmth in my chest. It was such a small thing to say, but it felt monumental. It was as if he was letting me into this part of his past that he’d kept closed off for so long. And that meant something.

Silence fell over us again, but it was a comfortable silence. We didn’t need words to communicate; just being with one another was enough.