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I’ve met enough humans to know that their eyes don’t glimmer like ours, and that the color is just a color. But my female… I want to know everything about her—and that begins with seeing what color her eyes are.
She doesn’t stir for a few moments, but when she makes the most adorable snuffling sound as she does, similar to one I heard from the ungez, I hold my breath in anticipation and wait.
Taking mercy on her male, she comes to quickly, rising up enough that she can glance around the dim shadows that fill her space.
Her eyes land on me.
My heart leaps to see that they’re the same shade as Duke Haures.
“Beautiful and powerful,” I whisper reverentially. “As if I had any doubts that you were born to be mine.”
She frowns, her smooth forehead furrowing. Then, in the human language I don’t yet understand, she says, “Isomm wondere?”
Her glaze slides away from me.
Hm. Am I too hidden in the lingering shadows for her to locate me?
I try to shift to my solid form so that she can’t miss me—and that doesn’t seem to work, either.
How odd.
“It is I,” I tell her in Sombran, raising my voice more as I drift toward the side of her bedding. “Sammael. Your one true mate.”
Leaning up on her elbow, she runs her fingers through her soot-colored hair. She’s squinting into the shadows, and for a moment I have hope that she sees me until she yawns and shifts against her bedding before lying on her back.
“Ograte. Mseein tings’gain,” she mumbles, more to herself than to me.
Because she… she’s not talking to me. For some terrible reason, she has no idea that I’ve joined her in her quarters.
Then, turning on her side and suddenly reaching out, she shoves her hand right through me as though I am not here and I have to admit that my suspicions are right.
Gasping at the intrusion, I’m too stunned to react. This… this isn’t common. As a shadow, the edges of my form aren’t solid at all, but no matter how I appear, no one should be able to move through me like she just did.
And then she does it again.
She’s holding a glass-covered rectangle in her hand now. She must have reached through me to grab it from the wooden stand at my back. Tapping it with her dull fingertip, she squints at the rectangle.
“Stillave anower toosleep,” she murmurs before tossing the rectangle down on her bedding, closing her eyes before it even falls.
“My mate,” I call, desperation having my rumble come out as a pained cry.
There’s no reaction from her, though a shout like that should have been enough for anyone in the room to hear.
Not my female.
She cozies up with her covering, sighing peacefully as she returns to her slumber.
Because… because she can’t see me. She can’t hear me.
And I? I cannot touch her.
No matter how I try, I stay transparent. My solid form is still gone and so, it seems, is my magic. I wave my see-through hands, gesturing with my claws, pleading with as much essence as I can spare to open a portal to bring me back to Sombra… and nothing happens.
I don’t want to leave my female. But I need to return to Sombra to figure out how to reverse what the spell has done to me because, otherwise, she will neverbemy female—and, yet, I cannot.
It’s as though I’m closed off from my home world, a mournful demon who found his true love only to have the promise of his mate thrust in front of him, then taken away just as quickly.
I found her, but she does not know. In this form, as she proved as she passed right through me, I cannot touch her the way a Sombran must to trigger our bond or begin an essence exchange… and all that means one thing.
