Long vines trail down the side of the buildings, their verdant shades a beautiful contrast to the grayscale stone. The wonder in my mate’s eyes makes me view the city through an entirely different lens, marveling at its beauty in a way I never have before.
“Can you go higher?” she asks.
I smile and then slip into another current, spiraling up toward the clouds. As we ascend, she studies the stars in awe.
“This is beautiful, Raidyn.”
As I regard my perfect mate in my arms, I could not agree more. She is the loveliest thing I have ever seen and I am honored the Gods fated me to this glorious female.
When we return to the house, I set us down gently on the balcony. She steps out of my arms and already, I miss the press of her body against mine.
“I love it here, Raidyn,” she murmurs. “It’s so peaceful. Like the perfect getaway from everything else.”
“I have always considered this a sanctuary,” I tell her. “I am glad that you like it, for it is just as much yours as it is mine.”
She lowers her gaze and I can see the indecision that wars inside her. She cares for me—of this, I am certain. But she is still unsure if she desires to be my mate.
I am a patient male. The Gods did not gift us the fated bond without reason. I am already hers and I vow that some day, she will become mine as well.
Chapter 12
Skye
Flying with Raidyn was amazing. Sharing this house with him… it’s like a beautiful dream. I never imagined such a sanctuary existed. The moon casts enough light that I’m able to navigate the small path through the gardens easily.
Raidyn leads me through the rose-like blossoming plants, explaining the meaning behind each variation and color. “This one,” he points to one with vibrant deep blue petals, “was a gift to my mother from the Water Clan after the signing of our treaty. And this one,” he points to a triangular red blossom striped with orange, “was a gift from Varus’ parents—the King and Queen of the Fire Clan—when we allied with their people."
“Is that normal?” I ask. “To gift plants?”
He studies me for a moment as if my question were strange. “Of course. Life is precious. To gift a living thing holds great meaning.”
What a beautiful philosophy, to hold life in such high regard, when most humans would consider a plant a simple gift. It is humbling, in a way, that Raidyn’s people place life above gems and precious metals.
The bubbling sound of running water drifts throughout the garden. A small waterfall spills over a rock formation in the far corner, feeding into a winding stream and ending in a pond near the back of the house. This garden feels almost magical, pulled from the illustrated pages of every fairytale book I read as a child.
I don’t even realize I’m holding onto his arm until he reaches out to pick a flower for me. Its petals are a light cobalt blue and I gasp, transfixed, when the bloom expands in my hand, releasing its delicate fragrance. “This is beautiful.”
His gaze holds mine as he gently tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. “It matches the color of your eyes.”
My face heats with warmth under his scrutiny. He touches his fingers lightly to my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he studies me intently.
“Your coloring,” he murmurs. “It has changed to a deeper shade of pink. Almost red.” He tips his head to the side. “What does this mean?”
Slightly nervous, I lower my eyes. “When humans do this, it means we are nervous or excited or,” I swallow thickly, “attracted to someone.”
He stills. “And… which are you now?”
I’m attracted to him. How could I not be? But I’m not ready to admit it just yet. I still haven’t worked through the rest of my emotions. I already know he wants me forever, but forever is a long time. And we’ve only recently met. My heart is aching to fall, but my head keeps insisting on caution.
Instead of answering, I change the subject, thinking back on all my romance novels. The very reasons I’m finding him so hard to resist. “Do Drakarians like to read?”
His lips quirk up at the edges and he leads me inside. A set of doors next to the kitchen opens to reveal a room I didn’t notice before. Scrolls line the walls of the room—a library just like the ones in ancient Earth history.
I’m surprised such a technologically advanced species stores information on parchment rather than electronically. I give him a curious look. “Your people keep records on scrolls?”
He laughs. “You make us sound primitive.” Shaking his head, he pulls a scroll from a nearby shelf. When he unrolls it on the large table in the center of the room, my jaw drops. A digital display scrolls across the parchment. He waves his hand over the screen and then flicks his wrist, causing the image to float in front of us.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he arches a condescending brow.
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t suggesting your people were primitive. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
The small smirk that twists his lips tells me he isn’t entirely convinced. “All of the information contained on these is easily accessible in a universal database,” he explains. “But my mother was sentimental and liked to have personal copies of everything she enjoyed reading. That is why all of these are here.”
I turn my attention back to the floating display and my expression falls. Strange glyphs and myriad symbols fill the screen. I can’t read any of it.
He senses my despair. “What is wrong?”
“I can’t make out this writing. And I
