Cielo frowns. I don’t know if he doesn’t understand me or if he disagrees. He doesn’t say either way, and I don’t get anything when I probe into his head.
“Look, you have family here, okay? And I meant what I said before. You have us. You won’t be alone like that ever again.”
“My Dante,” Cielo says very slowly. His hand comes up to curl around my wrist, his claws poking against my skin. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a sharp reminder of what he is. Of who he is. Maybe it should terrify me. Maybe I should think a little deeper about what Zane said.
But then I look into Cielo’s eyes and think about everything he’s endured, I know I can’t. I don’t care what it takes. I won’t ever let anyone—human or Vyastil—ever hurt him again.
Scrubbing both hands through my hair, I sit back, my eyes a little crossed from how long I’d been reading on the monitor. For the last several weeks, I’ve been exploring every inch of Cielo’s body, making notes on the things he likes—and the things he doesn’t.
I’ve gotten info from Everest, too. And feedback from Quilliyn. Luca seemed a little reluctant to work with me on thedesigns for the Vyastil sex toys, but in the end, he gave in to my borderline bullying, and we got them done.
He’s spent the last week looking for a financier for our project, which I knew was going to be tricky. Even humans who tolerated and even enjoyed the presence of Vyastil didn’t seem overly on board with wanting to make their stay more comfortable.
The Vyastil already got mandatory human cum.
Why did they need to take up space in sex shops?
But they don’t understand the Vyastil the way I’ve come to. They don’t live with one. They don’t see the pain, the hurt, the neglect. They don’t see the way they cling and cuddle and chase pleasure like they’d been starved of it their entire lives.
Because they have been.
And now, Luca has come through.
‘So, anonymous? Mean what?’ I ask before rubbing my eyes, my brain in a slight fog from exhaustion.
He shrugs and makes a scoffing sound. ‘Don’t trust, but it’s the best offer. Outbid no one—offered seventeen percent above asking.’
I’m not used to that, and it seems a little sus, but also, the contract appears to be in order. Our lawyer looked it over and gave the okay. She didn’t see anything shady, and the agreement wasn’t couching language that would fuck us over. The financier also wants five percent on the returns, and we retain a hundred percent of the intellectual property.
It’s a dream, which is probably why I’m nervous. I’m not used to getting what I want without a fight.
‘If you’re okay with it, I’m okay with it,’ I tell my brother.
He lets out a sigh, shrugs, then nods. He seems even more tired than a month ago when he came back from Vegas, and he’s still not talking to me about it. I even tried getting him drunk a couple nights ago, but he wouldn’t spill.
He did mention something about dick cookies and hotel room door locks, but nothing coherent. Something happened when he was in Vegas, but Luca has always been more stubborn than me. When he wants to keep his mouth shut and his fingers locked in fists, he’s a steel trap.
I will never know what happened until he wants to tell me.
‘Okay. I’m going to sign,’ I tell him. I set up the VeriSign and add my initials, then my signature, before passing Luca the keyboard to do the same.
He does without hesitation, which makes me feel a little better about my decision to do this. The confirmation email comes back quick, but I know we won’t hear from our mysterious patron until…well, who the fuck knows.
He has Luca’s contact info, and the attorney’s, so there’s a chance I might never know who this person is. Not that it matters. This is for us. For the good of our business.
To prove that the world is moving forward. That we’re progressive.
Luca taps a knuckle on the desk to get my attention, and I look at him, brows lifted.
‘How are you doing?’
I almost laugh. ‘Me? You’re the one who looks like shit.’
He flips me off and makes an irritated noise. ‘That’s not what I mean. Your pain,’ he says, the sign flicking off his fingers a little abruptly.
I grimace. Not because the pain has been worse, but because the pain has been relatively non-existent since the last flare, and I’m terrified to jinx it. And I’m terrified to think that the best treatment might be two herbs that send humans into some kind of heat.
If this is what Cielo wants from me, I’ll do it for him. But it sounds exhausting, even if Everest claims to love it.
