“I definitely do,” Gramlithyn assured him, setting his beer on a nearby coaster. “Is your plan to someday dethrone your father as both the Valzadari Chieftain and the leader of Elven D’Vaire?”
“Never,” Pyxlevir said. “That’s the last thing I want. But you know how that goes. Elf chiefdoms follow bloodlines. If something were to happen to our parents, we’d have a big problem on our hands in addition to our immeasurable grief. I don’t think either of us wants to rule a tribe.”
“I’ve thought about it, and I think it’d skip me if something horrible happened to my parents…which, for the record, I definitely don’t want.”
“Gramlithyn, be nice to yourself.”
“No, listen. This isn’t me being a jerk to myself. I’m a hybrid. As chill as the Verdanyth are, I don’t think they’d becomfortable with a shifter as their ruler. That’s what I mean. I think Fate would select a new bloodline or some distant relative since my father was an only child. No elf tribe has a hybrid as a Chieftain.”
“Maybe it’s time they did.”
“Well, it damn well better not be me. I don’t want to be a Chieftain, and that goes double for taking over for my own father.”
“You’re right. I don’t want anything happening to Laconifel and Semira either, but it’s silly that no hybrid rules a tribe. The co-ruler of the dragons is half elven. Hybrids are too often undervalued. I hate that.”
Gramlithyn’s zebra whinnied with approval. “Does that mean you’d like me less if I were a regular old elf?”
“Probably, because you wouldn’t be the Gramlithyn I grew up with and am getting to know again.”
Gramlithyn surprised himself by saying, “I think my mom tried too hard to make me an elf growing up. I don’t think that occurred to me until right now. Why do I blurt shit out to you? She never gave me a choice about how I’d honor being both a zebra and an elf. My father was the Verdanyth Chieftain, and I needed to follow every tradition of our tribe. I had beast training, but otherwise, my shifter side went ignored.”
Pyxlevir rested a comforting hand on Gramlithyn’s knee. “You know I won’t judge you and we can discuss anything. Your mom was in an awkward position. She was the lone zebra in an elf tribe, but her mate is the leader. It couldn’t have been easy for her in the beginning. Maybe she still feels like she must fit in so she ensured the Chieftain’s son didn’t step out of line with tradition.”
“Yet you’re not a hybrid, and your parents took no issue with you wearing zebra beads—or whatever other pattern struckyour fancy—in your hair. You grew up acknowledging my zebra more publicly than I did.”
“True, but my father had already gone through being judged by his tribe for surviving the death of his mate, which shouldn’t theoretically be possible.”
“So, you’d think he’d want to be extra careful about ever stepping out of line again, but he didn’t. He let you make the choices that were right for you, regardless of ancient tradition.”
“My father told me I was an elf, so whatever I did was elven tradition.”
“I’m an elf, but I’m also not an elf. Frankly, it’s easier to be stared at for being a pointy-eared guy in jeans than being expected to adhere to a culture that represents only half of me.”
“Then I’m grateful that time away from Vegas gave you the freedom to discover that about yourself because what I want most is for you to love and believe in yourself.”
Indescribably moved by Pyxlevir’s words, Gramlithyn lifted his chin with his finger and pressed a soft kiss to his pliable mouth.
“Thank you, Pyx. Someone else would be pissed at me and find it impossible to see any positives in my decision to leave, but not you. I’ve asked myself from the beginning what I did to be picked for your mate, and I still don’t know how to answer 1that question.”
Pyxlevir grinned. “I bet you sometimes wondered why Fate was so cruel.”
Dropping his hand to Pyxlevir’s waist, Gramlithyn settled against the back of the couch and returned the elf’s smile. “Because I was afraid you’d hate me.”
“Why would I ever hate you? Even if I didn’t want to be your mate, that doesn’t mean I’d go immediately to dislike.”
“To have that spell cast, we have to be indifferent to one another. I’m capable of many things, but it’s difficult to imaginea time when I don’t have feelings for you. It’s probably way too soon to be saying shit like that to you. I should probably keep that to myself, yet here I am spilling my guts again.”
“Why do you think I agreed to move in with you?”
Gramlithyn shrugged and rubbed his thumb over the layers of silk covering Pyxlevir. “You were raised a traditional elf, and despite my choices, you weren’t going to throw your tribe’s traditions away. It was important to you to either make this work or walk away without a stain on your conscience. Which is fair. Better than I deserve, especially if you consider that I basically told you we had to live together to dissolve our matebond. I have to be honest. That was a fucking lie. This is going to be hard to believe since I ignored you for a month after moving in here, but my goal was to convince you to give me a real chance. The one thing I’ve never wanted was to have our matebond dissolved. I’m sorry if that’s too much to hear or if it’s stupid to admit that now.”
Pyxlevir scooted closer to Gramlithyn and caressed his cheek. “Thank you for telling me that. I moved in hoping we could rebuild our friendship. You were the mate I wanted then, even when I was afraid to ask Fate to make you my other half. I’ve had my doubts. I can’t deny that. You left, and I wasn’t sure if you’d ever give me a fair shot. But I wasn’t going to let you go without a fight. I believed that all we needed was the time to talk and rebuild what we lost. That’s what I wanted. Thankfully, it’s also exactly what I’m getting.”
“I don’t deserve you. No one does.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m being nice right now.”
Gramlithyn wrapped Pyxlevir in his arms and grinned as the elf flung a leg over Gramlithyn’s hips. Their mouths met. Pyxlevir’s fingers tangled in Gramlithyn’s hair. The scentof carrots grew stronger, and Gramlithyn’s zebra snorted with pleasure. Gramlithyn’s heart thudded in his chest.
