Page 17

Rhaego brimmed with determination. Aurora was finally allowing him to care for her, and he’d rip off his left horn before fumbling this chance to show her how satisfying his attentions could be.

Though there were a plethora of methods he had in mind aimed at rendering her a blissful, relaxed puddle, he needed to keep his care platonic. He arranged the seats in the sitting area to face the small stream, pulling a table close and setting his gathered items upon it. Then he settled into a chair and drummed his claws against the arm.

How long would it be before she joined him? On the one hand, the longer she relaxed the better it would be for her. On the other, he vibrated with anticipation to see her again.

He stared at his communicator. He should be sending an encrypted message back to Verakko with a call request. They’d been discussing the third human, Maggie, when Rhaego had heard the crash from the kitchen and the violent coughing that followed. He’d fled with a clipped “Gotta go.” Verakko would be wondering where he’d gone.

But this was more important.

Except it wasn’t.

He ground his jaw. His personal desires and his obligations were battling each other. He’d come to Tuva with the understanding that he’d be leaving with Diana and possibly his mother but that it was too much of a risk to rescue the other two humans.

Then, he’d caught Aurora….

The plan had altered to include an escape with Diana, Aurora, and his mother. That was absolutely all he could manage, though. Maggie would have to stay behind.

But then Aurora had looked at him like some kind of hero. She’d praised him for his bravery in saving them. She’d assumed Maggie was included, and he hadn’t corrected her. And now he didn’t know how he could leave the third human behind. The more he thought on it, the crueler it seemed. To leave one human alone in a harsh city, with no allies?

Rhaego had shared his decision to include Maggie in his rescue, and Verakko had been justifiably concerned about it. Every additional complication was a risk. Yet he couldn’t stand the idea of letting Aurora down. Adding Maggie was a feat, but he could do it. Probably. Neither Verakko nor Maxu could do anything to stop him anyway.

His gaze dropped to his communicator again, and it flashed to show he’d received a message. He stuffed the device in a pocket out of sight. Selfishly, he turned off the part of his brain urging him to call Verakko back. He would .

Later.

After he saw Aurora to sleep, he’d stay awake for as long as it took to reestablish contact. He’d continue planning into the wee hours of the morning if he had to, then arise with the sun to prepare a nourishing breakfast for her. He could do both.

He needed both.

Watching Aurora struggle and suffer was a distraction they couldn’t afford. That was all there was to it. Seeing her well was essential for his focus. So much so that all pretense and propriety had dropped away and he’d ordered her around. He’d never commanded a female do anything before, but he found her prompt obedience…stimulating.

At first, he’d believed her refusal to allow him to perform chores for her was made for the same reason a Tuvastan female would refuse him— had refused him. It was a declaration that she didn’t believe him capable of fulfilling her needs. If a wife requested a male not cook for her, the undercurrent of that refusal was that she didn’t think him competent enough to cook something fitting.

To be denied in such a way was a blow to any male’s ego yet not altogether uncommon. But Rhaego got a different sense from Aurora. It felt like there was some kind of guilt tied to her refusals, as though she didn’t want him troubling himself for her.

All he wanted was to trouble himself for her. To demonstrate the lengths at which he yearned to trouble himself for her. To prove he could make her happy in all ways and instill in her a sense that he was essential to her life and her happiness. Indispensable.

Existing in a shared den with her. Smelling her. Scenting the changes brewing in her body and knowing exactly what he could do to help her feel better, but holding back was like an unquenchable thirst.

Rhaego had always felt a marrow-deep need to prove himself. He’d structured his life around this secret goal. To prove to all of Tuva that he had value. That he contributed good to the world, not bad.

He’d set out as a mercenary for his city, taking jobs around the universe assigned to him by his own people to further demonstrate his loyalty. They were the difficult jobs no one else wanted to do, and he performed them with a smile. Yet it never seemed to be enough.

And now circumstances were forcing him to abandon that lifelong pursuit of acceptance. This mission, whether it ended in failure or success, would cement the inescapable truth that he would die never having changed their minds.

For so long he’d told himself that he was worthy. That he had value. That he was not a blight. But deep down, he’d always known he would only ever feel the truth behind that sentiment when his people validated those feelings.

