“Is it because I don’t know how to care for humans?” I snap.
The bitter words had been spoken by both her and my mother. They rang loud, and the vibrations burrowed in my heart. Of course, she wouldn’t want me.
But she shakes her head, and her lip wobbles. She throws a hand over her face, cowering the crook of her bloody arm.
“You told me you think I am playing a game!”
I shake my head as regret pricks my chest. “I was angry. I felt used. I didn’t understand—didn’t see how you were treated here.”
“And you do now?” she snarls.
I take a deep breath. “I’m starting to.”
“Your goddess made a mistake. I am not what you want.”
All the hurt inside me softens.
Her fears are my fears; they tied us together—inviting us to soothe the pain. How could I not reassure her?
“Can you lower your arm?” I ask quietly.
A deep, shuddering breath wracks through her shoulders, but then, her arm comes down.
Her eyes are red, and her cheeks glisten in the moonlight. Melisa stares at me like I should be running.
I’m not.
I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
“I’ve never seen you cry,” I murmur.
“Ra’Sa—”
“Melisa. He doesn’t own you. The bravery with which you face the world should be recorded for generations to come. You amaze me—you survive while the world crumbles.”
She looks at me like she'd continue to weep whether I touched her or walked away.
“You don’t know me.”
“I don’t know some of you. I see mysteries wrapped up in your eyes, but I know you are my mate. I know that you like music and care for your family. You are good with animals—so good that they eat from your hand. You pick up new skills quickly, fear blood, and memorize secret codes. Above all, I know you are stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, Enduar or human.”
Her pupils dilate.
“Fucking damnit. Why do you make me feel so safe,” she says through another shaky breath.
“Can I touch your face?” I ask carefully.
She closes her eyes. “Please.”
When I reach for her cheek, she flinches but doesn't pull away. Instead, her head pushes into me. Tears streak her face. She looks haunted and hurt.
I just want to help.
“Tell me what I can do,” I say.
“Hold me like you did that night in front of the fire,” she says, eyes blinking wide and eyebrows furrowed.
The words pierce my heart. She had been so fragile when her waking nightmare almost took her.To know that I could be there for her is the kindest gift.