Starwalker (Starborn 1) (Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance) by P. Jameson

her Heartbeat . Her wren. The one made for her to love. The one meant to love her back. Her mate.
    She had a mate.
    Someone to share her hopes and dreams with. Someone to share life with. She’d never be alone again.
    Canna forgot to breathe, her air stalling in her chest, before racing to catch up. All the while, the wren stared at her with a careful expression.
    She should say something. At least to hide the astonishment that she couldn’t deny. Hiding her feelings was second nature to Canna and just because her heart was beating didn’t change that. Not yet anyway.
    “I… can’t… I…”
    Her words failed her. Try again .
    “You… your… heart beats?”
    He nodded, his face so intent on hers that she had the most compelling urge to run away. And that was crazy because Canna never ran away. It was her rule number one.
    He took one step closer; she took one step back. They moved in harmony.
    “I am… yours ,” he said.
    His tone made her think he knew just how utterly shocked she was. Maybe he could see it in her eyes.
    “It was you, Cannalise, who made my heart beat.”
    She shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. “When? Did we meet? I don’t know you.”
    He looked at the ground. At his hands.
    “I first saw you…” His voice went thin and he cleared his throat gruffly. “It was when you were eight lightyears-old. You were at Ula’s kafé. We didn’t meet but… but my heart started beating for you that day.”
    Eight … years… old…
    She was one thousand and twelve years old this day.
    Canna went dizzy. The kind of dizzy where you get confused about which is the sky or the ground, the floor or the ceiling. 
    “One thousand years?”
    “One thousand and four,” he corrected.
    For a thousand years her Heartbeat had known who she was. Known where to find her. Known that she was his. A thousand years had passed. A thousand years they could’ve been together. And yet…
    He’d… avoided her. Stayed away. Didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t. No one else wanted her either. She was hard and cold and mean. What did she expect?
    She’d expected to never find her mate, that’s what. She’d never cared what people thought because she’d expected to remain alone until her dying day.
    No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the anguish from leeching onto her face. She ached so bad inside it felt like carving blades imbedded in her chest.
    The Fates had it wrong. All wrong.
    Breckken reached for her, looking worried. “Canna?”
    She lurched backward and tripped over an ice sculpture, tumbling to the frozen ground and dropping the arrow.
    “Canna!” he cried and bent to help her up, but she threw both hands out to fend him off.
    “ No !” she said, shaking her head viciously. “Stay away from me. Stay back!”
    By the time she hauled herself off the ground she was horrified to feel the liquid seeping from her eyes. She was crying. Just perfect. She swiped at the wetness with quick, angry movements.
    “My Canna,” he breathed. “My maiden. What is it? Why do you cry?”
    “I’m not… not crying. And I’m not your maiden. I am nobody’s but my own.”
    His eyes were strangely pleading and concerned. But it didn’t matter to her. It was clear he was only there now because he had to be. He’d put it off a thousand years and now he was likely heartsick. That would explain his sudden appearance.
    Whatever. He would get over it. Without her.
    “Please, talk to me. Let me make it better. I want to make it better for you.”
    She dug deep and found the shattered pieces of her mask, connected them like a jigsaw puzzle, and then put it back in place. The tears dried up. The anguish disappeared. What remained was chilly and brittle.
    “You can’t make it better,” she spat.
    He put his hand to his heart and rubbed in a tight circle.
    “I would do anything, anything to ease you now. Just tell me what you need and you shall have it.”
    “Now. Yes, now . I don’t