Page 31 of Bred By Sor'en

I don’t like it here.

With the pretty flowers, stupid males and soft, quiet people.

I don’t deserve this welcome.

The made-up goddesses and I both know it. Soon the rest of them will too.

I let them dunk me, watching as my body starts to melt against my will, my blessed burden sinking under the pink tinged water with me as I relax against my will.

“Is this a toxin?” I ask.

Me’alma laughs. “It is the flowers. Rest, human Hue. You have a long night ahead of you. We will wash you for him.”

I don’t argue or think too much about her words. Or the giggles that follow as I let my eyes flutter shut, the females supporting my weight.

seventeen

Hue

I’m not sure how long or short a while passes when I’m urged awake, feeling more rested than I’ve felt in solars. My body is languid and soft from the water as they help me from the pool, petals sticking to my warmed skin. They don’t knock them free, nor do they dry me as the sheer, shimmering dress that looks like starfall is lifted over my head. My long red hair is dripping down my back, splattering onto the floor at my bare heels. The only noise in the otherwise silent room,tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. When a veil, the same starry sheer material that wards away the chill from the room, is settled over my head, I fully come awake.

“Go with balance, human Hue,” they whisper before I’m suddenly urged out a set of doors, my eyes blowing wide.

The females around me all scramble to take their places in the vast rows of—

Oh, holy shit...

The chamber is filled with Xyreliths, all towering over me where they stand like morbidly beautiful sentinels. Each holding a single glowing flower in their hands, casting the otherwise dark room in an eerie bioluminescent twinkle. Movement from in front of me grabs my attention before every inch of my body lights aflame. A deep, pulsing need starts at my core, flooding my lower belly as Sor’en stares back at me from behind his own veil. His garment, a structured sheer male counterpart, shimmers in the same starfall pattern as mine. His cutting off at his shins while mine billows behind me, catching the breeze with every shift before and gathering at my feet.

“Go to him, star child,” a male voice finds me, only for the elderly male to appear beside my mate. Eliciting a soft growl from Sor’en that has the room all repeating the same gesture above their heads. Save for the elderly male who looks more than a little pleased with himself, as if to rub in that we let this go far too long.

My hands tremble as I gather my dress, hiking it up high so that I can walk. It's only after I’ve done that, that I catch a glimpse of myself in the utterly still reflection pools that line the walkways halting my steps again.

I am… I look… otherworldly.

Ethereal.

Nothing like Human 74-B.

I look like the mate to a death omen.

To a god among males.

A botanist.

Who grew the flowers his people are throwing at my feet as I shake myself free from my own reflection and finally walk to him. The room is cool, but I am nearing a fever-pitch watching with each languid step as Sor’en’s chest heaves in tune with mine, each step altering, changing, igniting aneed, a solitarydesire for something of my own. Something dangerous and intoxicating.

Warmth whispers around me, shifting my veil as Melion materializes at my side, his shadows leaving ticklish wisps along my flesh. I get the feeling it’s a blessing, a request even of his own, although I’m not sure for what.

He dissipates before reforming beside Sor’en as I join him, my breath airy whispers within the veil that brushes the ground by my feet on either side. I’m grateful in this moment that my face is hidden, if nothing else, to mask the sudden onslaught of tears rolling down my cheeks and the horrifying slickness of my center.

“Your arms,” the elderly male orders softly, his voice carrying throughout the room on a burst of warmth I can’t place. Like the palace itself wishes him to be heard.

I don’t hesitate when I offer mine, and neither does Sor’en.

My skin is a live wire as both of our arms are taken in his hold and joined. My hand grasps Sor’en’s toned wrist as he grasps mine. A shudder breaks out over my spine as Sor’en’s palm suddenly grows slick with oil. But where it was a gentle, warm tingle before, this is liquidfire. Tantalizing and razing. My teeth sore my inner cheek to halt the moan from leaving my lips. My free hand twitches with the desire to spread it all over my skin, between my legs, and over that place where he licked me. The vibrating is back, now knowing where it originates, what it means… my breath comes out a little quicker than before.

The prayers filter in from every angle, more flowers falling at our feet as the male binds our arms with a thick band of that same starry silken material. Each moment filling me with something new, something warm and inviting. It has nothing to do with the inferno oil coating my arm. Not even as it drips onto our bare feet, making me choke back another moan. Hating the idea of even a droplet being lost as much as I love the way it’soozing from him, uncontrolled and sopping. Under the pools of my dress, I lift one sole above the top of my other foot, desperate to spread it around.