Holly began leading Carl away. I watched them go. Carla looked in my direction, her brown eyes meeting mine before she turned back.
In that brief glance, I saw confusion and a touch of something that might be regret.
“She’s a good woman,” Ruugar said, watching them too.
“Yes. She is.”
“And you care for her.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “I couldn’t help it. She’s leaving after Christmas, though. When her contract ends, she has no reason to stay.”
Ruugar slowly nodded. “Perhaps you should give her one.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” He turned to face me. “You’ve been existing since you came to the surface, not living. Everyone can see it. But today, you seem different. You care.”
“I’m the same as always.”
“No, you’re not. There’s something in your eyes that wasn’t there before.” He paused, then added carefully, “It was there before Wexla died.”
The observation hit hard. “Wexla was my mate.”
“And now she’s gone. Life is for living, Becken. Grieve her. No way you can do anything else. But remember that while she’s gone, you’re here. So’s Carla.”
“I’m aware of that.” The words came out sharp.
“Are you? It looks to me like you’re using her memory as an excuse to avoid taking a chance with someone new.”
Before I could respond, he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the mark on my wrist.
I busied myself with the sorhoxes, checking each one and making sure they had adequate food and water. The familiar routine helped calm my racing thoughts.
As evening approached, I stood at the window of my small hotel room, looking out at the town below, the same street Carla must see from her own window. Christmas lights twinkled on every building, and people walked through town, pausing to look into the general store or chat with others. Normal people, living normal lives, without golden marks binding them to a person who might leave them soon.
Carla had every right to be afraid of this. Loving someone meant risking loss, and we’d both learned how devastating that could be. But the mark wasn’t only about love. It was about recognition, about finding the piece of yourself you didn’t know you were missing.
With Wexla, I’d chosen companionship, comfort, and shared goals. With Carla, I felt something wilder, more desperate. The need to protect her, to make her laugh, to watch her face light up when she discovered something new about this special town in this nowhere part of the surface.
I ached to taste her again, to hear her gasp my name as she came apart from my touch. But wanting something and being able to keep it were two different things.
I touched the mark on my wrist. Tomorrow, we’d have to face each other again, maybe even pretend nothing had changed while dealing with the reality of what we’d become.
Fated mates with no future.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. After months of existing in the gray fog of grief, I’d finally found a person who could bring me back to life.
And she was planning to leave the day after Christmas.
Chapter 13
Carla
Since it was the weekend, I lounged in my hotel room for a couple of days, doted on by Holly and Max. I kept thinking of what happened between Becken and me. And I kept coming to no solution other than me leaving as planned. I’d worked for ten years to get where I was. I’d be foolish to throw that away now.
Monday arrived with all the subtlety of a sorhox stampede. I stared at my reflection in the hotel room mirror, practicing professional expressions while the golden mark on my wrist seemed to mock every attempt at normalcy. How was I supposed to face Becken and pretend nothing was different when we were more or less, sorta married?
Okay, not married.Mated.
