“He sees it as a weakness, which it’s not.”
“I don’t understand why he cares.”
“Urgg doesn’t either. It’s hard to explain how much we believe in the Crystal and soul types. They have been the center of our existence for a very long time. They define us, but in more recent cycles, I’ve taken a modest belief. Soul types are glimpses meant to act as guides, nothing more. But many don’t agree with me. They see it as who we are and all we can be.”
“Why does he even care? So he’s creative? Great. I love his paintings.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” When she didn’t say anything more, I asked, “Is that all I’m going to get?”
“Do you know how long it’s been since he painted?”
“No.”
“Over a cycle at least. He feels ashamed every time he does. Vyn stocks his quarters with art supplies, but he ignores them. Whenever he does give in to the desire, he lashes out.”
“Why?”
“I cannot answer that.”
“Fair enough.” I peered around, trying to see through the swell of people.
“What are you searching for?”
“A shop that sells art supplies.”
“Are you going to buy them for your mate?”
“Yeah.” He shouldn’t feel bad about something that brings him joy.
“That way,” she said, pointing.
“How goes your mating?” Pimtimzol asked, planting wrinkly brown seeds.
I sat on the ground next to him in a cargo bay, not the atrium for once. The nearby shipping crates were full of pots and soil.
“Better.” Thoughts of the many kisses we’d shared surged up, making a sudden need flood me. When my cock twitched, I repositioned and forced my thoughts to something else, like theconversations we’d been having. The glaringly absent one was my past. He needed to know. If he chose to be with me, as I hoped he would, my past could affect him.
“Has he decided to stay?”
“No.”
Pimtimzol smoothed the dirt before shifting to an empty pot.
“He’s not done deciding. He’s going to choose me,” I lied. Seth very well might not. We were over halfway home; I didn’t have much time left.
Hope burned within me, painful yet comforting at the same time. Hope meant Seth was here with me and the chance of him staying remained. If this painful hope disappeared, it would be replaced by the agony of his absence, which I could not endure.
When I stepped into me and mine’s quarters, I faltered. Seth was sprawled on the couch, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but the painting supplies were. The very sight of them made my muscles tense, and light began to pool beneath my scales. I wanted to flee, yet Seth was here and he made me want to step forward.
Seth sat up and held out his arms. I needed no more invitation than that.
I pressed against him, and Seth snuggled me close. “Hey, Babe.”
I nuzzled the top of his head, scent marking him, and his hair tickled my nose. “What’s this?” I asked, glancing at the easel.
“I assume you don’t mean the hug.”
