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I bit my lip, then nodded. “Why the hell not?”

Taking a seat on one side of the table, I gestured to the opposite for Don. I shuffled the cards. “Take a deep breath.”

He did with the utmost seriousness, which made me smile.

“Again.” When I couldn’t find any tension in his body, I fanned out the cards. “I’m going to do a three card draw. Think of a question, or even say it out loud if you desire.”

Don closed his eyes.

“Look at the cards and point to the three that speak to you the most, all while concentrating on your question.”

He carefully indicated three cards with a claw.

With my left hand, I flipped over the first card.

“So the first card represents your past, and it’s the Hierophant.

Basically, it’s saying in the past you’ve clung to traditional paths in career and love.

You like to stay within the conventional, whether that is in love, money, or your career path. None of that is bad.”

His expression didn’t give anything away.

I flipped the next card over. “This second card is your present, and it’s the Ace of Cups, which is good.

It signifies a new beginning is coming right around the corner.

You need to let go of everything that’s holding you back and embrace what’s happening now.

That can mean several things. Like in romance, this can be new feelings.

Or if you are looking for a new career, an opportunity might present itself. ”

The last card flipped over, and I said, “And lastly, this is your future. The reversed Queen of Cups.” I licked my lips.

“Reversals tend not to be good in my experience. The card is saying that in the future, you and your emotions won’t be in sync.

This might mean that you struggle to communicate, which can lead to an inability to cope, or you might let your imagination run away from you.

So like, in love, it might feel turbulent and like you have no safe place.

Career-wise, you become exhausted and like you’re not doing what you want.

Both might lead you to compulsively spend money. ”

Don stared down at the cards, tail wiggling.

“It wasn’t a great way to end,” I said, putting all the cards in a pile. “But the future is always changing, and most people think this is nonsense. It might mean nothing.”

“You believe,” he said with utter certainty.

“I do, but that doesn’t mean bad things are coming for you, Donny.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Donny?” I asked.

He tilted his head to the side, and I blinked. Don said, “When I offer you my throat, it means I’m agreeing with you. It can also mean I’m conceding to your dominance.”

So they were like those werewolves from the smutty shifter romances I liked. Good to know. “It’s a nickname,” I said with a shrug. “I like it. Do you hate it?”

“Not when you say it.”

I grinned, smug as fuck, even though I shouldn’t be.

“Do you wish me to help you sleep tonight?”

Nodding, I bit my lip. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Getting up, I headed to the bedroom, and he followed me, not close enough to freak me out. Much. I lay down, body stiff, and looked away from Don. He crouched next to my bed, not touching, merely looking at me.

“Peace, Vince. I will never harm you or touch you without permission.”

I nodded, gripping the sheets, but I couldn’t get my body to relax.

All I could think about was how much bigger he was than me.

Right on the heel of that thought was utter disgust with myself.

This, all of this, shouldn’t bother me as much as it did.

I just needed to suck it up and ignore everything.

Who fucking care what happened to me? Was I going to sob about it or get over it?

Don shook his head. “Life does not always work like that, Little Warrior.”

My forehead wrinkled.

“If you give me an endearment, it’s only fair that I give you one in return. And no matter what soul type you have, you’re a warrior, Vince.”

“Soul type? What the fuck does that mean?”

He sat back, folding his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Drakcol believe in four types of souls. Warriors, like myself, are red in color. They are the most venerated in our culture, probably due to our warring origin. Then are the spiritual souls. They are the rarest. They have a connection to the Crystal. Their souls are white. Then come the seekers, who are blue. And finally, the creators, who are green in color. Warrior and seeker souls grow darker the purer they are, and spiritual and creator souls grow lighter the more pure they are.”

“How do you know what type of soul you have?” I asked, rolling onto my stomach and pulling the pillow closer.

“A spiritual soul, usually one of the Ranks, must test you,” he said, and my breath began to deepen at the calm, smoothness of his voice. “You touch a piece of crystal that connects to the true Crystal.”

“What’s that?” I asked, eyes closing.

“It’s a giant Crystal that is the center of our culture. It’s guarded and understood only by the Ranks, who are its priests and priestesses. It’s our religion.”

“Hmm,” I moaned, curling around the pillow. The sheets covered me, and a smooth palm with a subtle scritch cupped my cheek. Peace flowed over me like a wave of warm water.

I pressed my hand over Don’s and smiled at him. “You’re pretty wonderful.”

“Thank you, Little Warrior. So are you.”