Page 53 of Bred By Sor'en

I try to smile before a flicker of a tail finds me again, dread, confusion, and guilt taking over. Swirling in my mind like the glowing bugs in the fields. “Sor’en… I saw something today…”

He gives me time, sensing I need a moment to gather my thoughts. His hands working down my legs in warm scrubbing passes as I nestle harder into his lap. His cock already vibrating, ready for more.

I ignore it.

For now.

“Someone, I saw someone I used to know. But she's dead.” The words are heavy on my chest, tight and unwelcome. “It couldn’t have been her, but it looked… I swear it looked just like her.”

“The veil and those we love who linger beyond it behave strangely in times of peril. Xyreliths can see them, hear the spirits in times of great distress.”

I shake my head. “She’s gone, though. Her soul is… I’m pretty sure it's gone too, and either way, I am not a Xyrelith.”

“You are the only one who seems to feel so. I don’t wish to be at odds any longer, my mate. My soul is so weary without you.”

Wincing at the state of my worn body as I turn in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and hiding my face in his neck. “I love you too.”

twenty-six

Hue

Life returned to normal almost immediately after the attack, seamlessly, so simply it was clear that, despite there having not been a successful breach in a while, this was routine. The very next night, we held a vigil despite there being no losses, at least on our side of the fight. Sor’en explained it was a moment to restore balance, to move past and leave it behind. Everyone gathered in the fields, ate the flowers, and meditated in silence for nearly five zentics. Despite my best efforts, I fell asleep rather quickly and woke up groggy and high as all hell, sprawled between Jin, Sor’en, and Melion. That was over three kintics ago now. Sor’en and I are good, better than we were before, despite the secrets still between us. Melion is still offering me his bonding tendril, and I’m still too scared to take it. Although I can see how sad it makes him, every time I try, some kind of deep, primal fear sends me into a near panic.

Me’alma offers me her blessing of balance as she passes me on my way to Jin’s. It’s surreal to see her stomach so swollen so suddenly. Apparently, Xyrelith gestation, like everything else about them, is kind of odd. From the onset of pregnancy, there are very few signs for kintics that a pregnancy has even taken root. During that time, their tiny death omens are preparing their bodies with a gestational toxin that prepares them to expand rapidly within solars.

Fucking horrifying.

Most Xyrelith women don’t even know they're pregnant until the great balloon expands in their stomach, and after that, it is no more than a mere limtic before they give birth. I scratch my stomach as I round the corner into Jin’s tent, plopping my basket down loudly on the table, eyeing whatever sweet-smelling thing he’s working with, and checking my pee flower corner. It's only when I don’t hear anything snarky that I lift my head to find him. My heart stops at the still sight of him slumped over in his chair. My stomach bottoms out as I bolt for him, my hand meeting him so roughly I bruise my knuckles on his bony body. “Jin!”

He doesn’t move, his head shifting toward the side as I shake him.

“Jin’rayal!”

Panic hits me hard and fast, making tears swim in my eyes until he groans, swatting at me. His milky eyes open slowly in a deep scowl. “Would you cease your yelling? You’ll have the entire city in a fuss.”

All the air leaves my lungs in a rough whoosh. Sucking my budding, snotty nose back into place as I feverishly wipe at my eyes, pretending like he isn’t staring at me. “W-well, I needed help and you’re horrid and lazy,” I choke out.

For once, he’s quiet, looking down at me with familiar sympathy. With something that looks a lot like the way Sofaxiwould look at me while I cried over something she didn’t know how to fix.

I jerk my basket off the table and shove it at the old man as I blink rapidly, trying to breathe past the tightness in my chest. “Bless these.Please.”

That shifts his attention as he unwraps the flowers in the basket, lifting his brow line. “It is poor form to ask a male to bless his own death flowers.”

I frown. “What? No, I picked these for Sor’en. I was going to offer them to Pamora and Famore.”

He huffs out a laugh at my botched version of their names. I’ll get it, eventually.

“I would perhaps rethink that, unless the botanist died in his sleep last night.”

My chest tightens further. “Of course not!”

“Black Lyr’lumara flowers denote grief.”

I scramble up onto an outrageously high stool in defeat. “I spent hours in the fields this morning trying to find those because they matched his skin.”

He laughs at that, more heartily than before, but there's something wrong about him today. Tired. He doesn’t stand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him still in this tent for longer than a domtic.

I’m staring down at the table, letting loose a list of profanity in my head. I’d wanted to do something sweet for Sor’en… something to show him how much I love him. Mates give blessings; he’d done several for me without me even knowing until Jin let it slip a few solars ago. The glass beaker twists in my palms over and over as I stew.