“Really?” Lilibet’s eyes widened as she pondered this new adventure.
I started to follow them toward the treehouse, my feet moving automatically, but Ceeka’s hand landed on my chest, stopping me in my tracks. Her eyes traveled over my body, taking in every detail of my metamorphosis. I didn’t need to follow her gaze, I could feel the weight of the change in every fiber of my being. My scales had shifted completely. The vibrant, iridescent colors of my birth now turned to solid, matte black that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
“You shifted,” she chittered, her voice heavy, laden with meaning that went far beyond the simple observation.
I simply nodded, unable to trust my voice.
“You know what this means.” Her gaze left mine to travel toward where Jolie and Lilibet rode the conveyance up to the treehouse.
“I do,” I said, but my voice held trepidation rather than the joy I should have felt. “Jolie is my mate. Lilibet is my daughter, but I....” The words caught in my throat like thorns, sharp and painful. “I don’t feel worthy. I almost lost them today, and I....” I hesitated, the old wounds threatening to tear open, bleeding fresh pain into the present. Ceeka knew all too well what I had suffered at the hands of the queen. She’d tended my wounds after that ordeal, both physical and emotional. “I still feel broken.”
Ceeka huffed in aggravation, her fur ruffling and standing on end, dark eyes flashing with something between annoyance and understanding. “Anyone who loves deeply feels fear. It’s the price of love.” She studied me for a long moment, her deep, dark eyes seeing through my defenses to the vulnerable core beneath.She patted me on the arm, her touch warm and reassuring, a faint smile curving her furry face. “You are not broken,” she insisted. “You are healing. You are a good male, Diarvet. Well able to care for a mate and youngling.”
Her words hung in the air, a gentle challenge to the doubt that had taken root in my heart.
Chapter 11
Jolie
The Peecha village was not what I expected. Perhaps because they bore a striking resemblance to Earth’s primates—with their elongated limbs, expressive dark eyes, and thick fur that ranged from deep russet to silvery gray—I had imagined perhaps a collection of nests woven into the high branches or rudimentary shelters constructed of sticks and leaves.
What I didn’t expect was the intricate set of interconnecting caverns built into the side of the mountain, a feat of engineering that would have impressed even the most skilled human architects. Each entrance featured a carefully sculpted overhang that naturally shielded it from the worst of the weather. When the intricately woven vine curtains were drawn across the openings, the habitat was undetectable from even a few meters away.
Diarvet, Lilibet, and I were given two adjoining rooms on the ground floor, connected by a narrow archway. In part, no doubt, because Lilibet and I could not scale the smooth rock walls like the Peecha, who were natural climbers.
The rooms were spacious and surprisingly airy, the walls alive with swirling patterns caught the sunlight filtering through narrow slits in the ceiling, casting shifting patterns of soft, golden shadows. Multiple hand-woven rugs covered the smooth stone floors. Sleeping platforms carved from rock nestledagainst the walls covered by tightly woven grass mats and a pile of soft pelts.
Our quarters didn’t have the comforts of a private kitchen or bath like the treehouse. We relied on communal spaces shared by the tribe, which fostered the close bonds I’d seen among the Peecha. Every morning, the outdoor kitchen came alive with fires and bubbling pots. Aromatic spices and herbs thickened the air as the tribe worked together to provide three hearty meals a day. The bathing chamber lay below ground, fed by natural hot springs, with one chamber for males, one for females, and one for mated pairs. So far, Lilibet and I had enjoyed the deliciously hot mineral pools in the female section. But I couldn’t help my curiosity about the bathing chamber for mated pairs, especially when I caught Diarvet’s heated glances on my damp skin after my evening soaks.
The Peecha certainly treated us as a family. Honestly, we acted like one. Diarvet, Lilibet, and I slept together every night. Nothing could happen with Lilibet between us except smoldering glances and lingering touches, but my dreams were another matter entirely, and they left me aching and breathless every morning.
During the day, Diarvet hunted with the males. I helped Ceeka organize her healing supplies, learning to forage medicinal plans and distinguish between leaves that could heal and those that could harm. Numa has appointed herself Lilibet’s nanny and was at her side during the day while she played with other Peecha children.
I glanced up from grinding dried herbs to see Lilibet giggling as she placed another yellow flower in the messy braid she’d woven from Diarvet’s thick, blue hair. He’d returned from the hunt earlier, dragging an enormous maramount with tusks longer than my arm. Some of the tribe now prepared the creature for tonight’s feast, while Diarvet sat cross-legged in thesoft grass beneath a massive tree being tended by a delighted Lilibet.
He seemed completely at ease, his posture relaxed as he let Lilibet braid his hair with infinite patience. Her joy was infectious, her high-pitched giggles dancing through the air. I caught the rumble of Diarvet’s deep laughter as well. A sound that seemed to vibrate through my bones.
My ovaries twitched, near bursting.
Ceeka made a low, chittering sound, summoning my attention. The moment I met her gaze, she motioned with one long finger toward Lilibet, who had Diarvet’s blue hair looking like a wildflower meadow. Then Ceeka crossed her arms over her chest in a deliberate gesture—the sign forlovein American Sign Language. Many gestures she and I used came from ASL. I’d become fluent in my years as a nurse, and those hand shapes now served me in ways I’d never imagined. Her message was obvious.You love.
“Of course I love Lilibet,” I said, my voice catching slightly on the words. She might not be my blood—she might not even be my species—but Lilibet was my daughter in every way that mattered. I would have died to protect her the day the Wojonik attacked. Thanks to Diarvet, I didn’t have to.
Ceeka shook her head furiously, her thick russet fur rippling with the motion, one long furry finger pointing again. This time, there was no mistaking the direction she indicated.
Diarvet.
She made the love sign again, her movements slower this time, more deliberate, then planted her hands on her slender hips and fixed me with a stare that could have melted stone, waiting for an answer.
I felt heat spread across my face like wildfire. My heart was hammering so hard that I was sure she could hear it. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say no, but I couldn’t say yeseither. Not yet. I loved how he made me feel safe and cherished, like something precious worth protecting. I loved how he was with Lilibet, affectionate, and gentle. I loved lying in his arms at night, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his scales against my skin. Still, I felt scared—terrified—of the vulnerability that came with wanting someone so much it made your bones ache.
My past with men wasn’t great.
I’d grown up wanting to be a nurse, yet as the daughter of blue-collar workers, coming up with the money for college wasn’t easy. From an early age, I studied hard, knowing that education was my only way out. I worked three summer jobs and did well enough in school to pay for most of my education with academic scholarships. My hard work paid off with an offer from Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center upon graduation, the kind of position I’d dreamed about during those long, lonely nights of studying.
Then I met Dr. Asshole.
Dr. Rich Landers, to be precise. He was tall and handsome in that polished, expensive way that spoke of good breeding and better dental work. So charming that even his clinical directions sounded like something Prince Charming would whisper in your ear. My experience with men was limited to a college boyfriend who was more interested in video games than kissing, whose idea of romance was sharing his energy drinks during all-night gaming sessions. I didn't find it surprising that he returned for our five-year reunion with his husband.
