“She may be my host, but being a member of your clan is very important to me. You are a part of her. Therefore you matter.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Selena
A gentle ocean breeze blew past me, caressing my body like one of my mates whispering sweet nothings to me. The familiar pair of suns engulfed me with their sunlight, embracing me with their warmth as they welcomed me home back where I belong—in my villa.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky; it was as if Destima knew that I was finally home. It excited me that I would be able to enjoy myself with my clan for the first time since we were apart—all within my villa’s private backyard.
Where my master bedroom used to be, sat a larger dome with tinted glass, so outside prying eyes couldn’t peer within. The dome had grown so large that it now took up the whole grassy space that used to sit between my old master bedroom and the pavilion that overlooked the cliffside.
It was as if my new nestroom turned the pavilion into a backyard porch, in place of where the waterfall sat in the original design up the mountain.
I would miss the memories that happened within my first master bedroom, but with the extended size—and growing needs—of my clan, it was essential.
My nestmates’ needs came first.
It was vital to me to make sure all of their desires were met—and that none of them felt neglected, especially after that happened.
While I am happy that my princes were almost completely healed—with the assistance of Vowel’s nightly treatment—I knew it would be a long journey until my Favored were restored to their original state.
It was vital for me to remind them that I loved them for them. It didn’t matter if they lacked their extra appendages because it’s what was inside that counts. Their actions at times that I needed them most were the most telling part of them. It was their kindness and devotion to me that attracted me to them—even though their appearance enticed me.
Even if they never grew what they had lost, I would still love them the same because I knew they would do the same in return.
Lying on my cushioned lawn chair, I glanced over to where my mental threads led, to where my Ulax mates were soaking in the sun, enjoying themselves as they bathed in our private pool’s water.
I didn’t miss how V’dim purposely kept his tentacles coiled around his body in the Circuli default state in hopes of making his clanbrother feel less self-conscious about his situation. It touched me how he was looking out for Odelm, ensuring that he was comfortable and wasn’t trying to show off his healing progress unintentionally.
Beside the pool, my Wudox nestmates stood within the luscious grass as they took in the nutrients from all around them through their feet.
It never ceased to amaze me how my Circuli mates absorb nutrients from nature, whether from the water or earth itself. I had often wondered if they were capable of surviving without eating and just by the land alone.
Perhaps their ancestors had done so.
Xylo had mentioned how the Ulax and Wudox shared the same ancestor, which was why they had many similarities—yet the way they had evolved on either land or water created enough differences to make them different species. Thus, even though a nestqueen could take any Circuli into their clan’s web, they were only capable of reproducing with her nestmates, who were the same species as her.
They had united under the same name—Circuli—deprived of their ancestor species’ name when they stopped their civil war. When they joined the CEG, they renamed their home planet Circul to show a united front when they presented themselves to the galactic government—and once they were granted membership, they had isolated themselves.
Their queens made sure their citizens wouldn’t have any excuse to discover a better place to live—because if there wasn’t a royal strong enough to hold a mental web, there couldn’t be an outpost colony. It was a grander scale of the males’ dependence on their nestqueens, which I had recently learned about firsthand.
Checking my mating threads, I didn’t pick up any remnants of discontentment. On the contrary, they were all relishing the feeling of being outside for the first time in a long time and connecting to the elements around them. It was as if they were at peace with themselves.
The gentle hum from the moon’s mental web felt like I was at the space station’s nightclub, only soft enough I could easily ignore and a constant reminder that I now govern them.
They were mine now.
While I could probably potentially shield myself from them, I didn’t want to. They were now my responsibility, my burden to hold—I would only use such measures in a state of an emergency to prevent a moon-wide panic.
Even though they were my wardens, I shielded my nestmates from them to ensure we had the privacy we deserved while they healed. It was already hard enough for them to cope with what had happened.
I hadn’t felt the need to shield myself from my nestmates completely, nor did I want to after being away from them for so long. Their constant presence was needed—it was a gentle reminder that they were still here, with me, and well—no matter their current health status.
Perhaps it was a fear of what would happen if I shielded them, if they would revert to their panicked selves, believing they were slowly dying and soon the cosmic embrace would welcome them.
That was something that neither of us needed.
I loved my mates dearly—and if I could take away any pain or doubt that they felt because of the experience that the Stars had dealt us, I would because they’d stayed beside me all of this time. So it was only suitable for me to stick beside them in the darkest moments of their lives.
