Page 36 of Tempt

I cannot put this on him. It is my burden to carry.

Not wanting to go up to my own quarters, I start walking, my head in a tailspin. I do not know what to do with myself in this moment and despise not being in control of my emotions. It is not how we are expected to behave. Vyastil society would have us suppressing every single emotion apart from the desire to grow in power, at the expense of anyone we might care for.

It’s why Vyastil no longer care for their own eggs. It’s why we’re never told which hatchling belongs to us. To sever the most fundamental connection—between parent and child—allows that rift to grow to other relationships.

It is not true to our nature, though. Rathyn has shown me this. I almost forgot what it was like to want someone as profoundly as Rathyn wants Everest, and there is a grief with that because I had it, and then I lost it.

And now I have Luca, and I cannot allow myself to take that risk again.

I’m several miles down the road when my eyes take in my surroundings and I realize I am downtown. I did not intend to come this way, but my stomach sinks when I notice I can scent him in the air. I cannot help that my very being is drawn to him. I cannot seem to outrun him, no matter how hard I try.

I turn to walk back the way I came, but then something catches my eye.

Creature Comforts.

I don’t know it personally, but it’s one of the few Vyastil-run businesses in town. Along with the gym that Prince Quilliyn runs, it’s one of the places Vyastil can go and feel at home—unjudged and welcome, the way many human spaces are not for us.

Without really thinking, I walk toward the door and pull it open, my ears flicking and a thrymm rising in my throat when I smell the familiar scents of home. Vyastil do not eat much by nature, and it has been generations since we indulged in things like food and drink for fun, but these Vyastil are clearly trying to bring something back to us that was lost.

I take a deep breath as I walk toward the counter and immediately spot a Vyastil wearing nothing but an apron and a wrap around his waist. He’s leaning against the coffee machine, head tipped down as he speaks to the human employee who looks very irritated.

When he catches my eye, his own widen, and I can tell in this moment he knows my station. His head bows in respect as I approach and glance toward the Eretharian menu.

“Greetings,” the Vyastil says in our language.

“Greetings. What is your name?”

“Zinni. And you?”

“Eissa.”

He must recognize the name because his nostrils flare and he gives me a deep nod of reverence, maybe even fear. I do not want it. I do not want to feel the shackles of my burden right now. I just want to be an average Vyastil.

“There is no need for that. I am here as a customer.” I wave my hand toward the menu above the small human’s head and hear a sigh. “I see that you have combined a mix of Earth and Erethar.”

Zinni perks up. “We have. It was the owner of the building’s idea. He is…unique for a human.”

“Ah, and who is this unique human? The one beside you?”

Zinni laughs. “No, that’s Syl. He’s our employee. The building owner is named Luca Barducci.” Even as my entire world is shifted sideways, Zinni says quietly, “He cannot hear. Deaf, they call it on Earth. I understand how most Vyastil feel about imperfections, but he is very brilliant.”

“Ah, I see,” I manage to say. The truth is, I know Luca is brilliant. He is more than that. His lack of hearing has never once made me doubt him.

“Do you know him?” Zinni asks, clearly studying my reaction.

I lie. I have no choice. “I do not. But I should like to meet him.”

Zinni’s ears droop. “He was just here. He has been trying the different drinks he suggested we make. Would you like one?”

I nod, and I hear the small human beside Zinni huff. I glance down at Syl, and he blinks up at me before looking away. He seems like a very interesting human with the tattoos on his arms, and it’s clear Zinni is protective of him by the way he keeps close and seems always at the ready to jump in should the human need assistance.

A small part of me wonders if Zinni has discovered the connection possible between Vyastil and humans. Perhaps this Syl is VySytheh as well. But I cannot risk asking.

“Do not mind him,” Zinni says, mistaking my frown for irritation. “He is upset when he is left out. He is tiny, but he has big emotions.”

I eye Syl as he pushes his glasses higher on his nose, and he makes a face at me, his cheeks flushed.

“Good day, Syl,” I say, and he startles.