Page 30 of Bred By Sor'en

“No,” I answer. “A Nysharil thing, but regardless, I can't take it off.”

They seem to talk among themselves for a moment. Their words hushed as they figure out what to do. My eyes slide to the doorway, opening and ready. Trying to remember the way out of the maze-like building. I hadn’t paid attention. Why didn’t I pay attention?

Stupid Hue, stupid, stupid, stupid hu—

One of them breaks off, heading rushed for the doorway. My heart stills in my chest, for a moment, I'm sure she’s going to lock it, sealing me inside. My gut churns until she breezes right past it into the hall, softly calling out for someone nearby.

I flinch when the leader, a female I think might be called Me’alma, appears in front of me. “We’ll have to have your specialtooth blessed. All your other garments were prepared by your mate when he arrived, but—"

My eyes dip toward the long, sheer veil and equally as sheer dress hanging by the steaming pool. “He blessed them?”

“Yes, of course. He would trust no one else with such a task. But he cannot handle the necklace currently. We have another coming now.”

“Why not?” I don’t think I hide the unjustified hurt in my voice well because she stares above my head before reaching out to swish her hand through the empty space in an odd, calming gesture.

“He is—"

“Fucking,” Lyr’ael cuts in, and my stomach drops down to my feet.

“What?” I breathe.

“He is in a state of deep exactment,” she offers, and all the breath whooshes out of me as I backtrack, sitting on the raised edge of the pool. My bare ass pressing against cool stone while I try to pry my stomach off the floor. She continues, but her words seem very far away. “He delayed your bonding too long. He cannot master his emotions well. Having his unbonded mate so far away in such circumstances is a very unbalancing event.”

“He’s upset,” I offer, horribly liking that far more than fucking. “Did he change forms again?” I ask.

Which is apparently a very taboo thing to do. Lyr’ael slaps her palms over her mouth, hiding a giggle as the other females in the room repeat the odd gesture above their own heads.

Before I can open my mouth to apologize, sending a telepathic sorry to Sor’en for whatever embarrassment I just likely caused him, the male from last night appears in front of me with the female who’d apparently left to get him.

He holds a small vial in his hand along with a yellow petal from one of the flowers. I’m surprised to see the Lyr’lumara petal stillholding its pretty glow. “Your mate is distressing everyone here, too, it seems.”

“Is he okay?” I ask, gritting my teeth as he urges me up with his hands, palming my necklace.

“He will be, once we get this over with.”

I watch as he places it on the petal, emptying a drop of the vile onto the tooth. The scent of warm masculine flowers fills the room, invading my senses. Without my permission, a sigh leaves my mouth. I’d know that smell anywhere.

Sor’en.

He closes his eyes, murmuring a prayer in his own language. It isn’t until he's done with the prayer that he opens them again, staring directly at me. Something different in his expression, something oddly tender, if not a little sad. Like the way you look at a child after they’ve broken their favorite toy. I swallow hard, feeling like I’m peeled open for everyone to see. For him to see. Like he knows.

And he pities me for it.

He disappears almost immediately after that, leaving me shaken and back in the endearing hands of the females. I’m breathless and nearly thoughtless as they guide me into the pool. The warmth settles down deep in my bones, welcoming and judgmental. As if every lap of pink petal-filled water they sponge over me is whispering my nasty intentions.

As if the goddesses outside are imbuing each one with a droplet of disapproval.

I don’t even believe in goddesses.

I don’t care.

My lip wobbles.

I don’t want this.

Tears fill my eyes.

I don’t want to stay.