Page 29

“Yeah,” Rusty said roughly, studying the moonlight highlighting Gem’s profile, “it is.”

When a small eye swiveled in his direction, Rusty faced forward and walked toward a lone tree. The wood was bleached by the sun and still warm under Rusty’s fingers. The branches were gnarly and twisted, sharp needle-like foliage pushing through the bark toward the sky.

Careful not to jab himself, Rusty climbed nimbly to the lowest branch and crawled along its outstretched bough. He found a spot where the needles were brittle and weak, and he brushed them away. Perched there, he let his legs dangle as he retrieved his loose tobacco and rolled a cigarette.

Gem met him there, tall enough that he could fold his upper arms over the branch, chin resting on his furry forearm. His middle hands curled around the bough while his lower arms hung at his sides.

Rusty flicked his lighter to life as Gem sighed contentedly. The spicy smoke filled Rusty’s lungs, and he blew it out through his nose as he tucked the lighter back into his pocket. He took another inhale before offering the cigarette to Gem.

Instead of taking it from Rusty’s grasp, Gem simply leaned in and captured the end in his mouth, his lips brushing Rusty’s knuckles. He sucked in a lungful, a coy smile dancing over his face. Then he turned back to the desert, tilted his head back, and released the smoke into the night.

They shared the cigarette in silence, and it may have been the first time the Araknis had ever been this quiet for this long in Rusty’s presence. He liked listening to Gem talk, but this was nice too. They could just… be .

As Gem took the last drag of the cigarette, Rusty looked down at his swinging legs.

“When it rained, my mom and I would sit on the porch of our shack. It didn’t matter how late it was.

If I was asleep, she’d wake me, and I’d sit in her lap as she groomed my fur.

And we’d watch the lightning and the rain.

“She’d tell me stories, of battling gods and vengeful nature, of magic long ago forgotten.

She’d paint pictures in the angry sky, and I believed her.

Because she was my mother, and I loved her more than anything.

” His chest hitched as he inhaled, but he pushed through it.

“She loved the rain. She loved thunderstorms. She loved the beauty in the chaos, even if I didn’t know what that meant back then.

But I loved the rain too, because she did.

“But then she died, and I couldn’t love the rain anymore. It reminded me of everything I’d lost and would never have again. And it hurt. It still does.”

Gem shifted beside him until his elbow pressed to Rusty’s hip. “Well, you can come hang out with me anytime it gets the least bit cloudy. Maybe we can love the rain together.”

The offer shouldn’t have squeezed Rusty’s chest like a vise the way it did. Words had failed him, but his traitorous tail knew what to say. It swept around and curled over Gem’s back.

At long last, he managed to choke out, “Thanks, Gem. That’d be nice.”

Shuffling closer still, Gem leaned his head against Rusty’s side, and Rusty cautiously slipped his fingers into Gem’s hair. His curls were silky soft, and Gem sighed as he massaged the base of his skull.

When their second shared cigarette was nothing but ash, Rusty climbed down, and, still strangely quiet, Gem offered him a tender smile and an open hand. Fingers trembling for reasons Rusty couldn’t fathom, he slipped his hand into Gem’s and let him lead them home.

“You wanna come up?” Gem asked as they came to a stop in front of his building. “I could watch another episode of Chainsaw Man .”

He shouldn’t. If Rusty was smart, he would go home, but he’d apparently grown entirely stupid when it came to Gem. So he nodded and trailed after the Araknis. They rode the lift to the third floor, and one of Gem’s hands absently pet through the fur between Rusty’s ears the entire time.

The urge to purr rose within him, but he swallowed down the sound. But if he angled his head slightly to give Gem better access, pushing into the comforting touch the tiniest bit? Well, he’d leave that secret in the elevator.

On the third floor, the lift doors parted quietly, and Gem’s hand dropped from Rusty’s head. He hated how much he missed the warmth.

They stepped out into the hall but both froze at the same time when they spotted the Elas on the floor in front of Gem’s flat. Toni’s eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sleeping. Gem’s phone had rung a few times on the walk home, but since Gem hadn’t answered, Rusty hadn’t known who it was.

He no longer had questions on that front.

Without a word, Rusty pushed gently on Gem’s middle arm as he stepped back into the lift before the doors had shut. Gem watched him, mouth parting but no words spoken. Rusty offered him a small, close-lipped smile and nodded toward his best friend.

“Go,” he whispered, and Gem’s shoulders slumped in what Rusty took to be relief.

A fang nibbled on his bottom lip for a moment, but Gem seemed to come to a decision, shoving several hands between the closing doors, forcing them open as he strode purposefully into the lift.

On instinct, Rusty took a startled step back, but it made no difference.

He was enveloped in six arms, Gem’s face pressing to the nape of his neck .

“Thank you,” Gem murmured, squeezing Rusty so tight he couldn’t quite inhale.

“You’re, uh, welcome,” Rusty wheezed, though he wasn’t sure what Gem was even thanking him for.

Gem’s cheek rubbed against Rusty’s in a gesture too Mammylion to be an Araknis custom.

It reminded Rusty of sitting in his mother’s lap in front of the wood-burning stove as she groomed his fur, the vibration of her purrs settling deep in his bones and lulling him to sleep.

He nearly gasped at the sharp memory, and this time, he couldn’t stop his responding purr.

It rumbled in his throat, and his eyes drifted shut momentarily as he rubbed Gem’s cheek back. Gem emitted his own purr, a low-frequency vibration from his arm and leg fur, and warmth bloomed in Rusty’s chest, spreading out through his extremities until he was hot and tingly all over.

He nearly shivered as Gem pulled away, his top hands framing Rusty’s neck for a moment before his fingers drifted through his fur on their departure.

Rusty blinked his eyes open, bewildered and off-balance, and found Gem beaming down at him.

For one crazy moment, he wanted to reach out and drag his knuckles down Gem’s throat, for no other reason than to leave his scent behind.

Scent-marking was, overall, an outdated and archaic custom—like mate-marking.

Lupyns were, to Rusty’s knowledge, the only species that still actively participated in those types of traditions.

But since Rusty’s gaiz had only ever consisted of him and his mother, it hadn’t felt strange to rub his scent into her neck and for her to do the same.

He’d never felt the urge to mark anyone else; since her death, the notion had been almost repulsive. But now, he had to fist his hands to keep them at his sides, to stop them from stroking Gem’s pulse point, from kneading his scent into Gem’s skin. Because Gem was gaiz now, wasn’t he ?

Rusty didn’t know when it had happened, only that it had , and his entire world was tilting off center.

Completely unaware of the magnitude of the moment, Gem stepped backward off the lift and whispered, “Goodnight, Rusty.”

Rusty swallowed several times, searching for his voice. “Goodnight, Gem,” he finally breathed back, only to realize that the doors had already shut, and he was alone.

Except that wasn’t entirely true anymore, was it? He had a gaiz now, which meant, maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be alone ever again.

Slowly, he reached up and pressed his fingers to his cheek, where Gem had left the scent of cinnamon and coffee beans and something else. Something dark and sweet, like the deepest corners, shrouded in shadow, where only forgotten things hid. And as the lift descended, Rusty smiled.