His chosen kin could tell him how deserving he was until his horns splintered, but there was something insidious about insecurity sown during youth. The roots were deep. They burrowed into young spongy bone and grew alongside their host, hardening and aging until there was no distinguishing between what was natural and what was planted.

He didn’t know why—he didn’t know if in desperation he’d transferred his unattainable goal onto the female least likely to ever find him worthy—but he felt that if he could make Aurora believe he was honorable, that that might heal what he’d been trying to heal for so long.

Her scent hit him before the sound of her footsteps, and he stood.

His insides warmed as though sunshine were moving toward him though he couldn’t see any glimpse of her yet.

Rhaego swallowed, nerves and anticipation buzzing together. When she appeared, he noted she was dressed in the simple sleeping gown he’d laid out for her.

Her eyes drifted down his clothing, and she smiled, sprinkling electricity across his horns. “You got all dressed up,” she commented

He peered down at his formal attire. Was her surprise happy? Impressed? Admonishing? Would it be too desperate of him to ask what she wanted him to wear?

Ages ago, in a bid to be helpful, Jade had suggested that he don tighter clothing than he normally preferred while around human females he might be interested in courting. He’d thought it was silly at the time. A running theme among humans was that they shrank away at his size. Why showcase his strength in formfitting attire if it was the very thing causing their fear?

But he respected her opinion, so he’d tested the outfits on occasion. Surprisingly, he’d noticed eyes lingering more often when he dressed in such a manner. He’d taken the note to heart while selecting which outfits to wear in front of Aurora. Not enough to be obvious—he hoped—but perhaps enough to draw her eye if so inclined.

Her gaze skimmed over the skin of his exposed chest, and his heart stilled, waiting to catch any sign of reaction. She blinked, and her eyes shifted away. What did that indicate? Anything?

“Would you prefer me to dress more casually?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She smiled again while settling into her seat. “No. You look great. I just hope you’re not dressing up for my sake—I want you to be comfortable.”

What did that mean? During a real marriage, it wouldn’t be proper for him to traipse around in casualwear. Was she really concerned about his comfort? Or was she reminding him that this wasn’t a marriage and he shouldn’t be thinking of her preferences when selecting outfits?

But no. She was a human. Her mind worked differently. Would that thought even…even…

Drops from her wet hair dripped onto the silk of her dress, distracting him.

“Thank you for the bath. Whatever you put in it really helped. I feel better. I could probably skip dinner and go to sleep now so we can get an early start tomorrow.”

Trying not to toss his fist in the air in celebration, he sat and pushed her meal toward her. “Eat first.”

Brows lifting at the command, she peered down at the bowl and lifted it.

He’d never been so demanding of a female, and he found that her continued obedience did something lascivious to him. The dynamic was a bit intoxicating. Yet he was unsure as to whether he should be allowing himself to enjoy it.

“I’m sorry. It’s brew again,” he apologized. “I would have made something better, but this will be good for your throat.”

She glanced at her lap, embarrassed. “That spice…”

“It was an easy mistake,” he assured. “My fault for not remembering to warn you. I knew you were scavenging the kitchen, and I didn’t think.”

“That’s nice of you, but it’s not your fault. It seems my life is going through a bit of a rough patch right now, but it’ll end.” She took in a large breath and sighed it out, cupping her hands around the bowl. “Every season has its purpose.”

Rhaego tipped his head. So simple and so reassuring somehow.

“My nan used to say that whenever I was in a bad mood. It drove me crazy.”

“She sounds like an interesting female,” Rhaego commented, dragging his own bowl of fouthi brew closer and taking a sip. “She was imbued, you said?” he asked.

Her brows wrinkled. She lifted the bowl, placing her elbows on the table in front of her. “Imbued?” she asked before pursing her pretty pink lips and blowing across the surface of the steaming liquid.

“A witch,” he amended.

“Oh, yeah. She was. A great one.” Aurora smiled. “Me too, for what it’s worth.” She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I’m a witch. Not that I’m great—I’m okay. I prefer kitchen witchery. Cooking. Which means I’m kind of out of luck here until I relearn how to cook.”

