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Sunder sighs, nodding his head. There’s a hint of something in those eyes I can’t put my finger on. They’re like a storm beneath, but of what? Hidden motivations, lies, surging emotions?
But what doIknow? I have shit judgment. I was actually starting to like him. Blinded by hormones, I guess. He complimented me, and I swooned like a gullible moron.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The apology startles me, and I look up to meet his gaze. I narrow my eyes, suspicious of the lack of argument from Sunder. I just shake my head, ignoring his remorseful tone. I feel the wall being built around my heart.
Fortify, Mira. Don’t let him hurt you.
I move to more important matters, not wanting to hear more.
“Why doesn’t Chroma flow between us?” I ask, half to Bobble Cat and half to Sunder.
Again, he shrugs. “Maybe because there’s no skin-to-skin contact.”
“We had lots of contact in the Dreamshare,” I say. Something dark flashes across Sunder’s eyes as his nostrils flare.
Bobble has always been so affectionate to me when I needed it most. I can’t imagine life without him, but he’s a cat.
A cat that’s a sexy man.
A man who is actually a faerie creature.
A faerie that’s a shapeshifter.
My fated mate, to top it off. Part of him, at least. My eyes flicker up to Sunder’s watchful gaze. Bobble stirs with a chirp, purring loudly.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” I breathe in his musky cat smell and scrub his neck in his favorite spot. “And I’m sorry I was stingy with the wet food.”
Again, his purrs pick up as if acknowledging my attempt to lighten the mood with some poor excuse for humor. A sudden horrible thought washes over me as I recount his words from our Dreamshare.
I was there, and I saw it better than anyone else in your life.
My mind races through flashing images of different intimate moments Bobble was witness to.
Forget all the unflattering nakedness and flatulence. What about all the times he followed me into the bathroom and sat on my lap while Old Faithful erupted, or the time I had that stomach bug and slipped in my vomit? How many times have I sucked pasta sauce off my sleeve?
“Oh god.”
I can’t take this kind of punishment right now, Brenda.
I hide my face in my hands, feeling nauseous. More images flash by of all the worst of my human behaviors. He’s seen Tim and I have sex. Ew. And what did he see of Tim while I wasn’t around? No wonder he was always so vicious with him. My face flushes with red hot embarrassment.
It’s self-centered to focus on that right now.
Think of him.
How much has he suffered? What’s it like being trapped in a body where you can’t talk to anyone for years? He must be so lonely. I stroke him as tears well up in my eyes again. The melancholy notes he played on the piano take a new meaning.
“I want to help him, but… do I have to have sex with a cat?” I sob. The tears come suddenly, a release of emotions that weren’t fully my own, as if Bobble is already a part of me. Sunder lets out a thunderous belly laugh that makes me smirk through my tears.
“That would be really… awkward. No, we’ll find a way to release him from this form.”
“How?”
“There is someone who might be able to help him.”
He trails off meaningfully. Let me guess, we have to have sex, so the bond snaps into place and then leave for Illuemera tonight to meet the person who can help Bobble. I clench my teeth, ready for the vile suggestion.
