Chapter 283: Thoughtless
GAHRYE - Human World
The library seemed to close them away from the world and Gahrye found he couldn't focus on anything but her.
"Kalle," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes?" she responded in kind.
"Are you aware of… mates? In the Anima sense? True Mates—people whose souls are tied together by the Creator? People who cannot help but love each other?"
She nodded slowly, biting her lip. Her cheeks reddened again, her scent warming, washing over him until he had to stifle the mating call again. "I might have… read some stuff about that, yes," she said, embarrassed. Why?
Gahrye turned in his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. She was so much smaller than him, sitting in the seat next to his, when he leaned closer, he loomed over her.
But she didn't recoil.
She didn't look nervous, or afraid.
She didn't look disgusted—or pitying.
Her pupils dilated and Gahrye inhaled to find the thread of desire in her scent again.
He swallowed hard. "Do you believe it?" he asked, his voice rough.
She nodded slowly. "I think… I think some people are meant to be together, even here in the human world. I think we just aren't as good at identifying who they are."
Gahrye held his breath. She didn't look away.
As he scanned her beautiful face, her soft skin, her shining hair, his heart thumped painfully, and he heard hers speed up as well.
That moment came back to him, when Elia had launched at him, when he'd thought his death was before him, the sheer anger he'd felt that he'd never gotten to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her the truth. But if she couldn't scent the link between them… how could he expect her to know? To believe?
Believing in True Mates was very different to having one presented to you, he was discovering. Was this how Reth had felt when he'd seen Elia in the Rite? Or was it different for everyone?
Reth.
Elia.
Gahrye blinked and sat up straight, turning back to the table.
Shit.
"I'm sorry," he said rubbing his hands over his face. "I'm just…"
Her scent was suddenly confused. Off balance. She started straightening books on the table, stacking them and lining up the spines. "It's been a big couple of days for you guys," she said hesitantly. She wasn't looking at him anymore.
"You have no idea."
"Was there something you wanted me—I mean, was there a reason you were asking about… about Mates?" she said, her voice halting and high.
He turned, instinctively, to look at her, measure her for pain or discomfort, to put himself between her and whatever might be hurting her.
Then, he realized it was him.
She glanced at him from the side when he turned, but didn't meet his eyes properly. Didn't lock in as she had a moment ago.
He recognized the expression, the scent. It was one the disformed had often in the company of normal Anima. That sense of certainty that the other person didn't approve, or wasn't being kind, but uncertainty about how to address it. Whether to leave, or ignore it, or…
Dear Lord, what was he doing to her?
She'd looked away again and was reaching for another book that he'd discarded, but he caught her hand before she got to it, and she froze.
When she turned her eyes up to meet his, they were wide and fearful… but a spark burned in them too.
His arm goosebumped. He was touching her. And she wasn't pulling away.
"Kalle… don't ever be afraid of me. Don't ever think I do not want you near. I will always want you near. I'll always want to know what you think, and why. Always."
She blinked, surprised. "Why would you care?" she asked, her voice too high.
Gahrye frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"
She spluttered a laugh and with her free hand, indicated him from head to toe. "Look at you! You're a god!"
Gahrye was genuinely confused. "I don't know what your books say, but I assure you, Anima are not gods. We are mortal, just like you. We are just diff—"
"No, no, that's not what I meant," she giggled and it sounded like a brook burbling over pebbles during spring and Gahrye's flinched with the beauty of it. "I meant you're hot as hell," she said, her cheeks blooming red. "Like, waaaaaaay out of my league hot."
Elia and Reth had used this term, too. He knew it meant that she measured him as attractive, desirable to mate, and for a moment, his heart sang and he wanted to feel smug. But… but females had mated him before just for fun. Had found him attractive—or thought his disformation a kind of rebellious kink that made them curious.
That wasn't what he felt for her.
That wasn't what he wanted her to feel for him.
"Hot is… good. You're… hot… also," he said uncertainly.
She snorted and he cut off. She was shaking her head.
She was shaking her head?
"You deny the truth?" he said, confused. He'd seen females be coy in this way before, inviting compliments, inviting males to demonstrate themselves, or compete with each other so she could choose. But Kalle didn't have the scent of those vixens that only sought to feed their own egos.
Kalle had the scent of truth.
"I don't know how things work in Anima," she said, her cheeks even redder. "But by human standards you're a ten. Hell, you're a twelve on the ten scale. I'm like a seven on a good day. We are not compatible."
He dropped her hand abruptly, cursing himself. He'd clearly misread this… these humans were confusing. He'd hit this with Elia more than once where he'd assumed her words meant one thing when they actually meant another.
Embarrassed, he turned back to the books. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"No, Gahrye, no, look at me." She had her hand on his arm again and was leaning in. "I didn't mean we couldn't be… good together. I meant… when others see us together they'll think you're too good for me. That you should be with someone more attractive than me."
"That's fucking insane," he snapped.
"It's true, though."
"Then humans are stupid… I mean, some of them," he added hastily.
She laughed. "There's no doubt about that, but it doesn't change the fact that you are far more desirable to others than me."
"I am disformed!"
"So? You're freaking Anima, Gahrye. You have no idea what you look like to… people like me. Like…" she flapped a hand back and forth between them. "There's just no comparison. At all."
He frowned and scented her again, to double-check. She really meant what she said.
Did that mean she believed it also?
Was this what the voices had meant when they said he couldn't have her without them?
Then he remembered.
What the hell had he been thinking?
She couldn't make the traverse. Ever. It would kill her.
And he had to make it. Was avowed to make it.
Vowed to protect the Queen, even with his life. Vowed to stand at her side as her Cohort until his death—or be killed if he tried.
He was on his feet and pulling away, removing himself from her scent, from her warmth. Her eyes widened and he saw the confusion and shock in them—the hurt. And he hated himself for it. But it wasn't fair to her. If she didn't feel what he felt yet. If she didn't have the senses to do it, to awaken that in her would be cruel when he could only ever abandon her.
"I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "You're being an amazing help and I'm just… babbling. I shouldn't… just ignore me."
She blinked a couple times and straightened in her chair. He pulled the books together that he wanted to look at more closely, but kept his eyes off of hers.
He couldn't stand the ache of it. "I think I should check that Elia isn't… back, then if she's still resting, we should go to this other library you mentioned," he said, clearing his throat. "I will try not to distract you again."
"Oh… Okay," she said uncertainly. "Sure. Just let me… um, yeah." And she was on her feet, and busying herself with pulling together the rest of the books he wasn't going to keep.
And she smelled sad.
Gahrye cursed himself. And he cursed the Creator for this sick, sadistic torment.
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