After a long, drawn-out wait, I’m convinced Rathyn is going to ignore my question. He lets out a heavy breath. “He is…” He goes quiet, and I can feel the prickle of his thoughts. He’s thinking. “I suppose a human equivalent would be a prince.”
I lift off his chest and turn to look at him. “Aprince?”
“He will rule the Vyastil when he comes of age.”
“Oh my god. That fucking guy? That smarmy, creepy asshole?”
Rathyn huffs something like a laugh and shrugs. “He is…not well liked.”
“Yeah. I can see why.”
His eyes glint and his ears flick. He’s happy I’m saying this. Did he think I was going to pop a boner for some jackass just because he’s a prince?
“His brothers are not as unpleasant as him.”
I frown. “I thought you didn’t have brothers. I thought it was just, like, a random egg situation.”
“Not every Vyastil will know their parents. Some do. High-ranking officials rear their own offspring.”
“So, like, the royal family?”
“Yes. And the…” He pauses and searches for an English word. “The admiral of our military.”
“Will I meet that guy?”
He gives me a look. “You have met him, my Everest.” When I frown, he huffs. “Eissa.”
I almost choke on my tongue. “Hold up. Hold…hold up.” I shake my head. “Eissa. Like, the really fucking nice guy who observed my whole…monster-dick-suck test thing? Who helped us with our contract?”
He makes an odd noise in the back of his throat. “I was unaware he did that for you until we sat down to sign our companion contract. That is not usual.”
I should fucking think not. I file that away for later because it’s weird. “How is that dude the leader of a military? He’s a marshmallow.”
“I do not know this word.”
“Soft. Squishy. Nice?”
He gives a trilling hum. “He is more than he seems, my Everest. But he’s a good leader. Fair and just. He is very well-respected.”
Biting my lip, I lie back against him. “And you. I know you said you’re not a breeder but…um…” I fucking hate the thought that he might want to fuck a Vyastil woman for an egg. I have no claim, but dear god…
“I will not procreate,” he murmurs, holding me tight. “Even if I should be asked to rear a Vyastil child, the egg will not be genetically mine.”
I sink against him and breathe in his scent. I don’t know why I needed to hear that. I don’t know why I needed to feel settled.
I let myself think about Rathyn and a baby—though I don’t think Vyastil are ever babies. Not like humans are. But what kind of dad would he be?
Jesus Christ, I don’t need to go there.
Turning in his arms, I kiss him, and he kisses me back—slow, steady, deep. With purpose.
“Sorry, today got weird,” I tell him. “If you want to go back…”
“I wish to show you something,” he murmurs. “Will you come?”
I smile at the double entendre, but I don’t mention it. Instead, I slide off his body and wait for him to stand. “What is it?”
“A…” He searches for a word. “Surprise. Do you trust me?”
