Page 32 of Bred By Sor'en

“Anoint your mate under our goddesses. May you lead into life as you flow into death. May your balance be true and your death unseen. May your souls rest within one another until both of you shall impart to the dirt.”

The pretty words only make more emotion threaten to clog my throat. The substantial weight of the vow is not lost on me, knowing undeniably in this moment, something has changed, that the words meansomethingI lack the full capacity to appreciate, and they’ll play through my mind for the rest of my life.

My lips part as Sor’en offers me his free palm as if to show me what he's doing. I watch in wonder as oil buds to life on his thumb-tip before he shifts his hand under my veil, keeping my face hidden from the spectating eyes and himself. When he brushes his thumb across my forehead, my eyelids flutter, making me sag into him, my legs suddenly unwilling to hold my weight as my body thrums. He steadies me the best he can with our arms tied. It takes a few domtics too long for me to notice the expectant hum in the chamber. My brow furrows despite my bliss as it occurs to me, I'm supposed to do the same. That nobody is quite sure how to proceed or what it means that I can’t. No small amount of jealousy and sadness mingles with the fire building in my chest.

I don’t have oil.

I don’t have anything to offer him.

I look up as if to apologize, the words hot and heavy on my tongue. It feels more like admitting defeat than it should, admitting that the females of his kind could please and honor him better than I, and that makes me mad. I shift my own veil,keeping myself hidden before licking the tip of my finger, and showing him in the same offering.

I can feel his approval more than I can see it, but that doesn’t make it any less moving.

Sor’en leans down, offering me his forehead underneath his veil as I repeat the gesture. His groan is muffled and soft, vibrating across my palm as it lingers on the hard planes of his hidden face.

We’re lost in that moment together, both of us barely sentient beings, as the elderly male offers us a parting prayer I barely hear. No sooner than he finishes, I’m swooped into my mate's arms as the people around us head for the door. Their movements are quick, all blipping in and out of the room in an instant. My body is trembling as I’m held in Sor’en’s arms as he walks into the unending night. Stunning hues dance across the sky like acrobats. Twisting and pulling, ebbing and flowing all at once.

It takes me a long time to pull my eyes from it, but when I do, my heart flutters in my chest. Xyreliths line our path, winding through the city center and beyond. Shoulder to shoulder and reverent as they offer more flowers, more parting blessings of balance in their language and mine. I glance over Sor’en’s shoulder to find Melion trailing behind us, his form far larger and more intimidating than the one I'm used to.

I wonder which one is truly his.

I’m nearly certain this is him… that perhaps he lessens himself to make me feel safer. It’s achingly kind, like the people placing flowers into my waiting arms, each equally as happy, as proud to have me. Not a single glare or sneer.

So unlike the boogeymen from our bedtime stories. I rest my head on my mate’s chest, not missing the shudder that leaves him. I’m not looking for a way out for now. Just for a moment,I’ll forget the tooth on my neck. For a moment, this can be where I’ll stay.

eighteen

Sor’en

I lead my mate through the fields toward the veiled pool, my heart thundering in my chest. The walk of mates is a moment for reverence, a death of self, a rebirth into something for her. I ceased to exist the moment I laid my eyes on my soulveil in that spaceport. The scent of her salty tears is as overpowering and heavy as the smell of her need. With her hand tied with mine, I can almost forget the bitter tang of the experience. The desire to make it all real, if not for her then for myself. I am not reborn, I am not balanced, not in the eyes of my people, myself, my goddesses, or my mate.

But I wish to be.

I wish to shed the skin of the monster and simply wear the bones of the male.

It has been more solars than I care to recount that I have done the bidding of the Intergalactic Alliance. That GalacticGeneral Adder found a terrified stowaway Xyrelith child on Vortara. Our Balla’mar had been attempting to enter into a protection agreement with the help of Kalzait dignitaries. As a young botanist with an over-inflated sense of self-importance, I snuck aboard for every tense meeting that kintic. I had aspired to be a part ofsomething. Had wanted so badly to step outside of the cursed dome. Other males could, upon occasion, during training, within the confines of Silloria, of course. But not a child born with the mark of the goddesses. A child sporting a death shimmer from birth that bled of both sisters. Both sides of the terribly special coin. I was to be protected, hidden in my fields. Foolishly, it was not enough for me.

I did not expect to meet a friend on Vortara. A young, equally as self-important, albeit with more reason to be, Kalzait prince. The heir apparent to the Kalzait throne. Clayan was an unexpected but much-needed friend. Two children who couldn’t have been more different from one another: me with my dirt and flowers and him with his crown and tech. One hated and feared, the other adored and admired. We made an odd pair.

Until I killed him.

One mistake, one loss of control, one flood of toxins in a moment of fear, and I killed the only friend I had ever had.

I was easy picking after that.

The General found me sobbing over Clayan, and before I was old enough to know better, a deal was made.

I glance back down at my mate to find her attention already on me, her sadness shining through her veil. Yes, my little human, I am unworthy.

But perhaps I no longer need to be?

Perhaps… I could free us both from this imbalance.

Her soft gasp is the only thing that pulls me back to the moment. Out of those horrible memories of pale, hardening pale skin and spasming wings. A hated Xyrelith, killing a highlyrespected Kalzait royal in protected airspace? It would’ve been a declaration of war. One we would have immediately with such finality there would have been no trace of the people who graced this land before they would’ve wiped us from it. General Adder said he could keep my secrets. He could offer me a ceasefire, so to speak, so long as I did what was requested of me.

He offered my people protection.

He lied.