Page 79 of Tempt

I’m fairly certain the human things I found in the other room have something to do with the way he hides himself from me, but I know he won’t tell me more than he’s willing to give. And right now, he’s given me nothing.

It’s been at least two days of sitting alone in my room, watching the moons brighten and dim, watching the purple trees sway through the oddly shaped windows before I crack.

The night is warm, the air far too sweet. I can feel the faint thud of the kradun moving furniture below me.

And worse, I can feel Eissa in the room beside mine, his body pacing back and forth. I can feel that deep-seated sadness and loneliness from him pushing through my mind. It’s not mine. I know that. It’s deeper, more profound. The house is small, but the distance between us is gaping, wide, unfathomable. I want to crawl into his bed, slide my arms around him, and tuck my face into his neck.

To rage at him and scream.

To curl my hand around my cock and tug.

I turn onto my stomach and rut against the mattress before sighing loudly and sitting up in bed.

I haven’t been sleeping well, my mind flitting from one thought to another. And they’re not all about the Vyastil in the room opposite mine.

No, they are about my brother, Cielo, my parents, and my job. Or what I had of one anyway. I’m sure Everest is going to step in and take over the parts of my brother’s business that I managed. Once again, I’m disposable. And as much as I know this isn’t truly the case, it feels like it in this moment. Especially being so far away.

In another world. Literally.

I twist in bed, the sheets tightening around my feet and calves. I kick them off, feeling the slight puff of air as I do it. My eyes blink open and shut as I try desperately to fall back asleep. But it’s impossible.

Everything right now seems insurmountable.

It’s because when I’m alone in the dark, my body and mind not otherwise occupied, I can feel him the strongest.

Fuck him.

Fuck him for bringing me here, for kissing me like he needed me back in Vegas and again in his small little kitchen. And then both times, discarding me like I was nothing to him. Worthless.

My fingers curl into my palm, the nails biting into my skin.

The anger coupled with the intense feeling of loneliness is what has me pushing myself to my feet and striding to the door. I wonder if it makes a noise as I pull it open because I can feel Eissa stiffen, his words trying to push into my mind, telling me to stay in bed. But I don’t listen to him.

I close that part of myself off to him. For now at least. The past two days I’ve let him in more than I care to admit, to let him feel and experience everything along with me—the frustrations, the anger, the lust.

It’s all been from a safe distance, the two of us never in the same room when I do it.

But right now, I want him to see me when he feels it. I want him to really fucking look at me.

My hand twists the knob to his room, and I fling it open, Eissa coming to stop in the middle of the small space, his tunic fluttering around his ankles as he stares at me. I’m naked. I didn’t bother putting on clothes. In fact, I haven’t bothered to clothe myself since he arrived with some of my things. I just stuffed them in that wardrobe and strode around nude.

Not that he’s around to see me, though. He’s made himself scarce.

Except he’s here now, and he’s looking, his eyes trying not to move across my body but unable to help themselves. I feel pride well up in me and then resentment. Mostly for him, but also some for myself. For wanting his approval despite it all.

‘What do you need?’ he asks, his signs far too formal for my liking. It makes me feel small and out of place, just like I have my whole life.

‘What do you think?’ I respond, my words clipped and stiff.

His lips thin and his tail wraps around his upper arm, just the end, just tight enough that I feel like he’s trying to restrain himself from reaching out to touch me.

I widen my stance, my cock growing hard in front of him. His eyes don’t move. They bore into mine.

‘Go on, watch. I know you want to.’ He blinks and then looks away at the wall.

I hate it, so I shove the thought at him as hard as possible. The wince on his face tells me that it’s been received.

My hands curl, and I step toward him, needing his eyes to communicate.