I can smell the distress emanating from his coiled, fragile body.
He is in pain. A pain I know a little too intimately.
I step toward him, and his eyes meet mine. “Dahhhnteee,” I attempt to say.
“Hey, hey. I’m fine,” he grunts, his hands on his stomach. “I’m sorry if I woke you. This happens sometimes, and tonight is a bad one.”
I stare down at him, unsure what is wrong. A bad one? I don’t understand.
In Erethar, there are plants you can eat that can give you the kind of pain he seems to be in, but we are not in my world. I do not know what is wrong or how to fix it.
“I’ll be fine soon,” he whispers. “Just need to wait it out. You can go back to the couch.”
I don’t like that option. I cannot stand the idea of lying in the other room while he’s in distress.
I glance at the other side of his bed. It is very small, perfect for a human. He offers me a strained smile, so unlike the ones he usually gives me, and I find myself moving toward him. I want to comfort him as he has comforted me in these recent days.
My tail unwraps from around my waist and curls around his ankle as I kneel down beside him. He meets my gaze, his dark irises surrounded by bright white, so unlike the Vyastil. I reach a hand out, my finger running across his forehead. The beads of sweat collect against my skin, and he sighs at the touch.
“Oh. That feels nice,” he says, his eyes closing. I do it again, stroking my fingers down his cheek. He leans into my touch, and I feel my body respond. My tail tightens around him, and without really thinking, I begin to thrymm, the vibrations rumbling deep inside my chest.
“Mm, you’re cool.” He reaches up and brings my palm to his overheated cheek.
My thrymm grows.
“Are you purring?” he asks, and I feel my ears flutter.
Is that what humans call it? “Purr,” I say.
He grins and presses his hand to my chest to feel it. “Yeah. I like that sound. I like how it feels against me.” He sighs again as my thrymm grows louder. “Could you, like…lie down behind me? But don’t hurt yourself, okay? If it’ll be too much…”
I cut him off, my tail unwrapping from around him, and I crawl over his body, unsure of what he wants me to do. But when he scoots over, his back hits my side, and his arm reaches over to pull my hand against his chest.
I lay my palm where he wants it, feeling his weak, fragile heartbeat against it, and I allow my thrymm to soothe him. It’s not entirely voluntary. I want to make him better, and this is the only way I know how.
It is unexpected the way I am responding to him, but I cannot contain it. My desire for him is almostalive.
“That feels nice,” he whispers, and I gently wrap my tail around him once more, like a hug.
In my arms, he feels different than other humans do. I don’t know how to explain it. I care for Everest. He is my friend—a strange, human concept that still scares me a little. I am protective of him.
I will kill for him.
I will die for him.
And hugging him has always felt nice and comforting. But it’s not the same as it feels to hold Dante. The moment I met him, something shifted inside me. A need. A yearning. It’s everything we are told we’re not meant to want. Everything we’ve been told is dangerous for the future of our species.
I should run from it, but all I can do is pull him closer, letting my thrymm rumble louder through my chest. I can feel him relaxing against me, and it does something to me to know that I am bringing him peace.
Leaning my nose against his temple, I take a deep breath. His scent is familiar. Like home.
“Thank you,” he murmurs after a long, long while.
My lips and tongue work. Human languages have been almost impossible for me, but in this moment, my tongue nolonger feels like it’s tied in knots, and I manage to respond, “Welllcommm.”
He laughs sleepily, then nestles back against me. “Will you stay? Tonight, will you stay? I know it’s small and uncomfortable, but?—”
“Dahhnnnte,” I manage. He goes quiet, and I huff, holding him just a bit tighter.
