Pyxlevir’s gaze narrowed. “You realized that you had a matebond still lying around and it wasn’t going away.”
“I’m a shifter. My zebra never lets me forget that I have a mate.”
“So, your zebra is the impetus to dissolve your matebond?”
The zebra in question whinnied sharply in Gramlithyn’s head, so he took a steadying breath and borrowed his beast’s bravery. “I vowed to be open to every option, and I meant it.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Gramlithyn cleared his throat and had to drop his chin to break eye contact with Pyxlevir. “You’re right, I didn’t.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Pyxlevir said, his voice vibrating with what Gramlithyn assumed was fury. “After six years you show up and want me to uproot my life so you can get what you want, which I’ve done. Despite being the son of a Chieftain and a full-blooded elf raised with thousands of years of tradition, you want me to defy everything I’ve learned. At the same time, you can’t even answer a simple question. What am I supposed to do other than assume you were being honest last weekend when you told me I should be grateful that you left so you weren’t forced into a matebond you didn’t want.”
“What if I can’t tell you the truth because it’d scare you?”
The barstool scraped across the floor as Pyxlevir stood. Pyxlevir stalked toward him and didn’t stop until he was a footfrom Gramlithyn. Their eyes met, and Gramlithyn admired the way Pyxlevir lifted his chin in defiance. Nothing scared Pyxlevir.
“Try me, Gramlithyn.”
Gramlithyn dragged his hands down his face as his zebra snorted almost violently in his head, demanding that his half-elf ass find his courage.
“Okay,” Gramlithyn said. He swallowed thickly. “My zebra is instinctual. Fate paired him, and that’s it. He doesn’t understand our obstacles, but thankfully, he’s patient and hasn’t revolted.”
They stared at each for several charged seconds. Pyxlevir blinked slowly, breaking whatever spell had locked them in place.
“Six years is a long time to fight with your beast,” Pyxlevir eventually remarked.
“Since you want honesty, I’ll tell you it was easier with distance. Now that we’re under the same roof, he is antsier. Shifting helps, and it also clears my head.”
“So, tonight I’ve learned that you had no immediate plans to return to Vegas and our matebond is causing a growing rift between you and your beast.”
“Basically,” Gramlithyn acknowledged. After another cleansing breath, he forced himself to stare into the azure eyes that haunted his dreams. “You deserve to know that I’m sorry for the past six years. It probably wasn’t the best decision to run off.”
“Probably?”
“Okay, it wasn’t the wisest choice.”
Pyxlevir crossed his arms, and Gramlithyn desperately wished he could read his expression, but too much sat between them for their friendship to have survived their separation. “Then why did you do it?”
“I’d think that was pretty obvious. We’re both the sons of Chieftains. The moment we told anyone about our matebond, we’d be at D’Vaire with wreaths on our heads and an athame cutting our hands to seal us for eternity. I didn’t want either of us forced into that. The last thing I wanted was to be a victim of tradition.”
“Is this where I’m supposed to apologize for Fate making you avictim?”
“No, that was a poor choice of words,” Gramlithyn said, wishing he could slap some sense into himself as his zebra whinnied with disapproval. “Maybe this is the reason I ran—because I can’t express myself properly. Look, all I wanted was for the matebond in my life to mean something for me and my partner. We were best friends who lacked sexuality until Fate barged in with her choice. Three fucking days is not long enough to decide that eternity is going to work for anyone, not even two people who were as close as we were then.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
“Yes, three days is nonsense,” Pyxlevir stated. “I agree with you. Yes, I was raised with elven traditions, but this is my life. I’m not making an eternal choice in seventy-two hours, which is something you would’ve known if you’d asked me instead of running off without a word. Just like the traditions you rebelled against, you took away my options. You never asked me whatIwanted. You decided our matebond wasn’t for you and left. Like Fate, you altered everything without my consent.”
Gramlithyn bobbed his head as he bit back tears. Pyxlevir was right. But although Gramlithyn wanted to be honest, he wasn’t ready to bare his soul and admit that he’d left because his heart was broken. Even now, he could vividly remember the shock on Pyxlevir’s face the day he’d discovered what Fate had done to them.
“I’m sorry,” Gramlithyn whispered.
“I want to accept your apology, but I’m still pissed. You didn’t only take away my choices; you robbed me of my best fucking friend. Now, that boy I knew is gone. We’re grown up, and we must make adult choices. It’s imperative we weigh tradition, Fate, and our lives moving forward as we wade through this next year. Because at the end of the day, I have to explain this shit to my family. My guess is you’ll run off again regardless of who it hurts if that’s what suits you.”
Gramlithyn couldn’t argue with Pyxlevir’s assessment. If he didn’t find some way to convince Pyxlevir to consider him a proper mate, he would leave Vegas behind forever. Fate wouldn’t forget Pyxlevir, and he’d wind up with someone else who suited him perfectly. Gramlithyn would be damned if he’d sit around and watch someone else share their life with Pyxlevir. His zebra snorted in agreement.