Her chuckle sent a bolt through Rhaego’s belly. She took a sip of her brew, and her eyes slipped closed. A low hum of appreciation that had his horn glands throbbing to life rose out of her.

“Why do you call witches imbued ? What does that mean?”

He took a large gulp of his soup, then set it aside and began packing a pot of deralja. “Imbued by the Goddess,” he explained. “We believe a little piece of her is inside every witch.”

Aurora settled back into her chair, cupping the bowl as though warming her hands.

Rhaego couldn’t help the pass his eyes took across her visage. The room was lit in warm light, the bubbling of the stream and the buzz of insects trilling a calming melody. Aurora sat in her downy, cushioned chair, her cheeks and nose pinkened from the sun. With her soft curves shifting under the silken fabric of her nightgown and her fluffy damp hair drying into a wild halo, she looked for all the world like comfort incarnate. He wanted to sink into her and take some of that peace for himself.

“Does she have a name? Your goddess?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Her name is Aurora and Rhaego and mountain and stars and moon and tears and hope and death. She’s all things.”

Rhaego’s pulse thrummed heavily. When Aurora looked at him the way she was looking at him now, it gave him the impression she enjoyed listening to him speak, regardless of what he was saying. He’d never been the sort to talk much. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because he felt others preferred it that way. Aurora didn’t seem to think like that.

“Some say she’s abandoned us. Others say she’s gone to devour our old world and left her eyes behind to watch over us.” He pointed outside as Gui rose in the sky, the larger moon one of her two eyes.

Wide eyes following his finger, Aurora caught sight of the moon, then glanced back at him, enraptured. He leaned in, like he were sharing a secret. “She eats planets and stars, you see. And she uses the dust to form us. If a drop of her sweat falls as she molds you, you’re born recognizing the connectedness of her creations. You’re born imbued.”

A slow dreamy smile bloomed across his bride’s face, making him vibrate with satisfaction.

“That’s a beautiful thought,” she murmured.

He traced the curves of her lovely face. “You inspire beautiful thoughts.”

She blinked at the compliment, a darker flush rising to her cheeks. She shrank, nearly hiding behind her bowl, but said nothing. Rhaego forced his mind not to dwell on what her movements meant.

As Aurora sipped her brew and gazed at the bubbling stream, Rhaego snuck glances, privately appreciating her. She was imbued. He felt even more unworthy. But at the same time a sinister yearning overtook him. To be mated to one of the imbued? To not only have the Goddess gift him with a kind, beautiful, intelligent, delicious female but one who had a piece of that cosmic divinity in her?

It was an unfathomable thing, and Rhaego stupidly let his mind wander. If she swelled with his seed, their child would be imbued as well. He pictured a pretty little girl with pink skin, puffy blonde hair and rosy horns. No one would dare imagine that gift contained an ounce of his blightedness.

The deralja finished heating, a curl of smoke wafting from the main pipe. He lifted it, showing it to her. “I’d like you to take a very small puff. It will relax you and help you sleep through the night.”

She eyed the device, then him, then the device again. “It’s safe for me? I mean, how strong is it if you take it too?”

It stung that she felt the need to question him, but he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t earned unflinching trust yet, no matter how badly he wanted it. “I’d never give you anything that wasn’t safe.”

Trust in me, little doe.

He held his breath waiting to see if she would, and after a moment, she nodded.

Rhaego guided her to place her mouth on the spout, then modeled the depth of breath she should take. She followed suit, then breathed out and smiled. “It smells good.”

Aurora went back to eating her brew, her hair still dripping onto her dress, while Rhaego debated committing an act thought by many as barbaric.

But…she wouldn’t know.

He lifted the pipe to his mouth but paused before his lips touched. What if she told someone he’d done this? But why would she? How would such a thing come up?

Committed to taking this small pleasure, he pressed his lips to the pipe without wiping the mouthpiece. A thrill ran through him at the contact. He closed his eyes, privately rejoicing in the crass act. Tuvastans did not share pipes. Ever. Yet he wanted his mouth to be where hers had been. He wanted their cells and saliva to mingle. Rhaego inhaled deeply, appeased.

