Chosen

18

I eagerly placed each of my books in the shelves, arranging them in my own way. Rykor helped, bringing the entire pile from my bedroom, minus the two books he "allowed" me to carry. He smiled softly as I organized my stories and listened attentively as I babbled on about each book as I placed it. He said nothing while we worked, but his eyes stayed firmly on me the entire time.

"Which is your favorite, Lahla." It was the first time Rykor had spoken since I'd thanked him. I beamed as I strode right over to it, knowing exactly where it sat as it was the first one I'd placed.

Rykor groaned when I flashed him the cover. "Of course, that would be your favorite."

"Hey! This is a classic."

"Classic does not always equate to good, Lahla. That story is ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous! It's a beautiful love story."

He shot me a droll look. "Beautiful is a bit of a stretch. They know each other for a total of three days and barely even talk for most of that time. And the boy claims to be in love with another, so much so that he is depressed at her rejection, only to turn around and claim he loves this girl in the next second."

"Love is not bound by time, nor does it adhere to the rules of logic. This story is about true love, and anyone who thinks it's ridiculous simply cannot fathom what true love is."

Rykor quirked an eyebrow at me, and I blushed when I realized I had, again, insulted him.

And right after he made this beautiful room for me. How much ruder can I be?

I went to apologize, but Rykor stopped the flood of laments coming from my lips. I bit my tongue and instead focused my gaze on the leather-bound prized possession I held in my hands.

"Read it to me." My head snapped up to meet his serious gaze.

"Wha- ?"

"Read it to me. If you see such a powerful love story, perhaps I am reading it wrong. I would like you to read it to me." So I did.

Rykor and I sat by the fire, curled in our chairs, as I recited the beautiful tale of star-crossed lovers. As the day went on, we grew closer and closer to one another. By the end of the book, I was sat in between Rykor's legs, just in front of the dying fire, using his chest as a support and nuzzling into the knit blanket he'd thrown around our shoulders.

It was silent for a moment after I closed the book. It was the silence that comes after reading a wonderful story, where the reader must take a moment to come back to reality and leave behind the world and people with whom they'd just spent hours.

I broke the silence. "Well? What did you think?"

Rykor took a second to respond. "I was right." I scoffed and made to turn around so I could object, but he held firmly to my hips, laughing. "No, Lahla, I mean I was right when I said you read it differently. The way you told the story..." He nuzzled his nose into my hair and I gasped breathlessly. "I felt their love."

"I told the same story you've always heard." My voice was different. I'd never heard it so...breathy before.

"No," He continued nuzzling into my hair. "That was different, Lahla. The words were the same, but you...you told a love story."

We fell silent again, watching the glowing embers and fragile flames. I looked around the room, suddenly realizing how different it was from when I'd first seen it.

I called for the warm male behind me, rousing him from his semi-sleepy state. "How did you manage to turn this whole room into, well, into this?"

"I have been working on it for a while. When I went out for "pack business," I was actually at the O'Connor's home. I stored the bookshelves there while I built them, and the tables, and while they stained I set out for some furniture. I brought everything in while you slept, and some of the books are from my office downstairs." He rubbed the blanket on my arms. "Catherine made the blanket, though. Knitting is not one of my talents."

I turned abruptly, looping my legs around his. Rykor's hands automatically clasped around my waist, steadying my movements. "Wait, wait, wait. You mean you made all of these? And set this up on top of all the other work you had to do?" I had seen him all week, being so tired he could hardly finish his meals. Had this been the cause?

"Of course." He must have seen the expression on my face, because he continued. "I wanted you to have a place for your stories, Lahla. I did not mind the work."

"H-how long did this take?"

"I started when I saw your books."

"That long!? Rykor, that was weeks ago."

"I know." I stared at him, amazed. "I wanted to give you something, some place, where you could read and not be disturbed. A place you could fill with things that make you happy. Somewhere you could always go, somewhere that would make you smile."

My face felt frozen in shock. "But, but I won't always be here. I leave in two months."

"You don't have to." If possible, my eyes grew wider. Rykor cupped my face, his thumbs sliding under my eyes. "You could stay."

"Stay?" Our faces inched closer and closer, breath mingling, noses brushing.

"Stay with me." His lips hovered over my own, waiting. I showed no resistance, made no noise, save for a small hitch in my breath. Rykor's lips fitted over my own, stealing the rest of the breath from my lungs.

It was the barest brush of lips, the softest of pressures. The kiss lingered for only a moment before he pulled back, staring into my eyes. Another moment passed, and we sat, watching each other.

And in the next moment, I had flung myself off his lap, raced towards the doors, down the stairs and out of the beautiful house. Leaving the beautiful room, and the even more beautiful male, behind.