Grabbing a chair from the table in the adjoining dining space, Gramlithyn set it facing the television and waved his mate toward it. Pyxlevir handed Gramlithyn a brush, comb, and bowl, which caused him to frown. As Pyxlevir had mentioned, it was filled with zebra beads, but that wasn’t what was distressing Gramlithyn. The pattern on the blue-and-purple ceramic was distinctive and belonged to an artist Gramlithyn knew well—his own mother.
“What’s wrong?” Pyxlevir asked.
“I remember being six and asking my mom to make this for you,” Gramlithyn said. “It was the solstice, and your family invited us to D’Vaire. I was determined to get you a gift you’d like, and I thought my mom’s pottery was the best in the world and wanted you to have something she made.”
“You were right, she makes the most gorgeous pieces,” Pyxlevir replied, reaching out and squeezing Gramlithyn’s hand. “Why does that make you sad?”
Gramlithyn leaned down and kissed the top of Pyxlevir’s head. “Because I haven’t fixed anything with my parents yet. A problem for another day. Let’s get your hair done, okay?”
“Okay.”
They shared a smile, then Pyxlevir let go of Gramlithyn so he could get to work. The first step was to undo the current style and remove the beads. Gramlithyn was happy he’d be adding zebra beads. Not only did it make his beast ecstatic, but a lowly bit of silver sparkle in Pyxlevir’s hair was too plain for his extraordinary mate.
“I can’t pretend I know everything about your relationship with your parents,” Colburn said as Gramlithyn slipped apart a plait in Pyxlevir’s silky hair. “But we’ve overheard plenty of conversations through the years, and they’ve asked Crisand me about you. We couldn’t tell them anything since you kept your distance from everyone, but they love you, Gramlithyn. It could be naïve of me, but I think they’ll be happy to learn that Pyx is your other half.”
“Agreed,” Crispin added. “They adore Pyx, and your parents are best friends. We’re all part of the same family. Are you worried they’ll object to it?”
Gramlithyn picked up his beer and took a healthy drink from the bottle before returning to his task. “That’s always been a latent fear. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I was a kid when it happened and my head was all screwed up, but the problem is what came after we learned Fate paired us. They love me, but they expect me to act honorably. To be the person they raised. I wasn’t taught to run away from my troubles, and they sure as fuck aren’t going to approve of me abandoning my mate. I fucked elven tradition in many ways, but that was my worst offense by far. Not one I’m sure anyone but Pyx could truly forgive me for.”
“Personally, I feel you’re being too hard on yourself,” Pyxlevir stated firmly as Gramlithyn plunked beads into the small bowl his mother had fashioned for the elf eighteen years earlier. “I agree with Crispin and Colby. They love you and want what’s best for you. Fate and I both know that our matebond is exactly what you need.”
Gramlithyn couldn’t fight his smile. “Is it now?”
“Absolutely. Once we were brave enough to admit our fears about rejection and all those things that prevented us from moving forward at eighteen, our friendship slid into place again.”
“Plus, you guys get up to all kinds of sexy things too,” Dasan commented with a wild waggle of his eyebrows. “So, Fate obviously knew you’d want to strip each other.”
“Not that I want to argue with anyone on this topic, but the bond made by Fate ensures the parties involved want to get naked and freaky,” Crispin said.
“Important distinction to make,” Gramlithyn remarked, picking up Pyxlevir’s brush and dragging it through his now unbraided and bead-free hair. Stick straight and glossy, the raven strands fell to the middle of Pyxlevir’s back. It was beautiful but—to his delight—left Gramlithyn with no yearning to grow his own. “When your mate finds you, no matter how repulsive you are to the rest of us, he’ll want to tear your clothes off.”
“Be nice,” Pyxlevir chided. “Just because you and I are too elven to be sexually attracted to anyone in this room except one another doesn’t mean that we don’t have the handsomest friend group on the planet.”
“Fine, no one here is ugly, but you’re twice as beautiful as anyone else with a breath in their lungs, so deal with it,” Gramlithyn replied. He opted to divide Pyxlevir’s hair into four equal sections with hair ties, then started his first braid.
“Everyone, ignore Gramlithyn; he’s convinced I’m some supermodel or something.”
Dasan laughed so hard he snorted. “Gram, what did I tell you about Pyx? Dude. Pyxlevir. I’ve never seen anyone as gorgeous as you. Like, is your mirror busted? Look at your face.”
“Okay, let’s take bets,” Colburn said. “I think Dasan’s mate is going to be an elf. Possibly Valzadari.”
“I can’t put money on anything else because I think you’re right,” Gramlithyn replied. He slid the first zebra bead into Pyxlevir’s hair, and his beast snorted with pleasure. Both Gramlithyn and his zebra yearned for the day they could sink their fangs into Pyxlevir’s neck to seal their bond for eternity. For now, they’d settle for striped beads. Gramlithyn had once been convinced Pyxlevir hated the thought of being together, butnothing had prepared him for how quickly and beautifully they’d meshed as a couple.
“Well, I wouldn’t complain if that happened,” Dasan commented. “I’ve been reading about other elves at the library too. It’s safe to say I’m infatuated with them. The coolest tribes are the ones that stand out with unique skin tones. Man, those Mystamre with the pink skin? Gorgeous. The Indrenakas are so striking with their navy complexions. I could make a whole list.”
“Not a long enough one. I know there are other tribes out there who don’t belong to Council because so many of the original tribes are complete asshole racists,” Pyxlevir spat. “Ugh, some of them were so awful to me and Gramlithyn at school.”
“You dealt with it a lot longer than I did,” Gramlithyn said, his fingers moving deftly through Pyxlevir’s hair as he added another plait. “I tattled to my parents after a couple of weeks, and we were yanked out of that school.”
“I’m glad you did. The best part was going to Spectra Academy,” Pyxlevir said. “It was such a cool place, and I loved being around so many races. Too bad we had to wait until we were teenagers to meet these two gargoyle-cougars.”
“Blame our dad,” Colburn mused. “He was convinced the Council wasn’t the right move for us.”
“If he hadn’t met Dordan, we’d probably still be in that tiny house in Washington trying to convince him to at least learn about the Council,” Crispin muttered. “Thank goodness Fate intervened.”
“I wish my stupid eighteen-year-old ass would’ve trusted Fate better,” Gramlithyn said.
“We’ve been over this,” Pyxlevir added softly. “There were choices I could’ve made too. Blame is pointless and detrimental to our future.”
