“What does Italian mean?” I ask, finally brave enough to look stupid in front of my mate.
Marta opens her mouth with a look of disbelief.
“You didn’t know what Italian meant?”
“Well no, obviously, that’s why I’m asking,” I tell, her only a little bit miffed at her reaction.
“Um, oh god. Italians are like a type of human, from a specific place, Italy.”
“So, it’s just a heritage? Italians aren’t warriors?”
“I mean, I guess you could say that.” She arches an eyebrow at my inference about her people. “We do have a tendency to stick together, especially in America where I live. When Italians immigrated, they weren’t very well liked by the established populations. So, we banded together and relied on each other. I think our community is stronger for that today. Granted, my father isn’t the best example of an upstanding citizen—I know he tried his best. I hope he’s doing okay without me.” She drifts deeper into sadness at the mention of her father.
“I’m sorry that the Deenz took you from your planet, I really am—but I’m glad I got to meet you.”
She sighs as I speak, forcing a mournful little smile.
Could she ever truly be happy here, without her people or her culture? I don’t even know what Christmas is—my data pad only shows me a fat old man in a red suit in some kind of spaceship pulled by flying livestock. We definitely don’t have that on Sontafrul 6.
“Raf’ere?”
“What?”
“Do you really think I’m your mate?” she says in a near whisper.
She knows, Tri'ot must have told her.
This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, none of this is right. I wanted to tell her about the bond and give her a choice to stay or leave. I wanted to be fair to her, to give her a fighting chance at the life she wanted.
But most of all, I wanted Marta to choose me.
Nubbins, sensing my distress, nudges at my shin. I shoo him away.
“What do you want?” I ask her, not wanting the mate bond to sway her. She can’t feel it, so it should be my burden to shoulder alone. I can at least protect her from that.
“I—I don’t know Raf’ere. The only thing I wanted when I first got here was to go home, but things are complicated now.” She gives me a knowing glance.
I am a complication. I make everything worse.
I’m the monster everyone thinks I am.
“You should be with your kind, you miss them,” I say numbly.
I don’t want to do it, but I can’t keep choosing what’s rightfor me…I need to choose what’s bestfor her. It’s what a good mate would do.
“Raf’ere, answer me. Am I your mate?”
When I don’t answer her the silence between us is tangible. I can’t let my burden be the reason she stays. Standing, I try my best to regain my composure. I don’t know how I’ll be able to survive if I lose her, but my survival isn’t the most important thing anymore. Her thriving is.
I have to do what’s best for Marta.
“Raf’ere! Tell me…what do you want, what am I to you? Am I your mate?” She pleads with me. She wrenches her hands in her lap.
“Am I yours?” I ask her softly.
“I, I don’t know…” Marta bites her lip, turning away from me.
There is it, that coldness creeping in from the darkest parts of my soul—it protects me from the crushing sadness I should feel right now.
