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“You are an imp who is going through his invincible stage. No, I don’t trust you.”
Alexios’s smile chilled as he tossed his braid back over his shoulder. “Well, I do appreciate your directness. Will you at least tell me whether or not you plan to visit her tonight? You know, now that you’ve recovered from the breakdown you had yesterday?”
Pollux’s stomach tightened at the very idea of visiting Kassandra if she dreamed tonight. Truthfully, every cell in him wanted to make sure she was okay after this afternoon. He had completed the human marriage ritual. She’d accepted the kitten—even though he could not presently fathom why. He’d stocked up on kitten food. He’d built a tiny kitten palace in the back room. He’d anticipated making his intentions immaculately clear, then taking care of the symbol of his affections until Kassandra was ready to accept them and marry him.
He’d not even gotten a chance to verbalize that she was his soulmate before his brain turned to soup in his skull. Not only that, earlier this evening, she’d run off before he’d had a chance to talk to her alone and try again. He was not faring optimally. Even though both he and Andromeda were maintaining human forms in her presence, he had been so startled by her acceptance of his marriage kitten, he’d nearly shifted back into the appearance he’d come to be comfortable in around his friends.
Did she already know everything about him?
Despite her partial humanity, she was crying sand.
Perhaps she could feel the tinge of her fae heritage. Perhaps she knew, instinctively, everything his tongue tied around when she undid him at the seams. It wouldn’t surprise Pollux if a sandman remained uncontained even within a mortal vessel.
If she could knowingly access her powers in spite of her human flesh…or, worse, if she was unknowingly using them…
Pollux didn’t want to think about how Cael might respond for the sake of everyone’s safety if she were unaware and unable to control her magic.
“Pollux?” Alexios prompted.
“I don’t want to talk about this, Meda.” Pollux clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and said, “Xios. I meant Xios.”
Alexios hummed and ignored the slip. “I’d like to know why you’re babying your mate. Hiding your real self from her, even. It’s not that bad. What’s wrong with red eyes and sharp teeth?”
Pollux sighed, heavily. “You have never seen my real self, Xios. It is more than red eyes and sharp teeth.”
“Well, well. The plot thickens. How terrible is it? Are we talking Kyo from Fruits Basket level?”
“I don’t know how to interpret what you just said…”
Alexios chuckled. “Right. Pardon the anime residue. I swear. My genetics are the most condemning amalgamation… Plainly, how terrifying are you as your real self?”
“Please respect my wish to not talk about this, Xios.”
“I steal emotions, Pollux. Ignoring boundaries is in my very DNA.”
Pollux fit the slide beneath his most powerful microscope and hoped not too many of his own cells had contaminated the sample. He wished he’d had a sanitized pipette. Or…now that he was thinking about it…maybe that would not have been better.
While scientifically ideal, emotionally it likely would have been troubling for Kassandra.
Was she doing well?
Should he see her tonight?
Did he dare cross that threshold now that they were married in accordance with her culture?
If he saw her in the privacy of her dreams, he may be entirely unable to keep himself in check, and he would prefer they be married in accordance with both their cultures before he dared do any of the things his mind often wandered toward where she was concerned.
Also, what if the form his body took in the dream plane—his natural self—didn’t appeal to someone raised human?
Humans fought entire wars over their differences.
Hatred came so easily to so many—human and fae alike—but in some ways, it seemed as though the humans had perfected it, practicing ways to justify it.
Kassandra already despised him for reasons she didn’t seem open to admit.
What if her justifications bore validity?
What if Andromeda had mentioned what they were and what they did, and she despised him for it? Maybe that was why she’d been so aggressive when they first met and she asked about his job. What if she’d wanted him to confess to his own crimes then, and she was holding the fact he hadn’t against him now? What if seeing him in his full dream eater disgrace solidified her distaste? She had accepted his marriage kitten, but perhaps he was missing a human nuance. What if accepting a marriage kitten in the middle of a proposal actually meant the exact opposite of yes?
