“Call me crazy, but reminders like that are helpful when you’re trapped in an alien’s tower,” I retorted.
“Reminders of how I could destroy you in an instant?”
“Reminders that you’re not going to kill me.”
He didn’t respond to that, instead thrusting the garment towards me.
“Put this on.”
“What is it?” I asked. It was too long and floppy to figure out what it even was. It just looked like a blanket to me.
Wylfrael fiddled with something I couldn’t see, then swept the fur behind me, settling it around my shoulders. His knuckles brushed my neck, making me swallow dryly, muscles contracting. The roiling columns of his irises shifted from his fingers to my throat, and a distinct tension entered the area around his mouth and jaw. He withdrew his hands and straightened, having had to bend over quite deeply to make up for the massive height difference between us.
“It’s a cloak,” I said, feeling rather stupid for saying something so obvious out loud. I reached up, feeling the silken ribbon that Wylfrael had tied in a bow at the hollow between my collarbones. The tied ribbon held the cloak closed at my shoulders, the garment flowing downward to pool around my boots in a soft circle of fur. I stroked the bow, slightly amazed that someone with claws and fingers as large as his had managed such a delicate task. The skin of my neck tingled where he’d grazed me, and without thinking, I traced the places he’d touched me. My fingertips ignited the echo of that skimming contact.
Wylfrael observed me silently, then, as if deciding rather suddenly to do it, he bent to me once more, his fingers returning to the area of my neck. My breath snagged, and my palm flattened to my throat in a protective instinct.
But he didn’t touch my skin again. Instead, he felt along the fur gathered around my shoulders, then pulled it upward. A hood framed my face, exceptionally soft fur tickling my temples and cheeks.
And then, silent as the very substances that made up his domain – snow, rock crystal – he stepped away and opened the door.
Clad in the clothing of his world, I went through it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Wylfrael
The storm had deposited a significant amount of snow around the castle. The huge pile left behind by my snow wall no longer looked out of place. Other huge drifts, like swells of a frozen sea, or dunes of a far-off desert, undulated over the land.
I raised my hand, beginning to clear a path forward. If it had just been me alone, I probably would have ploughed my way through it, thankful for the cold effort of the task. But the thought of Torrance trying to walk through, or climb over, drifts that came up past her shoulders, made my wings tense in irritation. She’d probably snap her ankle, or that ridiculous little neck of hers.
I refused to look back at her, at her neck. So pathetically skinny and breakable. So smooth-skinned and supple and warm, throbbing with her human heartbeat, constricting under my touch as if unsure whether to swallow, speak, or scream.
I did not need to look back to know she followed. Her footsteps made softly muffled sounds, and her human scent was close behind me, distinct in the crisp air, easily detectable even under the Sionnachan cloak. Her breathing, at first quick and shallow, grew deeper, more rhythmic.
She likes it out here.
That both pleased and greatly annoyed me. Or perhaps the annoyance was more from the fact that I was pleased at all. That I should feel any sort of satisfaction that this human, this prisoner, approved of the world she’d invaded.
“Do you have snow where you come from?” I asked.
I’m just gathering information about her people and planet as part of the interrogation, I told myself, pushing back against the possibility that I was curious specifically about her – her experiences, her life, and what she’d left behind.
She breathed in deeply, then out, before answering.
“Yes.”
I tried to strangle the instant feeling of kinship that single word had created.
“Do you like the snow?” I asked.
So much for strangulation.
I focused on swishing snow out of the way, on moving forward, so that I could not confront the idiocy of the question I’d just asked.
“Yes,” she said again. Something melancholic, maybe wistful, quieted her voice. “I love it.”
Blast it all into the stone sky.
Something in me was nearing desperation. Desperation to remind myself just how different we were. That not a single thing in her should be admired or shared or respected. That we had nothing, nothing in common.
Except she liked the snow. Loved it.
Just as I did.
I had no plan as we walked. I just kept moving forward, towards the treeline, concentrating on carving out the path. I wondered if I’d ever stop, or if I’d just keep going until dawn, Torrance trailing quietly behind me. It was only her sudden intake of breath, and some softly murmured word of surprise, that caused me to halt.
“What is that?” she asked. I followed her gaze to the open structure beside the barn. There was a single sontanna there, the same one I’d seen before. I wondered if we had more of them, taking shelter in the barn with the sotasha, or if this was the only one. I’d been so busy with Torrance and Skalla and Maerwynne that I had very little clue as to what was happening on my own estate.
But I could at least answer her question.
“It’s a sontanna,” I said.
“Can... can we go closer?”
There was something in her voice, some hushed wanting that made my skin feel hot and itchy despite the fact I had no vest or cloak. I regarded her closely, noticing she’d once again changed colour on me. Her cheeks were very, very pink, as was the tip of her nose. But there were no signs of discomfort that I could discern. Her eyes were luminous beneath the starlight, peering out from below the hood I’d put on her, fixed entirely on the sontanna.
I should deny her this.
I knew it. I knew that I should not continue to give way to her, to lose my grip. I’d already let her out of her room for this walk, and I knew I should not give her yet more things she wanted. I knew it, even as I turned my body and started carving a path towards the sontanna.
Torrance hurried behind me, her steps quicker than before, her body close to mine. Her fogging breath and body heat skimmed over my bare back and wings, a ferociously pleasant sensation that I simultaneously despised and ached for.
We reached the sontanna’s enclosure. I murmured steadying words to it, testing its training. It remained calm, and upon closer inspection of the size of its antlers, I concluded she was female. I’ll have to ask Shoshen her name as soon as I get the chance.
I patted her pink and silver neck, and she tossed her head contentedly.
“Any friends in there, girl?” I asked her. “A mate?”
I leaned over, glancing through an opening into the barn. All I saw in there were sotasha and a sleeping hunting hound. No mate, no foal. We’ll have to remedy that soon. Though she was large and strong, I could tell she was young. We’d need to find a mate for her soon. Though sontanna did not naturally live in packs, they were social animals, and they mated for life.