Again?Again?
My lips tingle, and I curl my hands around either side of his jaw and pull him close. His skin beneath my lips is soft and warm, and I can feel his ears flick against my fingers. He hums low and melodic in his chest—a sound of relief and pleasure.
Fuck.
“You like that?” I murmur as I pull back.
He licks his lips, then says very clearly, “Yes.”
I don’t draw attention to it. Instead, I rock back on my heels, which sends a fresh wave of pain through my body. Hissing, I drop to the chair beside him as that weird flicker against my temple knocks once more.
“Dannntehhhh,” he says, reaching out to touch my knee. He wets his lips and then switches to sign. ‘What’s wrong?’
I shake my head. “Nothing.” I want to sign back, but the pain has spread, and I know my hands will be shaking if I try.
He tilts his head to the side as his piercing gaze calls me a liar.
“It’s like the other night,” I explain. Closing my eyes, I take in a few more lungfuls of air. “It’ll pass.”
His chair makes an obnoxious noise on the wood floors as he scoots closer to me. His chest brushes my arm, and then he starts to purr. Loudly.
My lips twist into a smile that feels a bit closer to a grimace. “Thank you.”
He taps my arm, then says, also surprisingly clearly, “Beeeed.”
“You need to eat,” I remind him.
He snorts a laugh. “Nooo.”
As I compartmentalize the pain, I lean back to look at him. “Cielo. You’re still healing. You need to eat.”
He shakes his head firmly. I remember Everest telling me how they rarely eat much. Once a day is usually enough for Rathyn, but he’s also the monster who’s getting fifteen servings of cum, which Cielo is not.
And there’s not a chance I can give him an extra one right now. Not with how I’m feeling.
But he looks determined, and frankly, bed sounds amazing. I’ll regret not eating in the morning, but I’ve gone longer without food before.
“Okay,” I relent. “Meet me in there. I’m going to try taking some of that tea Everest told me about.”
Zitha, he’d called it. I found it among the herbs Rathyn had left behind for Cielo, and texted a photo to Everest just to be sure. The leaves are small and dark purple, almost spiny. He said I can take them on their own since they dissolve, but he says the effects are less intense if I water them down.
“Zitha,” Cielo says. It’s a mix of English and Eretharian—like a musical note with a word attached. When I nod, he scoots back. ‘I make.’
I want to argue, but he seems determined, and in all honesty, I just want my bed. “Okay,” I whisper. I manage to stand with the help of the table, and I force myself to take steady steps until I’m in the hallway where he can’t see me.
The moment I’m out of his sightline, I collapse against the wall and bite back a short sob. Fuck, I hate this. I hate it so fucking much.
I hate not being in control. I hate how the pain can ruin these soft, necessary moments with people I care about.
I hate that I still don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, and that I have no idea if it’s ever going to get any better.
I make it to the bedroom with just enough strength to peel off most of my clothes. The cool sheets are slightly uncomfortable on my tender skin, but they warm up after a second, and I close my eyes as I listen to Cielo move around the kitchen.
It’s a little loud. It reminds me of Luca since he’s almost never aware of the sounds he makes. It’s an odd comfort, though the way I feel about Cielo is anything but brotherly.
Even with the pain shooting through me, I’m reminded of how much I want him as Cielo appears in the doorway. He takes up so much space that he has to duck to get his body through, and I can’t help but drink him in. All those muscles, his blue skin, his rainbow pools sitting over onyx black. It’s so inhuman, but so enticing that it makes me ache for his touch.
He’s cradling a steaming cup of tea between his massive hands like it’s something precious, and he makes a soft, almost mournful trill as he kneels at the side of the bed.
