Chapter 21
On Saturday night, Gramlithyn was in a good mood.
He’d spent the past few days shopping and sharing meals with his housemates.
The mood in the apartment had gone from uneasy to jovial.
It brought to mind the many times Gramlithyn had slept over at Pyxlevir’s house, curled up under a blanket at the Hawthorne-Stone mansion, or invited his friends to stay up most of the night at his parents’ home.
Except Gramlithyn was no longer tormented by the knowledge that Pyxlevir was his mate or his fear that the elf would waltz into the sunset with some other shifter on his arm.
Gramlithyn still pined for Pyxlevir, and nothing was settled, but at least Pyxlevir understood the motive behind his disappearance.
“How’s your shoulder?” Pyxlevir asked as he walked into the living room in his pajamas. After everyone else had decided to go to bed for the night, Pyxlevir had suggested they watch a movie and opted to change clothes before they started.
“I’m half elf and half zebra; it’s already healed, Pyx.”
Thanks to Pyxlevir’s suggestion, Jeremiah’s quick work at sketching a perfect hummingbird feather, and a cancellation at his favored tattoo studio, Gramlithyn had a fresh tattoo at the top of his right shoulder blade.
Pyxlevir curled up on the sofa cushion next to Gramlithyn and pulled a throw over his lap. “Well, how should I know? It’s not like I have any tattoos.”
“Every Valzadari elf would shun you if their Chieftain’s only son defied tradition by getting inked.”
“I know. I wish my parents would have more kids so I could live a wilder life,” Pyxlevir joked with a bright grin. “You’re a Chieftain’s son; I don’t know why you get to do so much fun stuff.”
“Because my mom is a zebra, and the Verdanyth aren’t as uptight as the Valzadari.”
“Oh, now we’re going to insult my entire tribe?”
“They whisper about your dad because he survived when your mother died. That was almost two and a half decades ago. Anyone with a heart in their chest would rejoice. You were a baby and deserved to have at least one of your parents alive. But no, they’d rather Kalthekor drop dead to respect tradition.
Not that he had any fucking choice about it. He’s not Fate.”
“Yeah, well, I try not to talk to Valzadari who feel that way about my dad.”
“But you must’ve talked to your dad about the entire situation by now and learned about your mother’s death.”
To Gramlithyn’s surprise, Pyxlevir lifted his beer and took a big drink instead of answering immediately. He held the half-empty bottle of Centaurian Brew in his lap and refused to make eye contact. “Not exactly.”
“Pyx, you still haven’t asked your dad about your mom?”
“No, because she doesn’t matter. I never even met her.”
“Not true, you just don’t remember it.”
“Either way, she’s long gone and…it’s scary.”
“I know you don’t want to upset your dad by bringing it up, but you have questions. You deserve to have them answered. She’s a part of you too.”
“I wish both my dads were my biological parents,” Pyxlevir muttered.
“Imagine that. You’d be able to shift into a centaur.”
“I’d also be tall enough to reach the top shelf of anything.”
“Buy a stepstool.”
“Maybe I’ll find a zebra one and pretend it’s you. Whenever I’m annoyed, I’ll jump on its back.”
“You’re short, but you’re not weightless. The damn thing will break, and you’ll wind up on the floor covered in bruises.”
“That will heal in seconds because I’m an elf, and it’ll be totally worth it.”
The mischievous smile on Pyxlevir’s face made Gramlithyn’s dick twitch. “Why do I have the feeling that you secretly have a nefarious plan to take over the world?”
“It won’t stay secret forever,” Pyxlevir said, waggling his brows.
“Maybe your mate is somewhere out in the world and his or her sole job is to keep you from fulfilling your plan for evil domination?”
“Gramlithyn, you’re my mate.”
“What if we have another one?” Although triple matebonds were rare, Gramlithyn worried that Fate had additional curveballs to throw into the mess he’d already made of his life.
He wanted to be open-minded, but his zebra grew frenzied at the thought of someone putting their hands on Pyxlevir or conquering the elf’s heart.
Pyxlevir polished off his beer and set it on the coffee table. “I can honestly say it never occurred to me I’d have more than one.”
“Well, think about it.”
“Gramlithyn, you can’t worry about every possibility.
Just because triple matebonds exist doesn’t mean it will affect either of our lives.
Personally, I don’t think it’d suit me. I’m an only child, and I used to get mad if you wanted Leydira to sleep over at your house.
