KYLLEN
Amira hid a yawn while cleaning the small table after their dinner. They’d had a long day, and she obviously was exhausted.
It's been tiring for him too. This new world proved overwhelming with its incessant noise, cold air, and foreign smells. The vehicles here, not powered by magic, produced stench and deafening rattle. Everything was generally loud and obnoxious, including people. Only the colors remained boring and dull.
“Time to get some rest.” He headed to the bedroom area.
Apparently, humans slept in beds—a rectangular one stood in the middle of the sleeping area. This wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him. Highborn werewolves in Sarnala lived in castles, constructed from rock and mortar similar to the human dwellings in this city, and slept in raised rectangular beds.
The bed was large enough for both of them to have a restful night. Amira remained standing by the couch, however.
“Is something wrong?” He paused.
“You go ahead.” She waved him off. “I’ll be fine here, on the floor…or the couch.”
Well, that wouldn’t do.
He sat on the foot of the bed, staring at her through the open doors. Without seeing her face, understanding her was difficult at times. “I’m afraid I need an explanation, sweet pea. Is it the bed or the idea of sharing it with me that repulses you?”
“I’m not repulsed… I’m just.” She wrung her hands, obviously distressed, which disturbed him greatly.
He wished to grab her into a hug and make whatever was upsetting her go away. Except that grabbing her might not be the best course of action in this situation. He risked distressing her even more, he feared.
“I don’t sleep in beds,” she said.
“Oh, I know very well how you sleep, dearest.” He got up and sauntered her way. “You spend a night next to me, while I tell you a story. Every now and then, I pause to make sure you’re still listening, and you ask me, ‘And then what?’ So I continue telling it to you until eventually all I hear is your deep breathing when you finally fall asleep.”
He came close enough for their toes on the carpet to touch, then lifted his head to see all of her up to her nose. She was biting her lip. When he touched her hand, however, she didn’t take it away.
“Tonight doesn’t need to be any different from all those other nights we’ve spent side by side, Amira.” He tilted his head. “Please don’t tell me you prefer I were in a crate.”
“No. No, I don't want the crate,” she protested passionately. “It’s just the bed… And the covers. I don’t use bedding. I need to keep my clothes on…” She reached for her shapeless pants on the chair.
“Who says you can’t keep them on?” He took the pants and handed them to her.
He would’ve loved to have her naked. The idea of her sleeping next to him without the wooden wall of the crate between them tickled his chest with excitement. To his delight, the sensation spread lower than his chest, too, this time.
A faint spark of lust had finally flickered low in his belly when he’d kissed her. It now glowed stronger, making his cock twitch. He finally felt hydrated enough to be fully a man, once again.
But tonight was not about his lust. He wished for Amira to feel comfortable around him just as she used to be when he sat in that stupid crate. And he was willing to wait as long as it took.
She taught him patience, something no one had ever been able to do before.
Amira clutched her pants to her chest.
“Come.” He led her to the bed. “Sleep dressed. On top of the covers, if you wish. I’ll definitely get under. It’d be too cold for me otherwise.”
She plopped down to sit on the bed. Keeping her head down, she quickly pulled on her pants and socks.
He sat beside her and bounced on the mattress a couple of times, testing its softness.
“This bed isn’t that comfy, anyway,” he complained. “Honestly, it’s probably not much different from the pile of rags you used to sleep on.”
A smile touched her lips. She placed a hand on the mattress between them. “It’s softer than anything I've ever slept on before.”
“Great.” He grabbed her legs and turned her, putting her feet on the mattress.
She squeaked, hugging her knees.
“There you go.” He crossed his arms over his chest, admiring the sight of her in his bed. “It’s not so bad, is it?”
She shifted, drawing her knees closer to her chest. “It’s alright.” She sounded calmer now, her posture more relaxed, which pleased him.
He realized he cared about this woman enough for his enemies to use her as a weapon against him. If Ghata sent her bracks after them, his biggest worry was them catching Amira. Because there was little he wouldn't do for her freedom and happiness.
Of course, he remained the biggest threat to her himself.
“Can I have your scarf, please?” he asked.
“What do you need it for?”