“So… we’re on the same page. This is the crossroads.”
“Like I said, Andromeda. It’s your choice.”
I frown, plucking a velvety flower petal to rub between my fingers. “It’s weird. Being scared hasneverstopped me before. It barely makes me hesitate. But this is… different.”
Sylvus is quiet for a long moment. Then, he says, “Pleasure can often be much more terrifying than pain.”
The words resonate with something deep in me. In that quiet, unexpected moment, a shell cracks. Words tumble out of my mouth.
“If I love you, then I can lose you. And if I lose you, I think I’ll break forever.”
His warmth surrounds me. “I’m here, Andromeda. I will always be here.”
I can’t hold back the tears anymore. He presses my cheek to his neck as I sob, letting twenty years of fear finally pour out of my body.
It’s why I always kept others at a distance. Why I kept changing lives and identities whenever anybody got too close. Why my ultimate dream was solitude.
Never again, I swore to myself. I’ll never be that vulnerable again.
My ugly wails don’t dissuade Sylvus in the slightest. He just grips me tighter.
Something silky soft glides over my skin, grounding me, helping my breath slow and deepen. Finally, I lean back and wipe my face on the silk Sylvus offers me.
A soft texture glides along my hip: a furry joint of his leg.
He notices me noticing. “Sorry if that’s… disturbing.”
I make a little stuffy-nosed laugh. “It’s cute. I like it.”
I reach out, and he hesitantly offers his leg to me. I slide my hands along the smooth, strong chitin, then bury my cheek inhis fur. It’s softer than the finest mink, the fluffiest rabbit, the most advanced synthetic.
My hands continue down his leg until I reach his foot, that little paw with two clawed toes. I run my thumbs over the pads. “Look at these little beans!”
“Stop that,” Sylvus huffs, tugging his foot back. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”
He’s blushing brightly, staring at the ground.
I laugh and grab his cheeks, making him look at me. “I’m not making fun of you. You’re adorable.”
His cheeks warm under my palms. “Any sane person knows I don’t have any proximity to that adjective.”
I squeeze his cheeks and gently tug them. “Whatever you say.”
When I release him and snuggle against his chest, he presses a hand to where my fingers just were.
I smirk to myself as he gathers his composure.
“Here,” I say, squirming to get down. “Sit like this.”
He lets me down to the springy wildflowers again, and I go perch on the little rise. I point next to me, and though his expression is wary, he dutifully hunkers down like he did before.
“Okay, now scoot closer.”
He does, until we sit side by side, and I rest my head against his chest and loop my arm around his waist.
We click together like two puzzle pieces always meant to fit as we stare out at the beauty of Zairion Prime.
I take a deep breath, holding the thought in my mind to be sure I’m secure in my conviction. There’s a flutter of anxiety, but it feels… possible. Exciting.