My parents spoiled me; I lack the maturity to focus on two mates. ”
“I can’t believe you’re still bringing up that one time I asked you if I could borrow Leydira. It was a million years ago.”
A sense of relief flowed through Gramlithyn. Pyxlevir didn’t want a third mate, and neither did he. Hopefully, Fate heard them loud and clear.
“Excuse me, but you wanted my doll. The one my dad bought me. Little Leydira with her blue skin thanks to Dra’Kaedan, and the beads Evlithar helped me put in her hair.”
“I didn’t want to keep her. It was for a single night. We were six.”
“Did you offer me Erironarra? No, you wanted both dolls, and I’d be alone.”
“You had Centy, Griffie, and Alek. Maybe Raf?”
“No, silly, Aleksander hadn’t met Rafe yet.”
“That’s so hard for my brain. In my head they’re such a unit that I can’t remember them being apart. It’s like trying to imagine my parents without each other.”
“I’m glad I have only the vaguest recall of the days before my dad met Aris because I get what you’re saying.
But I remember the big fight when Aris moved back to Uncle Timotheus’s house.
I have no clue why they fought, and I’m sure as fuck not asking, but I’m glad it happened that way, otherwise I’m not sure I would’ve been at the house with my uncles. ”
“Yeah, they’re great guys.”
“I don’t have many memories without you in them. Even after you were gone, I was pissed about a holiday you were missing or wondering where the fuck you were,” Pyxlevir said. The words were terse, but his tone wasn’t angry. That didn’t stop Gramlithyn from feeling guilty.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t asking for another apology. Just pointing out how important you are to the story of my life so far.”
Gramlithyn licked his dry lips and swallowed thickly. “I get it. I…well, it was easier to walk away from everything I knew and all the people I loved than deal with your rejection. You were too big a part of me to pretend like it didn’t matter or that I wasn’t hurt.”
“I hate that your overactive brain cost you everything.”
“It took its toll on you too.”
“Stop it,” Pyxlevir ordered as he shifted on the sofa so he was sitting cross-legged facing Gramlithyn instead of the television. “You’re deflecting the whole thing as if your feelings weren’t involved too.”
“Trust me, I’ve spent many hours feeling sorry for myself or kicking my own ass.
I can do that in the privacy of my room if the urge hits.
Right now, I’m with you and we’re discussing how my decisions affected you.
Would you rather I pretended the last six years didn’t happen just because you accepted my apology? That’s not fair, Pyx.”
“Do you know what I think?”
“Tell me.”
“The best thing for us right now is a subject change. We’ve been over the past. If I had to guess, it’ll be a subject we’ll revisit, but let’s not make it the center of everything, okay? Let’s figure out how to rebuild our friendship and focus on the happy memories we share.”
“I like that idea.”
“Good, do you remember the first time I made you get drunk?”
Far more interested in chatting with Pyxlevir than bothering to put on the movie they’d discussed watching, Gramlithyn scooted so he was tucked into the corner of the sofa and in direct eye contact with his mate.
“Of course I do. You laughed so hard at me puking that you rolled off Timotheus’s deck. ”
“You deserved it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t you remember? You were convinced you could drink twice as much as me because you’re a zebra and have a larger body mass.
Please, I’m short, but I don’t have to absorb protein.
My metabolism is probably four hundred times faster than yours.
You were singing songs off-key and giggling to yourself while I was still nearly sober. ”
“You’re built differently than the rest of us. Or maybe you’ve been sneaking alcohol since you were six.”
“Nope, had my first one at eight. My parents grounded me, and I cried because we couldn’t hang out after school for a week.”
Gramlithyn recalled those dark days well.
At eight, being parted from Pyxlevir for seven days outside of class had seemed like the end of the world.
They’d had a sleepover at Gramlithyn’s house as soon as Pyxlevir’s punishment had ended, and his best friend had been so excited, he’d kissed him on the cheek.
“For some reason, I remembered the punishment but not why you were grounded in the first place,” Gramlithyn said.
“I celebrated by kissing you for the first time. Your little cheek turned a cute shade of brown. Who knew that’s what happens when you mix red or pink with light green.”
“How do you remember that?” Gramlithyn asked.
“Because I thought it was adorable and repeated it as often as I could to see it happen again.”
Ignoring the heat building under his skin, Gramlithyn shook his head as Pyxlevir chortled. “Shut up.”
“It’s happening right now,” Pyxlevir crowed.
