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He didn’t, though, which proves how much he values me and the potential child growing inside of me. We aren’t just breeding stock to him. I’m his lover, his companion.
So why won’t he even look at me now?
I trace my fingers gently across the horns on his head, thoughtfully. Finally, I just come out and say it. “Is something wrong?”
“What?” he says. The glazed, cloudy look leaves his eyes. They sharpen, coming to focus on me.
I repeat myself, altering the question slightly. Obviously, something is wrong. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” I try again.
His face darkens. Something flashes across it, but it’s gone before I can put my finger on it, make sense of what it is. It’s so fast that I almost think I could have imagined it, except for the lingering, uncomfortable sensation that it leaves behind.
It’s a general, creeping uneasiness. I can’t define or explain it, but it settles into my chest, refusing to budge.
“It’s nothing,” he answers, shaking his head. I frown a little, wishing that I could believe him. But that knot, that little ball of dread, does not relent.
“It’s nothing, huh?” I ask skeptically. I’m wary of pushing him too far, too hard, too much. Volikan is too temperamental, and I don’t want to completely ruin the evening.
Even like this, it’s not entirely horrible. Everything feels like it’s starting to slide sideways, leaving me a bit disoriented. And yet, being with him is still better than being without him.
I don’t want to push him away completely. I just want to know what’s wrong. And that’s why I know I must tread lightly.
I eye him expectantly, hoping that he’ll admit whatever is really on his mind. But he just looks at me with a smug smirk, his face clearing.
“Yes. It’s nothing,” he replies confidently. His expression is a far cry from the dark, distracted look he wore just a few minutes before. I can almost convince myself that I had imagined the whole thing. That everything is fine.
He wraps his arms around my waist, swinging me gently to the side. I giggle as he pushes me down into a laying position, and leaps agilely to his feet, squatting on the couch beside me.
He narrows his eyes playfully, his hands sliding up my side as he leans closer. They skim over my skin, making me giggle and squirm when he accidentally tickles the narrow of my waist.
He ends by finally gripping my wrists, gently pinning my arms up over my head. Laying himself down over top of me, draped across my body, he nips at my earlobe.
The sensation makes me giggle again, but this time it’s more of a nervous reaction, every nerve in my body lighting up at the touch.
“What’s so funny?” he whispers in my ear. There’s a certain weight to the words, his voice low and gravelly. I swallow hard, shivering reflexively.
“Nothing,” I manage to croak out, feeling his hard length pressed into the side of my hip. My breath comes in short little gasps, already anticipating what will come next. I don’t think it will ever cease to amaze me, how he can make me unravel with the simplest of touches. He’s done almost nothing, and I’m already coming apart.
His tongue snakes out, licking across my earlobe. I shiver again, a gasp escaping me. He presses his lips firmly against mine, swallowing the sound.
Pretty soon, I feel as though I could melt, shapeless, into the sofa. I giggle and squeal as he teases my body, almost forgetting his strange behavior earlier.
Except for that worried, tense little knot in my chest that never completely goes away.
112
ANASTASIA
I wake up late the next morning. “Good morning,” I say reflexively, the way that I always do. No answer comes.
I turn on my side, noticing that Volikan is already out of my bed. Officially, we both have our own rooms. But the distinction between them has become blurred lately, and last night he fell asleep beside me, as he often does. I’m used to greeting him every morning when I wake, and seeing him beside me waiting patiently for me to rouse.
I can’t help but wonder if he snuck out in the middle of the night, or simply woke up earlier than me. Either one is possible, and perhaps I’m reading far too much into an innocent act. But that little knot of worry throbs inside of me, demanding to be noticed.
I slide out from under the blankets, feeling a jolt through my body when my feet touch the cold stone floor. Walking over to the window, I gaze outside. The sky is stormy, as always.
Maybe the weather explains my strange mood lately. I’m still not used to these constant clouds. Volikan asked if I missed Protheka, and I told him no, but it felt like a half-truth. I’m happiest to be with him, but it’s never felt quite like home here.
Volikan feels like home. But Galmoleth does not.
