Heart Song (Forbidden Mates, #3)

by Heather Guerre

“I still don’t know your name,” Theyma said, trotting to keep up with him. He didn’t even hesitate. “Rakhnar,” he answered, relieved to use his vocal cords normally. “Say it again.” “Rakhnar.” “Slowly.” “Raaakh-naaarrr,” he repeated, projecting the tones crisply and clearly. Her lips parted, but she made no sound. After a moment, she closed her mouth with a little sigh. She looked at Rakhnar and tapped her throat. She held up one finger, frowning. With a sudden pang, it dawned on him that she wouldn’t be able to pronounce his name. Human throats could only produce one tone at a time. “Don’t trouble yourself,” he said gently, even though disappointment prickled beneath his scales. She fluttered her hands impatiently at him, a gesture that seemed to indicate again. Keeping his expectations low, he repeated, “Rakhnar.” She closed her eyes as if savoring the sound of his name. Some of his disappointment faded. And then, to his utter shock, she opened her mouth and sang, “Raaaakhnaaaar.” She didn’t pronounce it the way a Ljark would. She broke the tones apart, projecting each one individually over the drawn-out vowels of his name. He stared at her in wonder. How did she identify the individual tones and isolate them in that way? It was his name as he’d never heard it before. In her mouth, it sounded ethereal and sacred. His heart began to pound. His scales shimmered as the nerves beneath them tingled. “Again,” he pressed. She seemed to understand. “Rakhnar.” She did it faster t...