ZOHR

I wake up later that night and realize that my Emma is gone. She is not at my side.

Fear and panic flare through me, but with one quick sniff, I realize her scent still hangs in the air. Where is she, if she does not sleep with me? I get to my feet, stiff and aching. I have tried to hide from Emma just how much my wounds hurt and how badly my shoulders burn, as if my wings themselves are aching despite not having them in my two-legged form. It is an intense pain, one I fear will not be leaving anytime soon.

But I can endure it, as long as I have my Emma.

I pace through the strange nest that she calls an “apartment,” following her scent. There, in one of the back rooms, she huddles on a strange flat seat, blankets pulled tight around her. Her back is to the wall and next to her, she holds a knife. Always prepared, my mate.

I do not understand why she has abandoned me, though. I study the place where she sleeps, and there looks to be room enough for me to slide my larger body next to hers. I get down next to her and she immediately clenches the knife, jerking awake. I cover her hand with my larger one, stopping her before she can bite at me with it. It is me, Emma.

“Oh. You scared me.” She yawns, and then her brows draw together. “What are you doing up, Zohr? You should be sleeping.”

I will, now that I am next to you again. Why did you leave?

She moves over and shrugs before lying down again. “Didn’t want to disturb you. You’re still wounded.”

You never disturb me, I tell her, and put my arm around her, pulling her closer. You are my mate.

She hesitates for a moment, then relaxes in my arms, drifting back off to sleep. Yeah, but that’s only temporary.

Temporary? I ask, stunned.

But she is already drifting off to sleep once more. There’s a brief thought of us going our separate ways soon, and then she is dreaming.

I do not sleep, though. My back screams with agony and feels hot, but it pains me less than my heart. She is leaving me? She will not stay?

I think about what she has told me. Nothing’s ever permanent in the After. I remember her thoughts, her stories about Jack and how he taught her to be independent, to count on no one. I think of her startled realization of how deeply we were connected in our minds and how it unsettled her.

Did she think that by mating me, she would help me escape and then leave? That it would be nothing more than a momentary connection that could be easily severed?

In her sleep, she turns her back to me, and I realize that it is exactly what she thought. That when she mated to me, she thought she was offering assistance, not her heart.

I am stung and insulted. Am I not worthy of being her mate? She has given no indication that she finds me displeasing. Even now, the soft braid she made of my hair reminds me of how she takes care of me. Her thoughts were full of pleasure at the sight of it. She likes my appearance. Her thoughts when she thinks of mating are not of fear or revulsion, but shyness.

Does she not truly realize that I gave her my heart the moment I gave her my fires? That her spirit is now connected to mine and we will never be separated? That if she dies, I die, too? 

But this is Emma. Fierce, independent, strong Emma, who had a sibling who betrayed her, and parents and a mentor who all died. No wonder she thinks she is better off alone, that she can depend on no one but herself.

My heart aches for my mate, that she is still so lonely.

I can demand that she sleep next to me every night. I can demand that she give me her body. I can push my thoughts into her mind and sift through her memories. It is my right as her mate. But how can I make her need me? How can I make her want me?

How do I make someone as independent as Emma not resent the bond we have together? How can I make her see that our spirits joined makes us both stronger?

This is not something that has ever occurred to me. When a drakoni gives his fires, it is after a long courtship battle with a female. She is subdued, angry but proud at a male that is strong enough to vanquish her. It is an honor to receive a male’s fires. She knows the bond between them will be for life and that there will be companionship and joy…and young.

Perhaps things are different with humans. Emma’s thoughts indicated that she did not expect to find a mate. I am the first one that has touched her, as well. Pride and fierce joy at the reminder rush through me, and I pull her small body against me. She is mine and mine alone.

My mate murmurs in her sleep, shifting, and she finally turns and curls against me. I stroke her hair with my claws, thinking.

I must find a way to make her realize that we are right together. That she will need and want me after we are both safe.

That she will never escape me.

And that she will never want to. But how do I convince someone so used to being alone of such a thing? She has to want to be with me.

She has to want to come to me. I cannot push her.

I continue to stroke her hair, troubled. I have much to think about.