The Wax Pools

Chapter 18

let me know what you think of the current cover, I'm thinking of changing it. Also thinking about cutting it down a few men, it's going to be a lot to keep track of.

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The contrast between the private car and the rest of the train was stark, the carriage had a posh but slightly dated feel to it, with the dark wood and some metallic detail, deep plush fabrics. Certainly more amicable than anything I was used to. The only time I had ever seen anything close to it was in public areas of the temple. The rest of the train seemed more familiar, the same dark wood was light with wear, warped or stained in places, and the shiny metallics were dull and scratched. Once plush fabrics were now soft in a more, threadbare way, with lighter patches where they had been touched more. As we passed the compartments in each carriage I could hear chatter, laughter or snoring. Evidence of life instead of just the sound of the wheeling rumbling along the tracks beneath. It's about mid-morning now, and the sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating the dust floating through the stale air. Horseback may have been a painful way to travel, but I think I vastly prefer it to train travel. I feel strange here like I am unable to do anything but wait for my destination to appear before me, which I suppose in a way is true.

When we get to Ambrose's compartment he holds the door for me to slip inside and follows quickly after, It is small but not cramped, and I sit on the bench opposite where he has set his things on the overhead rack. A makeshift pillow of a wadded-up cloak still sits on the seat. I gaze out the window watching the greenery speed by as Ambrose settles and hastily stores his "pillow". When I turn back to him, he is already looking at me, his eyes swirling with different emotions.

"This isn't exactly how I pictured meeting my other half... or other, what is it? sixth?" Ambrose leans back in his seat. It stings a little, the reminder that I can never possibly be enough for multiple people. I was always a little too wild, a little too closed off and anti-social to even make friends in my hometown, and now I am expected to be loud and vibrant enough, not to mention lustful enough, to satisfy seven others.

"Eighth actually, if you count me as well", I can only offer a small smile.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I can assure you, although unexpected, they are not unwelcome" Ambrose leans forward again, trying to catch the gaze I cannot bear to give him.

"I would understand if they were... to be honest this whole thing seems so rushed, I only met Adam and Bear a few days ago and now I am travelling a great distance with virtual strangers, yourself included." My eyes began to tear a bit, the weight of how out of my depth I am getting heavier now.

"Oh, darling..." Ambrose leaned forward and gently took my hand in his, holding it like it was a delicate flower. "It might seem daunting right now, but it will all work out. I'll see to it personally that you radiate happiness if it's the last thing I do if you'll permit me of course." All I can do is sniffle in response, trying not to cry for the second time already today. "You'll be alright, and they'll come around, I mean who could stay away from a face like that, hmm? The gods must have spent ages making you."

Ambrose lets go of my hand and stands to rummage in his belongings overhead, I can't help but sneak a look at his ass while he does so. It distracts me for a second before I am met with a strong wave of guilt. I think the guilt is going to be a difficult thing to overcome with multiple soulmates, especially if they are all only bound to be and not each other... even now I wonder if I'm being fair to everyone if I've spread my time and attention evenly in the few days or hours I've known them. Ambrose sits back down.

"Here," he holds a small cotton pouch in his hand, "it's my own blend of tea leaves and herbs, for calming. I'll go grab us something to heat and hopefully some hot water to make you a cup, if you want it."

"Thank you, that would be nice" I reply, studying his features in the light. He's so caring, treating me like a newborn fawn he's found in the woods. I suppose a stronger woman would hate that, but I am eating it up. My whole life I have cared for myself, been prudent and strict and self-sufficient. Being taken care of like this is like unleashing your jaw after not knowing it was clenched for hours. You didn't even know how uncomfortable it was until you weren't doing it anymore, and the sense of release afterward is delicious. I want to curl up in his arms, in all their arms really, and live there. My heart aches even now, just thinking of leaving. I had thought about it and planned to do it even, but I don't think I can anymore. I'm addicted to their touch, and like an addict, I will chase my high regardless of the pain it may cause me in the future.