“Your little elf body is possessed by an evil spirit,” Gramlithyn accused while secretly loving Pyxlevir’s mischievous side. Nothing was ever boring with Pyxlevir around, and if the cost of being around him was a few blushes, then Gramlithyn was happy to suffer.
“You made me your best friend the day we met, so the real question is if you know I’m possessed, what’s wrong with you that you wanted to hang around me constantly?”
“I think we could both make a list of all the things wrong with me pretty easily.”
Pyxlevir poked Gramlithyn’s knee. “Be nice to yourself. It’s my job to tease you. Do you know why? Because I can do it without hurting your feelings. You can’t. You’re shitty to yourself, and you worry too much.”
“My brain doesn’t have an off switch, Pyx. It never has.”
“You probably worry even when you’re jerking off.”
A wave of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment warmed Gramlithyn as an image of Pyxlevir with his hand wrapped around his own lovely blue cock filled his mind. “Nope, all brain function goes right out the fucking window,” Gramlithyn muttered.
“The thought of sex grossed me out until my eighteenth birthday.”
“That’s because you’re an elf and lacked sexuality until you met your mate.”
“You’re an elf hybrid; you lacked it until you figured out we were paired by Fate.”
Gramlithyn chuckled. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
“Well, you made it sound like we weren’t both elves.”
“Being a zebra is easier.”
“Do you think so?” Pyxlevir asked. “Because I’ve wondered about that.
I don’t have to worry about protein, and I don’t share my soul with a beast. I know it’s this wonderful, peaceful thing, but I worry about what it must be like if man and beast aren’t aligned.
Like how shifters can die of heartbreak and stuff.
I’m just an elf. Although we were once Fae, our magic was stripped away fifteen thousand years ago.
I’m basically a cute dude with pointy ears. ”
“With thousands of years of tradition you must obey, and sexuality tied to a single person who Fate decides. Having a beast comes with risks, but there are advantages too. Also, for the record, you’re a hell of a lot more than cute.”
Pyxlevir bit his lip, and his gaze drifted to his lap. “So, you wish you could have sex with other people?”
“At eighteen, I wanted simplicity and to get far from here. It occurred to me that if I wasn’t an elf, I could pretend mates didn’t exist. As a shifter, I could have relationships with other people and somehow convince myself Fate had no impact on my life.
But do I want to be with someone else? No, I’m too much of an elf to contemplate that. My sexuality is tied to Fate’s choice.”
“Your sexuality is tied to me. Is that a problem for our future? Is it too difficult to imagine having a sexual relationship with me?”
Gramlithyn’s zebra whinnied a protest at the doubt their mate was expressing.
Desperate to reassure his beast and Pyxlevir, Gramlithyn went with his gut and reached out to gently caress his other half’s cheek.
Pyxlevir’s gaze immediately darted over to clash with Gramlithyn’s as the hybrid dropped his hand to his lap.
“No, Pyx. I have no issue imagining any kind of relationship with you,” Gramlithyn assured him quietly.
For several seconds, they stared at each other.
Gramlithyn desperately tried to gauge Pyxlevir’s mood.
Shock was apparent, but there was something softer there he couldn’t define.
As for himself, Gramlithyn was pleased Pyxlevir hadn’t slapped his arm away.
A heartbeat later, he sucked in a stunned breath when Pyxlevir cupped Gramlithyn’s face in his small blue hands.
Gramlithyn scrambled to recover, but his gray matter skidded to a halt as Pyxlevir softly pressed his mouth to Gramlithyn’s trembling lips. The kiss was brief but lovely.
“Good, because I think about you every time I jerk off,” Pyxlevir whispered.
“Dangerous. You’re both dangerous and evil.”
Pyxlevir smiled knowingly. “I think you like those things about me.”
“Stop reading my mind. I need another beer, want me to grab one for you too?” Gramlithyn asked. Truthfully, he needed a moment to calm his libido more than he needed a drink.
Pyxlevir dropped his hands, and his grin remained as he scooted back to allow Gramlithyn to stand. “Sure, I could use another one.”
“Should we start that movie?”
“Afraid of what we’ll do if we don’t watch it?”
Gramlithyn stood but slanted a look at Pyxlevir on his way to the fridge. “Yes, Pyx. Absolutely.”
The elf Fate had paired him with cackled but flipped on the television.
Although Gramlithyn was willing to familiarize himself with Pyxlevir’s body, it was far too soon in their journey as mates to focus on the physical.
Hopefully, they could build an emotional bond and avoid any chance of a separation agreement in their future.