Page 22 of Their Human to Entice

“Okay, and he is not keeping you entertained?” Toron looks around, almost looking offended on my behalf, which gets a huff of laughter from me. “Where is he?”

“They’re both on the farm,” I say, trying not to let the bitterness seep into my voice. It’s hard, considering Beren and Lyath were mooning over each other this morning when they brought me to the tribe.

There’s only so much sweet talk I can hear when no one is sweet-talking me. I’m starting to resent any time Beren offers his arm to me. Each time, I shrug it off, and he doesn’t even fight me on it. What’s even worse is I know he’s comforting me on nights when my nightmares wake us all.

I wake up from my nightmares, feeling the coolness of their scales on my skin. I can see the soft glow of the torchlight and hear their soft words. I’m never lucid enough to remember much of it. They never stay long, or I fall back asleep before I know if they’ve stayed for very long. Then, I wake up in the morning, get an eyeful of them cuddling in their bed, and I’m reminded of just how little of that I have in my life.

Toron tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes at me. Maybe I’d be more concerned with the look he’s giving me if I hadn’t already decided earlier that I have no more fucks to give. So, I raise my brows and lean my head in closer, one hand coming up in an ‘okay and?’ motion, waiting for him to say what he’s thinking.

“You asked me a question earlier that I think you should be asking yourself,” Toron says, his eyes flashing toward the great hall doors when they open. A smile spreads across his lips as he slides his eyes back over to me. “I could never ask you this question, or your mate might seal me. I do think you should at least ask it of yourself.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him with a shake of my head.

I try to think back over our conversation and any questions I asked him. Of course, he’s no help because he’s moving from the chair across from me and stalking back over to his mate. The young sitting next to her squeezes her hand tighter but smiles at Toron when he nears. He says something I don’t quite catch, jumping from his seat and offering it to Toron. Instead of taking the young’s seat, Toron lifts Alice from her seat and settles her in his lap. The young sits back down, takes Alice’s hand back in his, and then continues listening with rapt interest in whatever story Olivia’s telling them.

Beren and Lyath make a beeline straight for me, a smile on Lyath’s lips and the customary flat line of Beren’s mouth that I’ve come to call his happy face. Sometimes, he smiles at Lyath, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. Most of the time, he has a flat line of lips and a slight narrowing of his eyes. It’s like he’s always on edge and doesn’t know how to let go. Lyath, on the other hand, is never without a smile or a carefree attitude.

“What is my mate doing?” Beren says as he slips into the chair next to me. I don’t miss the heat in my cheeks or the way his words have butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Beren’s called me his mate since we mated, and every time, it makes me all giddy, even though I know he doesn’t mean it in the way I want him to.

Why aren’t you doing mate things with your mate?

I remember the question I asked Toron, and my eyes go wide. He knows that my mate is Beren. He implied he thought I was mated to both Lyath and Beren, but still, he knew I was mated to at least one of them. But if he knew that, why would he think I need to ask myself why I’m not doing mate things with them?

“Nia?” Beren asks, his hand softly cupping my cheek as he drags my eyes to meet his. “What is wrong?”

I open my mouth to ask him if he has any interest in females. I should’ve asked it days ago. Why didn’t I ask it days ago? I’ve spent this whole time assuming Beren and Lyath only want each other. If I really look back on our interactions, Beren’s been open to touching me, saying my name, and calling me his mate. Everything that I’ve seen these other demons do for their mates. I’m sure it’s just wishful thinking on my end, but now that the seed is planted, it’s hard to shake the thoughts.

“Nia?” Beren says my name again, and my brain snaps out of my thoughts and back into the present.

My eyes dart to Lyath, who’s right behind Beren, and then back down to where Beren is kneeling in front of me. Beren’s hands are on either side of my face, a steady pressure on me, letting me know he’s here. He’s with me.

My tongue darts out to lick at my bottom lip as I try to decide what to do with this new line of thinking. What if they’re not actually interested in females, and I’m reading way too much into this? No one else has even mentioned that Beren might be interested in me, so why am I putting so much stock into a riddle that Toron gave me?

“I am taking her home,” Beren says, turning his face to the side so he can speak to Olivia. She’s now standing next to Lyath with a worried expression on her face.

“Is she okay?” Olivia asks.

She watches me raise my hand as I let my sewing fall to my lap so I can give her a thumbs up. Beren grabs the fabric from my lap and tosses it to Lyath, who holds it tight in one of his fists.

Olivia nods and pats Beren on the shoulder. “Let us know if you need anything. Food, water, anything.”

“Thank you,” Beren says, moving his hand from my face, down around my neck, and finally letting one fall behind my back and the other underneath my knees. I’m up and in his arms before I can even think to protest. Not that I want to. Lyath’s been the one to carry me to the house every night, but I don’t mind it being Beren today.

I snuggle closer to his chest, taking deep breaths that have me moaning and wriggling in his arms before we’re even away from the table. Oh. Now it makes sense why Lyath is the one who carries me.

“That is a mistake, brother,” Toron calls to Beren in a tone that makes me think he’s laughing at my mate.

“Surely her nose soul is not called to him. We all know Beren and Lyath only enjoy one another’s company,” Erkoz adds, a taunt in his voice that I barely register as a needy pulsing begins deep in my core. Before I know it, Beren’s tunic is fisted in my hands so I can pull it lower. My tongue licks at the scales revealed in the neckline of his tunic while my thighs rub against one another for any amount of friction.

“I will kill you both,” Beren snaps. His arms flex to hold me tighter, like it will keep me from wriggling around more. I want to wrap my legs around him, grind myself against him, and relieve some of this tension in my body. I make a loud whining sound in the back of my throat right as the great hall doors swing open. “Be still, Nia.”

“Beren,” I whine and twist around in his hold again.

I’ve torn his tunic down the neckline, making a deep tear so I can have my hands and tongue and lips and teeth all along his scales. It should be mortifying, and it will be as soon as I’m not hypersexual. Right now, all of this feels so right. So fucking right that I never want it to stop.

“God, why do you feel and taste so good?”

“Your nose soul.”

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