Hisseverely scarredbroad chest.
Hisseverely scarredbroad chest withvery unclear skin-stars. Like… they’re not even really there. I squint at the area as if that would make them reveal themselves to me again. “I’m not sure we should be telling anyone about this…” I say, tentatively waving my palm in the general direction of his chest.
That big, broad chest of his seems to deflate a little in the dark. “Why not?” Zyn asks, his tail flicking violently once one way and then once the other.
“It’s just… we don’t know if they’re really there.”
“We know.”
This time, I’m squinting up at his face, not his chest, and even though the pitch black of night is threatening to swallow the village up in darkness very soon, I can still clearly see his features. In fact, the shadows do nothing but emphasize his sharp cheekbones and slightly crooked nose. “We don’t know anything for sure, Zyntarr,” I start. “What if-”
My words die on my tongue when I feel something soft brush the back of my legs and curl around to gently stroke at my shins. His tail. “What ifwhat,little Bea? You saw them earlier. You will see them again.”
I shake my head. “I’d like to know for certain before we… do anything.”
Zyntarr goes very still, in fact, the only thing that moves is the slow rise of one brow - the one over his good eye.
“Before we make it official,” I add, before he starts to get any ideas.
There’s a moment there where he just stares, and stares. That one, piercing blue eye trying to dig deep and witness every corner, crevice and secret nook of my soul. Can he see that part of me that I’ve caged away? Can he see why I have to be certain?
No, of course he doesn’t. For him to see, I’ll have to explain. And for me to explain, I’ll have to remember, when all I want to do is forget.
“Um…” I twist the hem of my well-worn PJ top in both my hands while averting my gaze from his penetrating one. “Thank you for what you did today.” It’s a means to change the subject, but it’s also something I have to say. I’ve not thanked him yet, and I want him to know that I appreciate his actions. I appreciatehim.
A gentle finger hooks beneath my chin, bringing my gaze back up to him. His frame is so big and imposing, my head has totilt upward to look him in the eye again. “I did many things this day, little Bea. None of them needed thanks,” he pauses, his gaze dipping to where he can’t seem to help but softly wipe the pad of his rough thumb over my bottom lip. “All of them were so that I might one day be worthy of my mate.”
Something hot quivers low in my belly at that. If this was a rom-com or an action movie, this would be when the hero bends to kiss the heroine. I used to love those types of movies. I remember people complaining about the formulaic nature of them - about how you could tell which characters were going to ‘get the girl’, which guys were obviously the ‘bad guys’ and the predictability of it all. But I’d never seen the problem with all of that. In fact, I’d taken comfort in the formulas those plots had used. Everyone knew what was about to happen, but we still enjoyed watching actors perform their parts again and again.
But this isn’t a movie, and Zyn and I aren’t actors. This is real.
I think that’s why I always liked the idea of the heart-stars. It’s like the director of the movie is giving the leads their cue instead of everyone just ad-libbing and improvisating. If we stuck to the plot, everything would run smoothly and no one would get hurt.
Except, when I study Zyntarr’s features in the dim of the evening, I think my hesitancy ishurtinghim.I might one day be worthy of my mate.This means so much to him - so much to all the Trixikka really, and he’s the last person I would ever want to hurt.
But if we get this wrong - if Iimaginedthose bright heart-stars…
If ‘the director’ decides that we’re meant for other people and rewrites the script, introduces a new cast…
It doesn’t bear thinking about.
“I meant when you helped me calm down from the panic attack,” I say quietly, my voice a little unsteady. “I really needed someone to ground me and stop the spiral, and you did that for me, Zyn. Thank you.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t accept my thanks, nor bat them away. It’s like he’s… waiting. Waiting for me to decide where this conversation is going. Which is… unsettling. I don’t enjoy leading situations like this.
Then my gaze drops to how his huge, scarred chest is steadily rising and falling with each breath. And I get the beginning of an idea.
“Maybe… maybe we could try to encourage your heart-stars to shine like how I thought I saw them before? Do you think they might?”
“They will, for you,” he grunts in return.
So certain.
I envy him that.
I take a breath. “Maybe, starting tomorrow, we can purposely spend more time together? The full day if possible. And maybe-… maybe I could tell you why I had that panic attack.” My eyes slide down to his barely-there heart-stars again. “And hopefully, the more we really get to know each other, everything will become clearer.”
Chapter 7 - Zyntarr
