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“It is hot,” I agree, “but that is because you are sick.”
“You’re telling me.”
I am telling her. “It is the mate sickness,” I say. “Your body is in need—”
Under her breath, barely listening to me, Hope mutters, “Trust me, I know what it needs. That’s why I invited Jake over.”
Jake. The other male.
Swallowing my jealousy, I move toward her. When she doesn’t move away, I ease down onto her bedding with her.
“Take my hand. This should help.”
To my surprise, Hope doesn’t even hesitate. Snatching my hand, she clings to me, sighing in relief the moment our skin touches.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “Holy shit. That’s so much better.”
“I thought it might help. Though, if you’ll allow it, a more… intimate touch should ease you even more.”
“Intimate?” she echoes. “You know… let’s just do this for now.”
Of course. “Anything for you, my mate.”
“You keep calling me that,” she says after a moment. “Last night, too. What… when you say ‘mate’, what do you mean?”
Ah. I have her essence, but she doesn’t have mine. So she doesn’t know…
“Mate. My…” I search her essence for the proper word. “My wife.”
Her eyelids flutter as she makes a harsh noise in her throat. “I’m sorry.What?”
Was that the wrong word? “What do you call a partner that one mates with, procreates with, and loves with all their heart? So much so that they choose to be together for the rest of their existence?”
“Uh.” Hope exhales, but she doesn’t release my hand just yet. “I guess ‘wife’ works, but why in God’s name do youIam your, er, mate?”
“Because the gods gave you to me. You were fated to be mine.”
“How do you know that?”
I gesture at our intertwined hands, her small white fingers nearly lost in my much larger red ones. “Because, if you were not, my touch would not ease your mate sickness.”
Before, when I told her it was the mate sickness, I don’t think she was paying attention. This time? She does—and she immediately drops my hand.
“Did you do this to me? Make me sick like this?”
There is no denying that this is my fault. “I’m so sorry, my mate—”
“Mate,” she says weakly.
“—but I never intended to make you ill. I vow it.”
She glances up at me, her pretty blue eyes so dull, yet so charming. “Wow. I… I actually believe you. Whatever you did to me sucked, but you… you wouldn’t hurt me. I really do believe that.”
I am glad she does. From our bond, I can sense that she means everything she said… but I can also tell that my Hope is struggling to understand just what it means to be my mate.
If only she were a demoness from Soleil. I wouldn’t have to explain mate bonds and forever… but if shewerea demoness from Soleil, she wouldn’t be my Hope.
I never want her to doubt me. All I want is to show her that I am the proper male for her and I think I am failing.
