“My head hurts.”
“You did drink far too much.”
“I had fun.”
Another kiss alighted on my head. “That pleases me.”
I smiled. I’d never had someone who was happy simply because I was, who enjoyed my enjoyment, who wanted me to have fun even if it didn’t include them.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“Don’t move.”
“Ah, Peace, I’m more than happy to stay right here.”
Closing my eyes, I sprawled on his chest. I rose and fell with the movement of his even breaths and listened to the vibration of his soul. The more I focused on his pulse, the more I realized something. My soul was beating in perfect time with his. It didn’tmake any sense. Our pulses should in no way be synced, and yet they were. Somehow.
As if… I swallowed at the leading thought, not wanting to finish it, but unable to stop it. As if we were made for each other. As if we were soulmates. As if I was meant to be right here in this moment with Monqilcolnen. As if we were supposed to walk beside one another for the rest of our lives.
I didn’t believe Wyn was asleep, but he seemed content enough to lie on my chest and let his fingers wander over my scales. Every so often a light kiss would press to the scales right above my soul.
Much like we had in our experience, part of me wished to gift my soul scales to Wyn. I wished to rip part of me off and offer it to my mate. To tell him he was all I wanted in this life. That I trusted him to protect me, to guard my soul. But I didn’t think Wyn would appreciate it, nor did I wish him to feel indebted to do the same. Even imagining Wyn in pain and vulnerable like that was far too much for me.
A growl started to form low in my gut, making me vibrate a tad. Wyn glanced up at me, his eyebrows drawing together. I smoothed them apart with my thumb, and he kissed the pad of the digit.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I kept my voice low so as to not cause him any pain in his post-drunken state.
“You didn’t.” He slid a bit closer, and my throat caught. I wanted Wyn’s lips on mine, but he stopped before I could capture his mouth. Wyn said, “Why did you growl? And why do you always swallow it?”
My fingers tangled in his silky hair. “I growled because my mind conjured the image of you in pain.”
Wyn nipped my wrist closest to him.
“I suppress it like all my other outward emotions.”
“Why?” he asked, his tail curling around my arm.
“I need to be perfect,” I confessed.
“Why?”
That word was the favorite of all seekers. They had to discover everything with their insatiable curiosity; Wyn was no different. I replied, “Because I did not join the Ranks.”
Wyn growled, and I blinked. He prowled closer to me with narrowed eyes, claiming my chin in a firm grasp that made my cock wake up and take notice. I liked aggressive Wyn far more than I would’ve thought. My mind formed a much more pleasant image this time. My mate wearing a tantalizing leather harness as he forced my legs apart and claimed me while holding my throat with his hand. I swallowed at the sudden wave of lust. I not only wanted to dominate Wyn; I also wished to be dominated by him. Maybe even more so.
“Monqilcolnen,” Wyn snapped, drawing my focus back to where it should’ve been all along. He didn’t loosen his hold as he continued in a low voice lined with feral intensity, “You are not perfect, nor should you try to be. You may hold the purest spiritual soul, but you do not have to be anything else besides you.”
“I do, though,” I whispered.
Wyn lifted my chin and pressed a firm kiss to my lips. I moaned, but he didn’t allow me to deepen it. “You do not.”
“I defied expectations,” I confessed. “I was slated for the Ranks as soon as my soul was known, like almost all other spiritual souls. We are rare, Wyn. So rare. I didn’t follow the call of my soul.”
“Yes, you did, Star.”
My eyes fell closed at the endearment.
His fingers lovingly, if I dared allow myself to think, stroked my cheek. “You did follow your soul. You want this. I know you do. You love space, Monqilcolnen. You followed your soul, even when it didn’t lead where others thought it would. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to prove anything. You don’t have to care about people’s expectations.”
