His mouth softens. “Kissing is good. And coffee.” I groan, and he laughs again. “There are joys here. Once you heal, we can find you a job. You’ll make friends. Maybe get your own place to live.”
Leave Dante? I feel a visceral reaction to that—like I want to claw him just for suggesting it. Would Dante want that? Would he bring another broken monster here to help heal?
I don’t realize I’m growling until Quilliyn holds up his hands and says, “Peace, Cielo.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I swallow heavily. “I am sorry.”
“No,” he insists. “No.” He shows a little fang, his ears flicking, then asks, “Have you taken from Dante?”
I quickly shake my head. “I am not allowed to—I am not permitted.”
Quilliyn sighs. “You don’t have to listen to all the rules. Not always.” He pauses, then adds, “No one would ever know.”
The thought is tempting and terrifying all at the same time. But I know what kind of pain my people can cause. I have felt it. And I know it would be worse than what I’ve already endured.
It isn’t worth the risk.
“All I mean is that you aren’t alone here, and as much as they want you to believe they are watching, they are not,” Quilliyn goes on. He stands up after a moment, and I follow. He might not want to be a prince, but he still is, and it feels wrong to stayseated when he isn’t. “When you’re feeling up for it, come find me, and I can help you get settled. Maybe meet some other humans, and other Vyastil who have chosen to leave Erethar.”
I nod, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to give up being with Dante, to leave his home. But what if that is what Dante is waiting for? Perhaps I am healing too fast.
Too soon.
I’m not ready to go.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out.
Quilliyn gives me a long, steady look, then nods and starts toward the door. Before he lets himself out, he looks back at me. “I think Dante is good for you. When he wants to help…let him.”
Then he’s gone, and I sink back down, not sure what he means. But I know he’s trying to tell me something without using words.
five
DANTE
The morning after my flare, I wake in a patch of sunlight, warmed by both the early morning rays and a very long, svelte body pressed against me. It takes me a moment, with just a whisper of panic, before I remember who’s in my bed. I stretch my legs downward as far as they can go, my toes gliding along the velvety Vyastil skin until they reach the thicker, almost bird-like feet. I can’t reach the tips of his claws, but I drag the touch around his ankles—or whatever joints the monsters have—and he snuffles a bit before the purring in his chest resumes.
Cielo isn’t holding me the way he had been when I dropped off, but his head is tipped down toward me, and his hair is falling over my chest.
The very last thing in the world I want is to get up, and dear god, it’s almost impossible to peel myself away from his arms. I’m still a little fatigued from the pain, and my muscles ache like I spent all night at the gym instead of curled up in Cielo’s arms.
But I also feel better than I have in a long, long while.
I’ve been suffering from these bouts of pain for years now. My brother and Gia both know, but I’ve begged them to keep their mouths and hands quiet about it. The last thing in theworld I want is for my parents to find out and start hovering and trying to help in their incredibly unhelpful way.
I have no clue what’s causing these issues, only that it’s something to do with my nerves and that, apart from a couple medications that make me feel worse than the flares, there’s no real treatment. I’ve been through every test, been poked, prodded, and scanned, but my results always come back inconclusive.
So, I’ve been living with it, trying to manage the symptoms with no hope for a cure. And last night was the first time I’d been able to get through it without sobbing. I don’t really know what to think about that, but I do know it had something to do with Cielo, and I wish I had a way to thank him.
Stretching, I swing my legs off the bed and hold my breath as I stand. Cielo shifts a little, rolling onto his side and snuffling his face into my pillow. His purring gets a little louder, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to crawl back into bed.
I walk into the bathroom instead, hoping my morning routine will distract me. If Cielo is going to sleep for a while, that’ll give me time to take care of what I need. I want to wash the pain-sweat off my body, and considering that I’m already hard, I can fill a few jars for Cielo’s recovery.
It seems like he’s mostly done healing, but I don’t want to stop giving him my cum. Knowing that Rathyn takes at least fifteen a day from Everest tells me that Cielo could and should have more. But he won’t accept any of it from me, and as much as I want to fill fifteen jars for him, I have a feeling he’d start to question where it was all coming from.
Not to mention that while I have stamina, I don’t havethat muchstamina.
No matter how sexy he is—and dear god, he is fucking sexy.