Her bowl hit the table with a soft thump as she set it aside, then sank into her chair, limbs lax. Her gaze slid to him. “This is very nice,” she said before a yawn overtook her. “Like indica but gentler.”

Victory. He silently celebrated and sucked in another puff of deralja. Did the metal of the mouthpiece taste sweeter than normal? Or was that just his imagination? He should put the pipe down before he inhaled too much while trying to discern the flavor of her lips.

Her focus stayed glued to him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He set the pipe aside, licking his lips.

“Are you sure this mission is worth it?”

Rhaego didn’t know how to respond. What could she possibly mean? “Of course,” he answered plainly.

“I understand that matehood is really sacred to you and that you feel compelled to help. Bringing down the Queen and saving that man…” Her lips pursed, her brows drawing together. “You’re only one person, and you have so much weight on your shoulders. And at the end of it all, you’ll be banished from your city, your family.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Rhaego’s throat bobbed. The tightness made speaking difficult. “And there is no one else to do it.”

After a few moments of silence she whispered, “That’s unfair.”

He tried to ignore the vice squeezing his ribs. It was unfair. But that had never mattered.

Whenever he started to believe that something was unfair, voices from his past played through his mind. Teachers, friends, the king—they reminded him that this was his lot in life and his only hope was to prove his goodness. To allow himself to be cut little by little in service to others until he’d bled enough to rid his insides of his blighted blood.

But Aurora was looking at him now as if she didn’t accept that. It felt odd to be faced with someone who seemed to believe he had the right to as much happiness as anyone else.

The deralja was clouding his mind, whispering decadent thoughts. What would it feel like for him to take as well as give? To say what it was he wanted and not be surprised when his wishes were met? Did others live their lives in such a way?

I took her, a voice whispered. His fever stirred, muddling any rising guilt. Despite the wrongness of it, he recalled the blissful gratification he’d felt when claiming his little human bride and wanted to purr.

Could he recapture that feeling again? His hazy mind inflated with greed and entitlement.

She’d turned her attention back toward the stream, her drooping lids fighting to stay open. His hungry gaze roved over her, lingering for longer than he normally dared.

Before he knew what he was doing he rose from his seat. Slowly, he stepped beside Aurora, drawing her attention. She didn’t flinch as he approached, just tipped her head so she could stare up at him.

“Shift forward so I can fix your hair.” He wanted to demand it, but he kept the words light, trying to manufacture a tone that indicated this was a completely normal, platonic act. If she really knew how much it meant to him, she’d surely refuse.

His fingers tingled as he waited to see whether she’d do as he asked. Absently, she lifted a hand to her hair, then winced. “That bad, huh?”

It was laughable that there was any universe in which he would not only think her hair looked bad but that he would deign to tell her so. “Not bad. Just…in need of tending.” Untrue. But he wanted to touch her, and allowing her to think she looked unkempt felt like the least vulnerable reason he could give to do so.

At length, and a little sluggishly, she pushed herself up and scooted forward further and further, and before he could stop her, she’d plopped down onto the floor. Rhaego stared.

He’d planned to hunch over so she could remain comfortable, but…did she expect him to sit behind her? With her head so deliciously close to his lap?

Suddenly his tongue felt too big for his mouth. Rather than choose the polite and gentlemanly thing to do, which would be to force her to reclaim her seat and stand awkwardly bent behind her, he sat. His knees splayed on either side of her shoulders, her vulnerable spine facing him.

She didn’t flinch when he shifted close behind. No hint of fear peppered her scent. His pretty bride just waited, so trusting it made his chest ache.

His hands were shaky. It was an effort to retract his claws. Rhaego swept the pads of his fingers in front of her neck and then slipped them across her throat to gather all her hair. Her skin was even softer than he’d imagined. She drew in a slow breath as if she enjoyed the touch as much as he did, and his fevered blood began to trickle toward his cock.

Aurora’s hair was silky and damp, gliding across his palm like water. Extending the claws on his right hand, he brushed them through her mane, working out the knots. He scraped the sharp tips across her scalp gently and nearly combusted when she let out a little sound of pleasure and shivered.

