I know Everest is trying to learn some Eretharian, but I’m not sure our brains are equipped for the Vyastil language. I still don’t understand how some of them can speak human languages and some, like Cielo, are incapable.
Cielo seems calmer when they leave, and I wonder if Rathyn stresses him out and he’s glad he’s gone, or maybe he’s just excited about all those romance novels he’s placed in my car.
The way his ears happily flutter when I shut the trunk has me slipping my hand into his as we make our way to the coffeeshop. It’s not as crowded as I was afraid of, and Cielo seems to relax as we walk inside and approach the counter.
The woman at the register shoots him a curious look, but she doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as most people. Even so, Cielo scoots closer to me as I set my hands on the counter.
“What can I get you?”
I look up at him. “Latte?”
‘Large,’ he says, emphasizing the sign as best he can.
I laugh and turn back to the barista. “Whatever’s your biggest size latte, and I’ll have an herbal tea.” My pain is still present, lingering under my skin, and I’m still hoping it won’t turn into anything by the end of the night.
My flares are rarely this close together, so I’m thinking it might be the stress of moving Cielo in and of seeing what happened to him. I would never blame him for it, of course. This is not his fault.
But stress always takes me out.
‘Do you want to stay or go home?’ I sign after we pay and shift to the side to wait.
He flicks his ears, then lifts fingers to his cheek to tap them. ‘Home.’
We’ve caught the eye of a couple of customers in the café. It’s not a look I’m unused to. We’ve lived here since birth, but people still stare at Luca and me when we sign in public like we’re putting on an improv dance routine. Adding to that the fact that Cielo’s a Vyastil in a very human space—and considering most people know Vyastil don’t like human food—and we’re definitely a walking attraction.
After we grab our drinks from the counter, I offer my hand, and after a long moment of staring at it, Cielo lays his palm against mine. I feel a rush of possessiveness and a sudden urge to call him a good boy for following directions.
I’ve always loved heaping praise on the person I’m fucking, but this, with Cielo, is a very new feeling.
I bite my tongue and hold my paper cup tightly so I don’t give in to the temptation and instead, pull him gently through the front doors and toward the car.
Just before we get there, he makes a soft trilling noise and points to a shop across the street. Its sign isn’t lit up anymore, but I know that place. I know Asa. He’s shopped in my store a couple of times, and we’ve lamented the pain in the ass it is to run a business here.
“They’re not open,” I say. “Have you been there?”
He nods, then runs the side of his hand over his coat sleeve without spilling his latte.
“Oh. Is that where you got your coat?”
He smiles, all fang, and nods.
“We can go check them out sometime if you want,” I say. “Maybe something else will catch your eye.”
He brightens, and fuck, it’s cute. It’s…hell, there aren’t words for how he makes me feel. It’s a warmth in my stomach. It’s a need to curl my body around him and never let anything bad touch him again.
I lift our joint hands and almost kiss his knuckles before I realize that is not appropriate. He’s not my boyfriend—or whatever the monster equivalent would be.
Yeah, he’s drinking my cum, but he doesn’t know that. And yeah, we might cuddle, and he might purr all over me when I’m feeling like shit, but I have to have firm lines drawn until he tells me he’s ready for more.
If he ever wants more.
My chest aches with the need to have him in every way possible. To see him on his knees with his lips tucked around his fangs, my cock buried in his throat. To kiss him, to grab onto his cock and stroke.
But I keep all of that to myself.
Just then, a foreign sensation knocks right at my temple. An almost curious, “Huh?” sensation before it’s gone.
Maybe I’m losing it. It has been a long fucking week.
