She practically exploded. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Until you ask for it. Agreed.”
“Excuse me but I wasn’t conducting a bargain. And I don’t appreciate you harassing me.”
He took on a patient tone as he said, “I am discussing it with you. If you don’t want to talk about how you’ll be tearing stripes into my back, then we can change the subject.”
“Hell yes. Change the subject.”
“What would you prefer to discuss?”
“How about the fact that you seem intelligent until you open your mouth and claim to believe in a god?”
“Goddess,” he corrected. “Karma, the embodiment of chance.”
“I guess you’re not a good disciple given your bad luck.”
“Bad how? I set out to find my sykyrah, and here you are.” He knew it would annoy her. He was right.
She stamped her foot. “I thought you said you would stop.”
“Talking about sex. This is fate and Karma’s will.”
“You should think about switching religions,” she growled. “Maybe find a new god or goddess who lets you make your own choices. Wouldn’t you like to fall in love the proper way?”
“Are you saying I haven’t?”
For a moment she gaped at him before sputtering, “How can you love a stranger?”
She asked an interesting question, which meant it deserved a well-reasoned reply. “Strangers only when it comes to cognitive elements. The understanding of personalities is something that takes time, conversation, and experiences created together. But that covers only the emotional aspect. Chemically, a proper match occurs upon meeting, instantaneously without need of words or even actions.”
“Fancy words don’t make it science.”
“Actually, they do, because we have the studies to prove the existence of a sykyrah bond. Do you think you’re the first skeptic?” There was a time when his people used to fight the sykyrah, wondering why they had to obey, especially when the bond struck between a pair belonging to warring tribes.
“Are you trying to tell me that people have managed to dissect these so-called matings? How?” she snorted. “Did they send out a survey and say hey, are you happy in your arranged marriage?”
“No need to have couples submit anything given a sykyrah bond is very noticeable, not to mention measurable on a few scales.”
“And because of some tests you’re going to claim instant love between people who never met before?” she challenged.
“That’s how it happens most often. The turning of a corner, the sudden meeting of eyes.”
“Then what? Lightning bolt?”
“It’s a jolt of something. It’s hard to explain.” He shrugged.
“But you felt it? With me?” she specified, making it obvious she hadn’t experienced the same.
“We wouldn’t be talking otherwise.”
“It’s one-sided only,” she stressed. “I don’t feel a thing.”
“You will,” he said with assurance.
Her lips flattened. “These sudden bonds, how many of them are successful long term? Do you have a lot of divorce?”
The definition was a foreign concept. “There is no dissolution of a sykyrah bond, ever.”
“What if the hubby turns out to be an abusive drunk? Or the wife cheats?”
“A mated pair would never harm each other.”
“If that’s true, then why do I want to slit your throat?”
“Want and do are two mightily different things.” He didn’t worry given she’d sheathed her knives. “I’m sure in time I’ll make you content enough you’ll just want to strangle me.”
“As if I’d ever be content,” she huffed, only to quickly correct herself by saying, “We’d never work.”
“Then we’d be one of the few couples to fail.”
“I thought you said there was no divorce.”
“There isn’t. The couples who fail simply aren’t sykyrah anymore.”
“Meaning what, instant annulment?”
“Call it as you wish. It’s rare and considered quite shameful.”
“How is it shameful? It’s practically an arranged marriage. Surely not every single couple is happy. That’s impossible,” she sputtered.
“The whole point of a sykyrah bond is the perfect meshing. Why would anyone be unhappy?”
“But how do you measure happiness?” she asked.
“You can see it. Feel it. The mating bond brings a feeling of wholeness.”
“I really hope you don’t think everything you’re saying is going to convince me to drop my pants, open my arms, and say, ‘Make me yours.’”
Her method of speaking took a bit of effort to understand as she implied things using different combinations of words. “It wasn’t meant to do anything but to provide replies to some of your queries.”
“I’m going to tell you right now that you and I”—she circled a finger to encompass them—“will be one of those that fail.”
“What makes you believe that?”
“Because I don’t like you.”
Not entirely true. He could read her scent, lacking any fear but hinting of intrigue. See it in her body language, as she was relaxed and even slightly provocative with her hip tilt and shoulders back. “Who said you had to like me? We are sykyrah.”
She gaped at him. “That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
The word filled his head with a meaning he didn’t entirely grasp. It defined it as intimate gestures toward a mate or person of interest meant to soften their emotions and even entice into copulation.
It was an entirely foreign concept in some respects, mostly because the expectations behind it were just something that occurred naturally between mated couples. Part of the magic of finding a mate.
“The bond is more than romance or love. It is about balance and complementing.”
“You want someone to tell you how wonderful you are?” she drawled sarcastically.
He shook his head. “You are mistaken. I don’t mean to give praise. A truly mated pair are like two distinct pieces that interlock together to form something better.”
“You’ve just described soulmates.”
“Yes.” This was a term he understood.
“Is that why you are so keen on finding yours?” She eyed him, and her lips pursed. “You know, if I ignore the tail and eyes, you’re a good-looking guy.”
“Your praise overwhelms,” was his dry reply.
“Just meaning you should be able to find a chick that isn’t me.”
“There will be no other females. You are the one for me.” It might have emerged a tad more ominous than expected.
Belle sure reacted as if it were a threat. She wagged a finger. “I am not the other piece to your puzzle, dude. You and I are like oil and water.”
An expression he understood. “Even oil and water can be frothed to make something light and new.” His tail weaved and drew her gaze.
She stiffened. “This has been interesting, but I need to go.” She turned to walk away.