Chapter Twelve
Trunk
The question hangs in the air between us.
I could lie or deflect, buying myself more time to figure out how to handle this. But I’ve never lied to her and I’m not going to start now.
“Yes.”
Her breath catches. She sits up fully, the covers pooling around her waist. “Yes? Since when?”
I force myself to sit up too and face her properly. This conversation deserves that much. “Since the med lab. The moment the tech said your fertility was restored, I inhaled. And your scent was different.” I hold her gaze. “You’re compatible. You’re my Bride.”
“But you told me I wasn’t.” Her brow furrows. “On the path that night, you said?—”
“I told you the truth then as I knew it. You weren’t compatible, according to your scent. I believe your infertility wasmasking the bond markers.” I take a breath. “You were always mine. Your body just couldn’t tell me.”
She’s quiet, processing this. Her fingers twist in the dark fabric of the covers.
“I was confused from the moment you arrived,” I continue. “I scented you and the answer was no. But everything else said yes. I felt protective towards you and I soon realized I didn’t want you to leave. And I wanted to be near you constantly.” I shake my head. “Xylan don’t feel this way about females who aren’t their mates. It made no sense.”
“So you were... stuck?”
“Caught between two truths. My nose said no. Everything else said yes.” I meet her eyes. “It was maddening.”
She tilts her head, studying me in the soft blue glow of my crystal. “And now you know.”
“Now I know. I could always scent your arousal, though.”
“You... you could smell my...?” She sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh no. Oh gods.”
“Every time we were close. Every time you looked at me.” I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my mouth. “Even when I slept on your floor.”
She groans and covers her face with her gloved hands. “This is the most embarrassing moment of my life. I thought I was being so subtle.”
“You were not subtle.”
“I was! I was very subtle!”
I grin. “You were not. But do not worry. I was flattered that a female of your obvious worth would want to pleasure mate with a Xylan who’d said he didn’t trust journalists.”
“I’m going to die.” She falls back against the pillows dramatically. “I’m going to die right here in your bed. From embarrassment.”
“Please don’t. I’ve only just found you.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
She lowers her hands and looks at me seriously, all traces of humor gone from her face.
“So what happens now that we know that you want me and I want you? What happens next?”
I sober immediately. This is the part that matters. “Well, right now I remain dormant. Even though your scent lights up my protective instincts, I cannot become enflamed until we clasp bare hands. And when this occurs, the claiming fever starts. It’s immediate. There’s no stopping it once it begins.”
“What does enflamed mean…?”
“Awakened.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “All Xylan are celibate until they clasp hands with their confirmed mate. But once we touch — bare skin to bare skin — the mating hormones will flood my body and I will need to claim you immediately. The fever is overwhelming. Primal. I won’t be fully in control.”
