Page 21 of Kenan's Mate
It’s a mournful song with string instruments, and in the background a female voice sings in the Kleaxian tongue. Though I can’t discern a single word, I know she’s sad. She’s lost something.
I’ve lost something. Well, not just something.
Everything.
Kenan moves to the doorway, pausing for a moment with his mouth open, as if he’s about to speak. But he quickly clamps his lips together and departs the room without another word. I wonder what he’d been about to say.
By the time the song ends, I’m almost in tears. The woman’s voice is so intensely heartbroken, and the accompanying tune of the strings so alluringly sorrowful, that I imagine she must have lost every last person she loved. I imagine she dwells in a darkness from which there is no escape, a darkness no light can penetrate. A place where all hope is dead.
More songs play, though none of them affect me as much as the first one. I stare at the sconces lining the walls, needing the illumination to ground me in reality. If I close my eyes, I think I’ll forget where I am, the music has carried me so far away from myself.
I think of the trendy albums on my phone, most of it rock or dance club music. None of those songs have ever carried me away like these Kleaxian compositions.
To think a race of aliens as barbaric as Kleaxians are capable of producing such wondrous music gives me a glimmer of hope. They aren’t human. But theyfeel. Theybreathe. Theybond. Theylove.
Oh my God.
Is that why Kenan is playing this music? To help me understand the intense mating bond he supposedly feels for me? I wish I knew. God, how I wish I knew.
I hug myself, overwhelmed by the possibility.
He returns to the sitting room, and the fierce possessive look he settles upon me makes my knees go weak. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I would collapse to the floor. He moves his hand over the clear box and the music ceases.
The abrupt silence is deafening.
“It’s time for dinner. Come.” He holds his hand out, waiting for me to rise up and accept it. The air between us crackles with tension.
After a deep breath, I stand on weak legs and reach for him. The moment our hands touch, his eyes flame with an urgency that makes my heart flutter.
I’m so preoccupied by the music echoing in my mind and Kenan’s reasons for playing it, that I float through dinner on a cloud. The food served is similar to last night, with a few different dishes.
“Did you enjoy the music?” he asks once the servants have cleared the table. We’re both sipping one last glass of wine, my second and his third.
I swallow hard. If I had use of my voice, I would tell him I’d never heard anything like it and thought it was beautiful, but very, very sad. I finally nod.
“It’s a collection of ancient Kleaxian folk songs.”
I long to understand the woman’s heartbreak, and I’m delighted when he starts to explain the music.
“The first piece was acalling song, a prayer female Kleaxians sing to call their mates home from war, whether they are alive or dead. In this particular calling song, the female suspects her mate has perished in battle, and she prays for his return so she can bury him by the sea they call home.”
Why did he want to share this particular music? His eyes gleam dark purple under the light of the chandelier. The music still echoes in the recesses of my mind, whispering of the depth of emotion of which his race is capable. Whispering that he’s not really a monster.
I pray the whispers aren’t lies, but I want so badly to believe in an ending that’s not tragic. I want to believe he’ll apologize for all the hurt he’s inflicted and vow to find a way to return me to Earth, even if it tears him apart because we’re mated. Maybe he’ll redeem himself completely and I’ll invite him to remain on Earth with me. Maybe…
Stop it, stop it, stop it.
What the fuck is wrong with me? How can I ever entertain the possibility of willingly remaining with Kenan? If I stay at his side, it’ll be as his captive and nothing more.
He rises from the table, so tall and forbidding and exuding raw masculine power, and rounds the table to pull my chair back.
I think he intends to hold my hand, but he instead scoops me up in his arms. His long dark locks tickle my neck. He smells divine, an intoxicating mix of earth, sea, and his natural male scent. I inhale deep breaths against his chest and shudder, as if he’s the drug I’ve been craving and I’m about to get my fix.
The world around us fades as he carries me upstairs. The echo of the sorrowful music lingers in the background, a testament to what could bloom between us if only I were able to accept his culture and his ownership. For now, I don’t want to think about it. The future is the future, and right now he’s about to kiss me, and I’m helpless to form another coherent thought.
He brushes his lips gently across mine as the bedroom door glides shut behind us. It’s sensual yet electric, this first kiss of ours. I don’t fight him when he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue inside to tangle with mine. He tastes like wine and the little sweetcakes we enjoyed for dessert.
What happens next isn’t rough. It isn’t violent. It’s the opposite of his first claiming in every way. Though his kisses are thorough and leave me breathless, his touches are tender and loving. He’d been in a rush to take me the first time, to seal his legal status as my bonded mate, and what happens next feels like the sweetest apology.
