In a perfect world, Pyxlevir would have rushed into Gramlithyn’s arms, and they would’ve announced the incredible news to their family to add to the joy of Pyxlevir’s birthday party. Instead, Gramlithyn was counting the minutes until he could get the hell out without his mother taking him to task for being rude. Although Gramlithyn told himself he’d been prepared for rejection, he’d been wrong.
His heart ached. Memories of his short life danced through his mind, and Pyxlevir was there in every sacred remembrance. Their friendship was the cornerstone of everything.
It has to end.
Gramlithyn blew out a deep breath as that thought flitted into his brain. His zebra brayed—it wasn’t a noise of defiance but of understanding. The beast sharing his soul was no happier with Pyxlevir’s rejection than his elven half. Gramlithyn could not go through another day pretending he was fine.
Fate was a dominant force in his life. His parents had taught him to respect the goddess, and elvish traditions were expected of him. Which meant he and Pyxlevir would have to combine blood and bite in the next seventy-two hours. That could not happen. Gramlithyn refused to spend eternity staring into Pyxlevir’s gorgeous face, knowing he was the last thing his best friend wanted.
While Gramlithyn couldn’t keep Pyxlevir from announcing anything, he’d have to do it without Gramlithyn. He wanted no part of that discussion. If Gramlithyn’s parents discovered the truth about Fate’s choice, they’d expect him to do his duty. His mother would insist he do nothing to put distance between himself and his beast. But his zebra was as hurt as the rest of him.
His camping trip was in a couple of days, and Gramlithyn wished he were leaving in the next five minutes. All he wanted was to escape. A path he could take that would help douse the maelstrom of agony brewing ever stronger in him as the seconds ticked by.
If being rejected by his mate wasn’t enough, Gramlithyn didn’t even have his best friend to confide in. Pyxlevir was the person who understood him best. The one being on the planet Gramlithyn could run to with nearly every crazy thought that entered his head. Gramlithyn’s romantic feelings for Pyxlevir were the lone thing he’d kept to himself.
And he was so happy he’d made that decision.
Now he had to face reality. One without Pyxlevir.
A slicing pain ripped through his heart at the thought, but there was no alternative. Gramlithyn didn’t know how else to handle the situation. The last thing he wanted was a mate who didn’t return his affections. Especially not Pyxlevir. Gramlithyn swallowed thickly and wondered how much longer he could keep his tears at bay.
There was so much grief inside him. Sorrow and pain. He swore his heart was trembling. Or perhaps it was his soul itself that quaked. Gramlithyn wondered why he bothered to separate the two things. Every part of him was in agony, and he wanted to shift. To take the form of his zebra and run.
Gramlithyn didn’t care where he wound up. All he wanted was to bolt. So did his beast.
A new voice in his head wondered if he was onto something. He had a three-month trip planned. Then what? How could he return to the reality of his current fucked-up predicament? Nothing would be different in a few months.
The social pressure of being an elf meant his parents would be furious at him for running off when he should’ve been planning a matebond ceremony. Gramlithyn had to assume that despite Pyxlevir’s aversion to being his other half, he would do his duty. Once their souls were bound, there was no going back. They were stuck for eternity in each other’s lives.
Gramlithyn shuddered at the thought. What would their relationship look like? Would they fake a perfect life for their families and friends only to become polite strangers stuck with Fate’s choice behind closed doors? Or would they come to a more horrifying arrangement where they played their respective roles even when they were alone?
Could Gramlithyn touch Pyxlevir intimately while knowing it wasn’t what his best friend wanted? The answer was no.
What Gramlithyn needed was a plan. One he doubted would come to him in the next three months. A little space would be good for him. He hadn’t envisioned a future spreading his figurative wings alone, but he’d already learned with excruciating devastation that getting what he wanted wasn’t always in the cards.
That night he’d pack up his bags and take everything he’d need for a much longer journey than his planned three-month trip. And he wouldn’t tell anyone about his secret change of plans until he had no choice.
∞∞∞
As the last guests left Pyxlevir’s party, he let out a relieved breath. For hours he’d plastered a smile on his face while a flurry of feelings churned in his belly. He wasn’t sure the earth-shattering news that Gramlithyn was his mate had settled into his heart and brain yet.
The man in question had avoided Pyxlevir during the party, and he wasn’t sure when Gramlithyn had disappeared from the festivities.
A hand landed on his back, and Pyxlevir barely avoided a shriek of fear as he turned to stare into the dark concerned eyes of the father he’d gained at age six.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Aristos said.
Pyxlevir managed a grin. “Are you sure? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned it. Here I was, an innocent little elf standing in a room by myself, only to be quietly ambushed by a centaur.”
“Please, what does Aris know about stealth?” Pyxlevir’s uncle Inachus scoffed as he strolled into the living room.
Aristos gave Pyxlevir’s shoulder a squeeze, then crossed his arms as he glared at his brother. “I spent far more hours in battle than you, Nacho, and I can adapt to all forms of combat.”
“Ancient history,” Inachus retorted. “Your skills have atrophied through centuries of peace.”
“I hope you are not suggesting the Council go to war so Aris can relearn the art of sneaking,” Kalthekor drawled as he joined them in the living room overflowing with streamers and balloons thanks to Pyxlevir’s overzealous family.
Aristos turned to Kalthekor and kissed him, caressing the cheek Fate had painted the day they bound their souls. An image of Pyxlevir and Gramlithyn at a matebond ceremony of their own flashed into his mind, and the thought pleased him. Was that what he truly wanted? Was it fair to yearn for it when Gramlithyn had made it clear for years that the last thing he wanted was his other half?
