He tilted his head slightly. “That sounds like a compliment.”
“It is,” I murmured. “And that’s what’s scary.”
He didn’t answer, just leaned in a little more, until our shoulders touched. The contact was featherlight, and yet it sent a ripple through me so fierce I almost swayed. He turned his gaze to the horizon, his expression unreadable, but his presence pressed against mine with silent reassurance.
“I don’t want to scare you,” he said finally. His voice sounded rougher at the edges. “I just want to be near you. For as long as you’ll let me.”
Something in me cracked open at his words. Not shattered. Opened.
I didn’t know how to hold back what I was feeling. The longing. The fear. The impossibility of it all.
“I want that too,” I whispered, barely trusting myself to say it. “I just… I don’t know where to put these feelings. They’re too big for me right now.”
“You don’t have to put them anywhere,” he said gently. “Let them grow where they will. I’ll be here.”
I turned to face him, fully this time, and the space between us narrowed into something electric. My gaze dropped to his mouth, then back to his eyes, making me wonder, what would it feel like to be kissed by a male like him?
He leaned in slowly, giving me time. Giving me a choice. The kind of patience only born from lifelong discipline. I stood my ground, holding his gaze, holding my breath, lettingithappen.
He came closer, so close I could feel the whisper of his breath against my lips and the brush of stubble along my cheek, and I closed my eyes just as his mouth met mine.
The kiss was slow, as though he was touching something sacred. His lips moved against mine with quiet reverence, like every second had been earned through grief, through silence, through the ache of time itself. His hand lifted to cup my face, calloused fingers brushed my jaw, anchoring me. I melted into him, into the warmth of his touch, the solidity of his chest, the quiet promise behind every press of his lips.
He tasted like honey and wild wind and something older than the stars. After a moment of absorbing the sensations rushing through me, I kissed him back. Just like I had read in my mother's romance books. Inexperienced, a little hesitant, but ready to explore whatever he was offering.
Gently, he nudged my lips apart, the tip of his tongue feathered past my teeth, entered my mouth, and found my tongue. The moment they met, heat rushed through me, and I felt like I was melting into him. Automatically, my hands moved up, fisted his shirt, as if I were afraid he would pull back, and I couldn't let that happen. One of his hands was still on my cheek, the other buried in my hair. A moan moved through his chest, felt by my fingertips. Heat spread through my belly, creating the most fascinating sensations inside me. My blood didn't just rush through my veins; it felt like it was bubbling. Something happened in my core, too. An ache began to grow deep inside me, moving down my pussy with a liquidy thickness, drenching my panties.Thiswas what I had read about.Thiswas whathappened to the heroines inthosebooks. But they had beenwrong. This was so much more, so much more powerful, so frightening and exhilarating.
When we finally pulled apart, neither of us moved far. Our foreheads touched, and my hands were still holding on to his shirt, where I could feel the hard pounding of his heart. Slowly, I opened my eyes to the sight of the deepest obsidian I had ever seen. They seemed to glow with an intensity, a want, aneedthat should have scared me. But it didn't.
Time unraveled in that moment, like a fast-forward. I saw us walking afternoons, at dusk, at night. I saw Mallack teach me about nictas, watched us as he tried to take my fear away. I saw us with my mother, walking in a market, hand in hand. Moments slipped like threads through my fingers until I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. I floated through shadows and light, days bleeding into nights, stars flickering like lanterns above me. And then, he was there again. Not by the river, but in a hidden grove bathed in moonlight, the air was filled with the scent of sweet blossoms. His lips found mine once more, softer this time, lingering, like we had all the time in the world. Another kiss, then another, each one an anchor pulling me back from the dream even as I drifted deeper into it.
"Daphne," he said. My name sounded like a prayer from his lips. "Daphne. Querilly."
I knew what a querilly was. A soulmate. It was an unbreakable bond between Leanders. I wasn't a Leander, but the gods help me, I felt it too. I had been born on this planet, had never known anything else, and neither had my mother. Did that mean that the bond could be formed between a Leander and a human?
It sure felt like it, because what I felt for this male was more than love. At least more than what I knew about it, which came back down to… books. But in that moment, I knew I would die for him. I would die if he left me. That was another thought that should have frightened me, but it didn't.
“Daphne,” he said, in a raw with emotion voice that trembled at the edges. “I love you. I love you so deeply, it feels like a wound that never truly heals. An ache carved into my soul.”
He stepped closer, his eyes burned into mine, dark and endless and open in a way I’d never seen before.
“When you’re not with me, something in me splinters. Even a few hours apart feels like a lifetime. I try to breathe, but it’s like my lungs refuse to work without your presence beside me.”
He reached for my hand, brought it to his chest, holding it over his heart as if it were the most sacred thing he’d ever touched. Everything inside me fluttered, like I was a live wire, ready to ignite. “You are my calm and my storm. My past, my future, and everything in between. I need you, Daphne. I need you with me at all times."
His voice dropped, and my heart surged, “Will you be my mate?”
A shadow moved across his features while he was saying those words. I would have almost called it insecurity, but that couldn't be. Not from my big, strong vissigroth.
I didn't need to think about an answer; it was as if my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul had known it from the moment I saw him riding into our city.
"Oh, Mallack," I could hardly believe that he had asked me. Me! "I love you too. Zyn."
"Zyn?" he checked, and this time the insecurity was clearly written on his face.
"Zyn," I laughed, moving my arms from his chest to wrap around his neck. "A hundred times, zyn!"
His hands grabbed my waist, and he swung me in a circle.
