Chapter 23
Now down to the details.
Monqilcolnen was sitting so close, and he smelled so good. It was a musky, tangy scent I wanted to rub all over myself. We should be talking about permissions, but all I could do was stare at him as I uncurled and curled my hands on my thighs. It was a struggle to keep myself from attacking him. He appeared to be having the same problem, because his chest was heaving as he was panting.
“We should—” I broke off because his eyes darted down to my lips. “Monqilcolnen,” I whispered, breathless.
“None of that, or I will not be able to have a civilized conversation, which we need to do first.”
I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself, but all it did was flood my lungs with his intoxicating scent. “What do you want?”
“You,” he replied, and I groaned.
“This is not working well.”
He laughed, and it twisted my insides to knots. “You’re right.”
Monqilcolnen scooted away from me, and I growled. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop moving until he was almost across the cargo bay from me. It was much too far, though I started to think clearer with him not right beside me.
I wanted Monqilcolnen with almost a feral intensity that surprised and scared me. I knew where this path was leading. Either I would walk it to completion or I needed to turn around now. This was a choice that must be made before either of us was injured.
Also, Monqilcolnen was from a much higher class than I. Technically, the class system had been abolished long ago, but it was etched into our culture. We were still subject to it. Monqilcolnen and I would never escape the looks and whispers. Was being by his side worth such a life?
Monqilcolnen cocked his head, sending his starlight hair over his broad shoulders. His eyebrows drew together as worry plucked in the depths of his eyes.
I knew my answer, and I did not even have to think on it very long or hard.
“I want you as well.”
“How?” he asked, his voice rising into a teasing lilt. “You’re unreadable.”
I chuckled, ducking my head. “I want you. Your friendship. Your body. Your everything. I wish to court you.”
He took a huge gulping breath, his tail thrashing. “Thank you. I want that as well.”
This was a step toward permanence—one we were taking together.
“What do you want right now? How do you wish to be touched?” he asked.
“Well, that depends on if we’re fucking or not.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I generally only like being touched when I’m fucking or leading up to it. Other than that, I’m not very physically affectionate. And I don’t usually stay after I’m done.”
His expression dropped, but the disappointment vanished quickly under his serene mask. However, I knew what I’d seen. He couldn’t hide from me anymore than I could from him.
“You are different, aren’t you?” I asked. Most people were. I was unsure of where my touch aversion came from, but I’d never liked it, even as a child. It wasn’t as if my caretakers had harmed me—they had been kind and loving—I simply didn’t enjoy being touched.
“I am,” Monqilcolnen said carefully. “I’m exceedingly physically affectionate. I like to snuggle, and hug, and kiss when there’s no fucking involved.”
“We are not going to work, are we?”
“We are,” he replied. “I’ll simply adjust.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I want you, Wyn. I need you,” he said, practically growling, and my soul trembled. “Please let us try, at least.”
