Page 62 of Trove’s Purpose

“I never expected my soulmate to save himself for me. Not the way I was saving myself for him. You. But I can’t live sharing you, Trove. I can’t be one of those people. More power to them, I guess, but I’m just not capable of that. I want my One! I want us to be against the world. I want the ideal. The two people in love. The perfect fairy tale love story.”

“And you can’t have that with me.”

“I would never be enough for you,” she whispered, voice broken. “Not when you’re used to… everything. All at the same time. Every night. What if I have a headache one night? What if I’m not good at sex and I can’t please you? I’m competing with literal pros here!”

“Chee, there’s no competition.”

“But there is, and I’ve already lost!”

“Chee…”

“Just go. Do what Rinnicks wants.”

“I already told you that I won’t.”

“Why? She’s not good enough for you?” She asked mockingly. Because that female was absolutely gorgeous and powerful and wealthy. She had everything and she was offering to treat Trove like a king in return for sex. That was the kind of deal a male could only dream of.

“If you must know: No, she’s not enough for me,” Trove said, shrugging as he leaned back on his hands, stretching out one leg behind her. Almost like he was sitting her between his legs. All without touching her or having her move at all.

Chee’s arms and legs relaxed, and she sat with her legs folded, hands on her ankles, staring at the glowing sand as she debated moving away from or closer to Trove. She hated that she genuinely wanted to do both. If she could just decide to hate him, if she could just ignore him, this wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“Why won’t you accept her offer?” She asked numbly.

“I don’t want to.”

“Because of me?”

“I’m not going to say you have nothing to do with it.” He shook his head. “But I genuinely don’t want her.”

“Why not.”

“Too complicated.”

Chee finally turned, frowning at him with pursed brows. “Really? That’s your reason. Too complicated?”

“She’ll expect things from me I can’t give her.”

“She expects meaningless sex. Good meaningless sex, but meaningless sex nonetheless. How is that any different from what the brothel ladies expect?” She grimaced. “I guess the brothel ladies don’t expect the good part.”

“The females from the brothels don’t ask for anything,” Trove corrected. “I ask them. I set the expectations and services. They respond accordingly. That’s the difference.”

Chee let out a short, annoyed breath. “I don’t get it, Trove.”

He didn't respond immediately. Then, just a soft, simple, “I’m sorry.”

No explanation. No reassurance. Nothing. Just the soft beating of waves against the sandy shore and the distant laughter of people who weren’t sharing in their problems tonight.

For a moment, it seemed like Trove was going to talk. He took in a breath and she saw the tension in his jaw, like he was about to form words.

But then it was like his face just glitched. His muscles twitched, he grimaced, then all the breath he had gathered blew out again in a long, slow sigh of defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, this time with despair.

There were many reasons for someone to become hypersexual. That’s what Hyde said. And it wasn’t always that someone was just a horndog with no self-control who put physical pleasure above everything else.

The look on Trove’s face wasn’t one of guilt or sorrow. It was almost like frustration. Which didn't really make any sense. What was he frustrated about? Her? Himself? Maybe this situation? Maybe he was mad that she wasn’t giving in and becoming a mate that would let him do anything.

And while the pessimistic part of her brain screamed that must be it-