Page 47 of Bred By Sor'en

I turn my sheepish peeking into a stern glare before jerking my attention away and doing my best to walk ahead of him, but Xyrelith’s legs are fuckinglong. By the time we reach Jin’rayal’s strange tent-like structure in the city center, sweat is beading at my hairline, and Sor’en is unbothered in perfect stride with me despite the fact that I’m nearly jogging now to try to get ahead of him.

See?

He's an ass.

He knows what I’m trying to do.

He likes reminding me how impossible it is to get away from him.

Stinking, twisted, goopy, mean, poop ass of a male.

He smirks.

I debate biting him again, pulling his silky hair that’s nicer than mine, and jabbing at his pretty eyeballs. I’d only try it because I know he’d stop me quickly and remain relatively unharmed as we’ve both found out over the past few solars. It’s fruit for thought, so I stick a pin in the idea as we enter Jin’rayal’s houseslashworkshop. Er-formerworkshop where he still works but claims he’s retired. I don’t know, it's weird. I think at a certain age, Xyreliths are supposed to dedicate themselves to more spooky things like sitting in the fields and thinking about death. Introspection about death. Mediating about dying. You know, typical Xyreliths stuff. Jin’rayal, aside from Sor’en, seems like one of the most uninclined to take any of it too seriously. As much as I love—

My steps falter for a moment, making Sor’en’s hand snap out to steady me.

I shake him off.

Yeah, I guess I do love them too.

As much as Ilovemy new friends here, they are a bit of a serious, stuffy crowd. Verybalancedwhich is great for them, slightly boring for me. Although watching them do their odd hand-swirling thing every time I speak is pretty funny, and they seem to think so too.

“A balanced morning, star child,” Jin’rayal says in greeting as we enter the open, shimmering flaps of his tent, booth, shop, house thing. “What brings you by?”

“Aside from you telling me to, your craft leaves a lot to be desired, old man. I’m still itchy.”

That gets his attention, his milky eyes drifting to my stoic guardian before dipping into a frown. “Strange.”

I plop down, scratching at my stomach. The itching has been… a lot, to be honest. It wasn’t so bad at first; I figured I spent too much time lying in the grass chatting with Melion, so I started bringing blankets out. Sor’en and Jin agreed that was likely the issue.

But then it got worse.

And even worse after that.

The skin on my stomach is red and irritated, spreading down toward my inner thighs. Sor’en tries his best to manage at home, using the petals in all sorts of different creams, but so far, nothing has worked. Even the last tincture, this one made by the former master alchemist himself, hadn’t done much but take the edge off.

Jin wastes no time lifting the hem of my dress so he can inspect the skin, making a savage snarl find us from my mate across the tent.

“Go make yourself useful elsewhere, botanist,” Jin offers, not sparing Sor’en a glance.

The same can’t be said for me.

He lingers, clearly torn, hesitating before clenching his jaw and offering me a curt nod before he blips out.

My chest lets out an ugly little pang.

Jin peeks up at me. “You are each other’s balance, star child. It will come back.”

I frown at him until he goes back to inspecting the unmarred skin. No bumps or red dots, nothing normally found when humans get itchy, just the angry traces of my scratching I sneak in when not being guarded by Sor’en. When the older male isn’t staring into my soul, I finally speak up. “It’s your fault, you know.”

He huffs out a laugh at that. “Do not be insulting to my intelligence or your own.”

I smile, trying my best to hide it before I get caught. “Do you think I’m getting sick?”

His head turns to the side, as if he’s listening to something. Something only he can hear. “No, not in a sense.”

I wait to see if he’s going to elaborate.