Bigfoot’s Mate (Mates for Monsters: Sasquatch #3)

12. Dafydd

CHAPTER 12

DAFYDD

Yesterday…

My Giir stein hits the wooden bar top with a dull thunk. Huw wordlessly refills it for what must be the fifth—sixth?—time tonight. I've lost count.

"She really believes that?" Taredd leans against the bar beside me, his brow furrowed in concern. “She really believes our species shouldn’t mix?"

I nod miserably, staring into my drink. "Said she belongs with her own kind and I belong with mine.”

“Damn. That's rough, buddy." Taredd scratches his head. “It doesn’t make sense though. I mean, the algorithm was supposed to weed out women who might not be open to inner-species mating. And everything seemed to be going so well for you two.”

Everything was going well. Perfect. Until it wasn't.

My soulstone gives a weak, pathetic hum. I want to tell it to shut up, but I'm not quite drunk enough to start talking to my cock. Yet. Besides, it might as well do its thing now. Soon it’s going to go dormant forevermore.

And now I’m using words like forevermore . I take another long pull of Giir, welcoming the burn.

"One minute we're happy, planning a future, and the next..." I wave my hand vaguely, accidentally knocking over an empty stein. Huw shoots me a warning look as he rights it.

"Women are complicated," Taredd offers sagely.

I snort. "Thanks for that profound insight."

"Just trying to help."

"I know." I sigh, running a hand through my fur. "I'm not great company right now."

"Understandable. You lost your mate."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Lost my mate. My precious Deborah.

"You know what the worst part is?" I gesture with my stein, sloshing Giir onto the bar. "Part of me still hopes she'll change her mind. How pathetic is that?"

"Not pathetic." Taredd's voice is gentle. "Natural."

"But she won't change her mind. And even if she did..." I drain my stein. "Even if she came back right now, it wouldn't matter. Because I'll always know, deep down, how she feels about me..us…our kind… my kind. That we shouldn't intermingle. That we're too different."

"You know," Taredd says carefully, "I could keep tabs on her. After she goes back topside."

I whip my head around so fast I nearly fall off my stool. "What?"

"Digitally, I mean. Track her movements, make sure she's safe. Let you know how she's doing."

The offer is tempting. So tempting. But... "No." I shake my head firmly. "No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because..." I struggle to put it into words. "Because knowing she's out there, living her life, maybe meeting someone else..." My voice cracks. "I couldn't take it."

Taredd nods understanding. We sit in silence for a moment, nursing our drinks.

"Although..." The Giir must be hitting me hard because the words tumble out before I can stop them. "Maybe you could just... check on her occasionally? Make sure she's safe?”

"Of course." Taredd claps me on the shoulder. "Whatever you need, brother."

The thought of her with another male—a human male—makes my chest feel like it's being crushed in a vise. But the thought of her alone, unhappy, that's somehow worse.

"I just want her to be happy." The words come out as barely more than a whisper. "Even if it's not with me."

"I know." Taredd signals for another round. "That's what makes you a good male."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Yeah, I'm a real catch. The Squatch who got rejected by his fated mate.”

"Hey." Taredd's voice turns stern. “There are extenuating circumstances. Everyone knows that.”

“Whatever.” I mean it to sound sarcastic, but it comes out more pathetic than anything else, like I’m a teenage girl. “I will never have another female."

It's true. Even if my soulstone wasn't permanently attuned to Deborah, my heart wouldn't want anyone else. She's it for me. She was it. My one and only.

"Maybe..." Taredd hesitates. "Maybe she just needs time? I mean she is, after all, being asked to give up everything she’s ever known to remain here in Grotto. That can’t be an easy choice.”

I shake my head. "You didn't see her face when she said goodbye. She meant it."

The memory of her expression—cold, distant, nothing like my warm, vibrant Deborah—makes me signal Huw for yet another drink. Something tells me it's going to be a long night.