“Then I’ll help you.”
She places a hand on my arm, and the conviction in her voice fills my body with warmth. I give her a tender smile, hoping my heart isn’t in my eyes.
Because when I look at her, I’ve found my family.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zhuliya
The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on tracks signals the arrival of the Transsib. I inhale as the old railcars stop in front of Ilian and me.
Is this really happening?
A day ago, I was fulfilling one of my dreams of getting a tattoo by Ilian Yaniqu, and the next, I’m mated to the man, going on the journey of a lifetime to undo it.
Ilian, ever the gentleman, helps me up the steps and down the narrow hall to our cabin. How the man can even fit is a mystery.
His broad shoulders and towering horns make it so he has to nearly crawl with his head down to avoid bumping into anything.
We get situated just as the train leaves. Sitting by the window, I watch the Siberian landscape unfold like a vast, untouched canvas.
Across from me, Ilian stares out, too, and the silence stretches between us but it’s not uncomfortable. In truth, his presence is a comforting anchor that grounds me.
Last night, he insisted on sleeping on the broken couch in the sitting room while I took refuge in my room.
As I drifted into sleep, I couldn't help but feel bereft at the thought of him just beyond the door—for some insane reason, I wanted him by my side.
I feel safe when Ilian’s with me—calm, even—like I’ve been missing something inside of me my entire life and he’s the lost puzzle piece that completes the emptiness.
And that terrifies me because I don’t know if this is how I genuinely feel or if it’s the effects of the bond—what if I’m trying to dissolve the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me?
More importantly, what the heck happened to my fear of relationships?!
I shift in my seat, wishing I knew what was real and what wasn’t with my emotions. No easy feat considering how I can also feel Ilian through the bond.
His lust, his admiration, his guilt.
Even without him saying so, I know he thinks he’s a monster. I feel it in my bones how he hates what he’s done to me.
If only he could see himself through my eyes.
Just this morning, when we checked out of the hotel, an elderly woman approached Ilian, pulling him in for a strong hug that belied her air of weathered frailty.
She didn’t say anything, just patted his bony cheek and hobbled away to sit in front of the lobby fire.
Ilian stared after her for a long moment before quietly requesting to book her room for the rest of the week.
I pretended not to hear, but how can this man think he’s anything less than an absolute sweetheart?
The incident left me reflecting on the stark contrast between Ilian's perceived monstrosity and the kindness he effortlessly extends.
In his eyes, society brands Ithaqua as senseless beasts, but the reality he showed me painted a different picture.
And a tiny part of me already loves him for it.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I break the silence between us. “When was the last time you rode the Transsib?”
Ilian grins, the curl of his bony lips almost sheepish. “Actually, this is my first time. Ithaqua—and Mulens—prefer to walk the vast expanses of the Siberian tundra.
The idea of a structured journey is foreign to us as we tend to roam in a nomadic fashion from one place to another depending on the seasons.
And even though I live in human society, I rarely use human transportation. It’s not exactly made for monsters, especially ones my size.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize! Are you uncomfortable?”
He shrugs. “No. I’m happy to be wherever you are.”
Be still, my stupid heart.
“Who are the Mulens? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Some call them the Siberian Bigfoot, but they’re their own monster species.”
“How do you know so much about the Ithaqua if you were separated at birth?”
“Ithaquan traditions aren’t written down, but passed in utero to Ithaquan tugan—younglings. From it, I also have vague memories of my mother, but none of my father.”
