Page 137 of Alien God

“That something tied you to me. That you would be mine. I was stupid not to see it then.”

“I don’t know if that’s fair,” I offered. While he’d made some pretty terrible choices when it came to how he’d handled me, I felt a sudden need to defend him. “You found me as part of a colonizing, invading force in your world after going through a ton of your own stuff with Skalla. You were enraged and hurting when you found me. You didn’t starburn, you didn’t feel a mate bond. I don’t think you could have predicted we’d fall in love just because of the colour of my eyes.”

“Perhaps,” he said slowly. “I wonder, sometimes, about the starburn. The stone sky mate bond.”

Insecurity pinched me. Was he second-guessing this? If he changed his mind, wanted to go find his true mate now, I knew with a searing pain that I’d let him. Because it would save him, even if it destroyed me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, but barely. “What do you think about it?”

“I wonder how that bond could ever possibly eclipse what I have grown to feel for you.”

Oh.

“If I had not been asleep, away for so long, I wouldn’t be dressing you in silk and lace to go see the other gods. I’d be tearing that beautiful dress right off of you before you could take a single step.”

He sighed, as if he regretted the circumstances deeply.

“But as it is, we must go. I need to speak with other stone sky gods. The only ones I’ve seen in eons are Skalla and Maerwynne, and Skalla wasn’t exactly in the conversing mood.”

Right. It was a reminder of our duties, of the people relying on us. We needed to keep going – go to the gathering, and get Wylf on the council – to find the human women and hopefully help Skalla’s mate, assuming she was still alive.

“What are you going to do when you find Skalla, after you’ve joined the council?” I asked. Wylf had mentioned lately that he had a feeling Skalla might be back on his mother’s homeworld of Bohnebregg by now. But even if Skalla was there, Wylf wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him or confine him without the power of other stone sky gods. He’d already almost died – twice – trying to beat his berserker cousin. “Are you going to kill him?”

“I’d rather not,” Wylf said. “Though he has caused immeasurable and perhaps irreparable harm, he is still Skalla to me. My cousin and my oldest friend. At least, I hope he is, somewhere in there.”

I folded the mask and dress into my arms and leaned forward, pressing my cheek to my husband’s chest in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. I understood Wylf’s need to keep Skalla alive. Skalla was someone he’d known and loved throughout his immortality. He was his father’s brother’s son, someone he’d grown up with. Someone I knew he still longed to save if he could.

“I understand,” I said. “He’s your only remaining family. Of course, you don’t want to kill him.”

Wylf’s voice grew stern, maybe even angry, with reproach.

“Skalla is not my only family.”

He grasped my shoulders and pushed me back so that I was forced to look into his serious face.

“You are my family now, Torrance. You are my wife. And I hope you know that if it ever came down to choosing between you and Skalla, between you and anyone else, it would be you. Only you, beloved. Every single time.”

He pulled me back to his chest, closing his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. I sniffed, then gave a shaky laugh. “I better get into this dress before I cry all over it.”

“Yes... yes, we should go.” His arms didn’t seem to agree with his words, and I had to pull myself away to get changed. As I peeled off my grey dress and slipped into the perfectly fitted black silk, I watched my husband as he prepared to leave. He apparently didn’t feel the need to change. The only thing he did was strap a long, shining sword to his back.

“Is that Sionnachan?” I asked, finger-combing my hair with one hand, the mask in the other. “The sword.”

“No,” he said. “It was my father’s, and it was forged by his father’s mother’s people, the Katanari.”

I paused, waiting to see if he’d continue, but he didn’t. A new tension had entered his wings and shoulders, and I wondered if wearing the sword, or maybe me asking about it, bothered him for some reason.

I decided to drop it, changing the subject.

“Care to help me put this on?”

I dangled the mask between us.

“Of course,” he said. He walked to me, coming in behind me, and tied the lace ribbons deftly at the back of my head. When it was done, I spun around, smiling.

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