Page 168 of A Soul to Guide

Delighted, he drew his claws down her nape again, then down her shoulders and back in an arc. She let out a contented sigh and brought herself closer to him. As he kept doing it, she eventually rested her hands against him and subtly did the same back and forth over the fur on his stomach.

Her coily curls were draped over him like a cotton blanket, and they looked so soft and fluffy, like a cloud – although a complete mess from earlier. He couldn’t help but reach up above her so he could bury his clawed fingers into them.

His plan had been to brush them into being neat, but she winced just as he was forced to halt an inch down the length or he’d rip her hair out.

She let out a soft giggle and touched the underside of his wrist to draw him away. “You can’t do that with curls,” she chided playfully. “You’ll just get caught in my hair and put it in disarray.”

His sight shifted to a reddish pink in embarrassment. He wished he’d known that sooner.

He still wanted to touch her soft, springy curls, so he just brushed his hand over the top of them. He even picked up a few strands so he could rub their silkiness together.

Growing bolder, as he drew his claws up her back so he could glide them across her neck, he took his hand from her hair so he could caress her rounded cheek with his thumb. Her skin was smooth, soft, delicate. He explored her mesmerising features with his fingers, going up the straight of her nose until he brushed over one of her eyebrows.

It was strange that he was doing this. He’d never just... touched another, but her smile was worth it. She was enjoying it, and that was all the truly mattered.

Once Merikh was done petting her face, he brushed his palm down her arm, her leg, touching her everywhere he could. His claws at her back never stopped, and he was quite content to keep petting her there.

Sometimes, he glided his fingertips over the length of her pointed ear, and it would flick under his light touch.

They were very expressive, which fascinated him. He liked watching her eat because of them. Her left ear would always twitch whenever she was truly happy with what she was consuming.

“Merikh,” she started, her voice croaked and groggy. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Like a fairytale?” he asked, his throat thick from his earlier sounds of pleasure and the current emotions roiling around inside him. “Sure. I don’t see why not, but I would have to put you down and search if I have any.”

Her brows furrowed, like that wasn’t what she’d been seeking. “You would sit here and read me a book?”

He tilted his head, unsure of why she appeared puzzled. “If that is what you want, yes.”

She smiled so sweetly but shook her head. “That would be nice, but that’s not what I meant. I wanted you to tell me a story about you. Something good.”

He lowered his head so he could bump his snout against her cheek. “I don’t have anything like that to share.”

“Not even one?”

“I have funny moments,” he admitted. “I once told a human I was friends with a Duskwalker, and that if he met me outside of the gate, I would introduce them.”

“You did not lure someone like that.” Her lips pressed into a disappointed line before she turned that expression up at him. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Humour swirled in his chest, unwilling to deny it. “Here, let me find a story. I think I even figured out a way where I don’t have to put you down.”

He wound his arm around her back and gripped her thigh tightly. His quills were awfully close to her, but since they were laying down, he thought it might be okay. Then, crushing her to his chest, he got to his feet and went to his shelves.

He had a few story books here. When he found one, it was so covered in dust and brittle from disuse that he had to be careful with it. Some man named William had written the story, and he cared very little about the author in general.

When he sat back down, he held it up with the hand behind her so he could hold her hip with the other.

It was one of the books that had been given to him by Jabez when he’d been teaching him to read. The ghost of the recently deceased king tells his son to avenge his murder by killing the new king – the hero’s uncle. It was a bloody tale about death, murder, and deception, but he had little else to offer her.

As he was reading it, he wondered if Jabez had learned to speak English from his parents, like Raewyn had. He’d also tried to teach him math, but numbers often made him scratch at his head – they still did.

Raewyn didn’t seem to mind the tale’s gruesome tone, but she did do something that stole a piece of his heart.

While he was reading, Raewyn held the back of his hand before slyly stroking up his quills. Like with her kisses up his skull, he’d never had anyonewillinglytouch his quills, let alone stroke them.

He paused to watch her, unsure how he felt about it. She was petting them from their base up to the sharp points, going with their grain. Since she wasn’t causing herself harm, he let her be and continued to read.

It wasn’t hard to tell she’d fallen asleep by her soft snores, and he eventually placed the book down.

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