GAHRYE
The library seemed to close them away from the world and Gahrye found he couldn't focus on anything but her.
"Kalle," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes?" she responded in kind.
"Are you aware of… mates? In the Anima sense? True Mates—people whose souls are tied together by the Creator? People who cannot help but love each other?"
She nodded slowly, biting her lip. Her cheeks reddened again, her scent warming, washing over him until he had to stifle the mating call again. "I might have… read some stuff about that, yes," she said, embarrassed. Why?
Gahrye turned in his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. She was so much smaller than him, sitting in the seat next to his, when he leaned closer, he loomed over her.
But she didn't recoil.
She didn't look nervous, or afraid.
She didn't look disgusted—or pitying.
