Page 43 of Changelings
Imogen hummed in consideration, another soft sound that he felt in his cock.
“Sometimes I knit. Or read. Something quiet, so I can listen to the rain.”
“You have many books,” he said.
She smiled fondly at her bookshelf. “Oh, these aren’t even half of what my mother had. Just what I brought from the old house. My favorites.”
Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Balar purred, “Would you read to me?”
Her brows rose nearly to her hairline. “W-what?”
“I enjoy stories but cannot read your language. I would enjoy hearing your voice.”
She stared at him for a long while, long enough that he was sure she’d deny him.
To his surprise, and pride, she eventually nodded hesitantly. Moving to retrieve a book, she settled with it in her armchair. Opening the cover, she ran her hand lovingly over the first page, a tender touch that tugged at Balar’s heart.
“My mother would read these stories to Neomi and me when we were little,” she said, her expression the softest Balar had ever seen it.
I want her to look at me that way,he thought fiercely.
Carefully flipping through the first few pages, she settled on one and began to read.
Shadow trotted over from his dish in the kitchen to sit beside Balar, who’d apparently been forgiven after he snuck the dog a few more pieces of meat. Together, they listened to Imogen’slilting voice as she read them a story.
It was one of those romantic stories that humans seemed to prefer, one set in a time no one quite remembers but still feels familiar. Interestingly, it was a tale of a harpy and a human knight. Balar listened intently to how the human and otherly fell in love, the trials and tribulations of that love, and even how their love produced a winged child.
It was a lovely story, full of daring and declarations of love. Listening to his mate’s sweet voice speak of love between human and otherly only enflamed him, that need inside him growing into something vast and yet…tender.
Balar had never felt it before.
How was it his heart hurt, physically ached in his chest, yet the feeling was so utterly sweet?
She was magic, his Imogen. That’s what this had to mean.
When her tale came to an end, her silence left a ringing echo that Balar was loath to fill. He and Shadow quietly admired Imogen as she turned the pages of the book, her expression almost dreamy.
Balar glanced outside and had to bite back his grin.
“It’s gotten late.”
Imogen looked up, seeming surprised. She twisted to look out the kitchen window, finding it an inky black. Overhead, the rain pounded a steady rhythm against the roof.
Balar took pains to ensure his face remained open and calm as he looked at her.
Let me stay with you,he begged her.
Imogen slowly turned back around in her chair, taking a moment to consider.
“You can stay the night…if you want.”
Biting back his roar, he said, “Thank you,urisá,you are very gracious.”
“Do you think you’ll fit on the sofa?”
Balar held his mild smile with force of will. Of course she wouldn’t give in so easily. “Don’t worry over me. I’ll be fine.”
Imogen nodded, her gaze falling to the book. She seemed discomfited, the softness of before gone.
