He moves onto his back and stares at the ceiling. His quiet lasts so long I start to wonder if he’s going to answer. “It’s not something to burden yourself with,” he finally says, his voice low. “I know you didn’t choose it.”
“Choose what, exactly?” I ask, wishing he’d turn back so I could read his expression better. He’s hiding from me, which only makes me more anxious.
“My world is different than yours,” he starts.
“Well, yeah,duh.” I roll my eyes, then flinch, worrying he’ll mistake sarcasm for being cruel. It’s happened before. In the past, I’ve had people, boyfriends, take offense when I didn’t mean it that way.
Instead, he laughs, a dark husky chuckle that slips through the dark and brushes over my body like fingertips. That sound alone quickens my pulse, sets off dangerous reactions inside my body. Heat blooms beneath my skin in a way that feels suspiciously like anticipation.
Sorren’s head whips my way, and his nostrils flare.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, warmth on my cheeks. Mostly for the sarcasm. But also for…whatever that was. The way my body reacted to the sound of his laugh.
I don’t know if he would want that. He’s shown hardly any interest beyond the bite.
“Different how?” I prod, forcing my voice steady. “Your world?”
His gaze lingers on me before he looks away.
“In my land, we have a mate that’s determined before we’re born. We are taught that the great Eldryn chooses for us—”
“Eldryn is like your version of God, right?” I interrupt.
“Yes. You have many names for the same idea. God. Buddha. Allah. A being who sees all and knows all. Who you can talk to but doesn’t speak back.” He shifts, settles deeper into the mattress, his face still directed at the space above him.
“Whatever force you believe guides the world,” he continues. A minute like he’s thinking, then he finishes with one word. “Fate.” He looks over at me. “Maybe that’s the best, most universal way to explain it.”
“And this…mate thing?” I ask, still absorbing what he said. “It’s like marriage?”
“It is not a ceremony,” he says. “It is not a contract that may be broken. It is…recognition. When we find the one chosen for us, something in us knows. The bond forms. It is meant to ensure we do not waste time. That we do not turn elsewhere.”
“What happens?” I ask, trying to sound curious instead of suddenly very invested. “You just meet them and that’s it?”
Sorren hesitates.
“If both parties accept the bond,” he says slowly, “it deepens. Strengthens. It becomes…difficult to ignore.”
My mouth goes dry.
“And if they don’t?” I ask.
His gaze flicks back to mine, sharp and unreadable in the dim light.
“Then it remains,” he says. “Quiet. Unfulfilled.”
The air between us feels heavier somehow. A sense of deep sorrow lingers, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.
“So,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “you’ve…had this happen before?”
“No.”
Why am I so relieved to hear that single word?
“There is only one mate for each of us,” he says. “One who was born for us and us for them.”
“Oh.”
I don’t have any other word for something that big.