With her position below him, he had a clear view of her bare neck, shoulders, and chest and he almost growled when he caught sight of goose bumps rising on her skin. Unable to stop himself, he scraped his claws over her scalp again and purred when she trembled in answer.

As someone with a good deal of hair, he felt the action of another person playing with your tresses was a fairly universal pleasure. Anyone could be seated behind her doing this and she would probably like it. But he allowed himself—perhaps delusionally—to imagine that she enjoyed him touching her hair. Specifically. That she wanted him to caress her neck and tame her curls.

His fever warmed his palms to such a degree that he felt as if he were drying her hair just by running his heated skin across the damp ends. The deralja helped to keep his purr buried and to keep his cock from throbbing, but it didn’t keep his horn glands from producing. He held his breath when his musk drifted into the air. Would she notice?

He inhaled, trying to gauge how strong his radiating musk was, but he scented her divine aroma first. The urge to mark rose, his spiking fever egging it on. Her scent was intoxicating on its own, but every time his glands activated and he smelled her, the scent suddenly morphed into something…unfinished.

Like a perfectly crafted dessert left uneaten or a flower un-smelled. Her scent was a thing of perfection and yet lacking. And what it was missing…was him.

He ached to rub his musk over her. To mix their scents. Smell her and smell himself on her. His horns and fever became a little too excited by his musing, and he tried to breath only through his mouth.

He needed to divest himself of some of this urge before his mind clouded over. Aurora’s hair was smooth now. No more tangles remained. He should plait it and send her to sleep, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Her head bobbed and dipped backward while he worked as though his touch was lulling. It was a power he loved wielding.

The damp of his musk built under his horns. The amount would increase the closer he got to the heat. His horn glands produced only a small fraction, though. Just enough so that if he rubbed his face into her neck or buried his tongue between her thighs, his scent would stick.

The majority would be produced from the gland just above his cock. That gland would activate days before the heat, and it’d make him slick. She would reek of him if she let him take her during that time. He’d smell himself on her for weeks, and so would everyone else.

Rhaego daydreamed about it as he tugged and twisted and twirled his bride’s hair between his claws. But then something exceptional happened.

Her head dipped to the side until her temple rested on his knee.

The air evaporated from his lungs.

She’d fallen asleep…

With him at her back, claws extended and brushing over her tender neck.

His purr rose to a rumble. He watched her intently for any signs of movement, but she didn’t rouse. If anything, she pressed her cheek further into his thigh. His insides flared with fever—not quite from lust and definitely not from anger, but from some other overwhelming emotion. There was a gnawing in his chest and a burning below his horns. His hand lifted.

Don’t, he hissed to himself. It’s not right. His hand rose higher.

Stop.

But he couldn’t help himself. Quickly—as if that made it better—he swiped his fingers across the slick skin under his horns, gathering a coating of musk. Before he was able to convince himself not to, he combed the scent through her hair, massaging the oil into her glossy ends.

There was a wave of relief that washed over him when the scent of their mingled pheromones reached his nose, but the relief was followed closely by guilt and shame. What made him feel even worse was that any Tuvastan with a nose would know Rhaego had marked her. They’d make assumptions based on the mixed scents.

But Aurora wouldn’t.

Her human nose wasn’t refined enough. She’d have no idea what signal he’d just sent the world unless he told her, and his insides burned with embarrassment at the thought of revealing something like that.

Simmering with mortification, he gently scooped up Aurora and carried her to her room. She didn’t rouse even a fraction. She really did sleep deeply.

Rhaego hesitated to enter her room, knowing that he should wait for permission, but the thought of waking her when she needed this rest so badly felt like the worse of the two options. So he entered. After tucking her under her covers, he crossed to the windows, swiped his fingers down the far right pane until the dimming activated, then prowled to the door.

Before leaving, he allowed himself a final look at her beautiful sleeping form and rubbed at his chest with the heel of his palm. He wasn’t worthy of her yet—he knew that. But he’d do whatever it took to earn her.

She’d asked if this mission was worth it.

He might lose his city, but if he could gain her affection, it would not merely be a consolation prize. It would be an echelon of reward he hadn’t known existed.

And yes. For that, his sacrifice would be worth it.