Ruby Dixon

She is making me resonate. She is mine.

She bellows something and thrashes at me again. Her hand curls into a fist, and she smacks it into my face, knocking my lip against my teeth. A flash of pain shoots through my mouth, and I snarl.
She immediately goes quiet, flinching backward, her hands raised to shield herself.
I am sickened at her reaction.
This woman, this small creature who has half the stature of a sa-khui is my mate. How can she possibly think I would harm her? But she is cringing back even now, as if expecting a blow to fall. Rage fills me, because this is not a normal response.
Someone has hurt my mate in the past.

And then it occurs to me that . . . she is not resonating. She doesn’t feel what I do, because she has no khui. Maybe she never has.
I’m hit with a sense of loss so strong it makes me bare my teeth. This . . . this cannot happen. How is it that she cannot resonate to me? That we are not connected? It is as if I have found my other half after so long…and she is dead to me. The thought chokes me. To lack a khui is a death sentence. To see Shorshie so vibrant and so doomed makes my soul ache.
But no. She is my mate. My other half. I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep her.