Page 30 of Total Lunar Eclipse
“I know, but it still hurts that she doesn’t trust me- trust us, to make a bond,”he rejoins mournfully.
“Give her time. As usual, I didn’t give our little Goddess of Love enough credit. All this time, I thought her unable to penetrate my mental barrier from her having access to my thoughts. There’s so much chatter constantly happening her head, I figured it was damn impossible for her to anything else. But in truth, she’s been reading me all this time; meaning, she tasted my devastating pain when I realized Jupiter and Sunny were gone. She’s afraid of losing us and never being able to fill the void inside herself.”
Saturn relaxes a bit, but then scoffs.
“Of the two of us, I should be more worried about her dying and leaving a hole in my heart than the other way around. That woman is a walking disaster. How she survived twenty-seven years on Earth is baffling and miraculous.”
I have no rebuttal because I’ve been thinking the same thing.
I reach out to Zahra and call her back.
It’s not safe for her to be roaming this dimension by herself.
Of course, she ignores me.
“I’m going to talk to her,” I grumble.
Fuck, I hate talking about my feelings, but I know I need to be the liaison right now.
For Saturn, I can be the diplomat.
Everyone thinks he has the monopoly on disciplined correctness, but I can be sensitive and tactful, too.
I find Zahra some distance off, sitting on a jeweled ridge. Her face is in her hands, and I cringe, praying she isn’t crying.
I’m not that tactful.
“I’m not crying,” Zahra’s voice reaches me.
Thank fuck.
“Zahra, you need to get over your aversion to soul bonding with the others. You’re just hurting them and you. In truth, we’re stronger when we’re bonded, not weaker. Ok? Ok. Let’s head back. Good talk.”
Zahra doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t move from her spot on the glittering rock.
Suddenly, her shoulders start shaking.
I watch in horror as her body convulses.
Dammit.
She’s crying.
I quickly rush over to her side and awkwardly pat her shoulder, but it only makes her quake worse.
At a complete loss, I attempt to verbally soothe her.
“There, there.”
More shaking.
Just when I’m about to call Saturn, she lifts her face.
In the dim light, I can see it’s streaked with. . .
Nothing.
Because she’s not crying.
