Page 107 of The Weaver

The ground rumbled as the ambushers gave chase. Twigs cracked and snapped, leaves rustled, vrix growled and grunted,and Rekosh’s hearts pounded like thunder in his chest, pumping sizzling blood through his veins.

He yearned to kill them all. To end Zurvashi’s legacy of blood and terror in a final brutal surge, to leave their bodies to the scavengers, to let their flesh rot and their bones be swallowed by the jungle.

But Ahmya was more important than bloodlust, than vengeance, than anything. And no matter the potency of his rage, he knew this was a fight he was not likely to win.

So Rekosh poured all his strength of body and will into his legs, keeping them moving at an impossible pace.

Ahmya bounced against him despite his firm hold. There was simply no way to spare her while maintaining such speed, and he could not allow himself to slow no matter her discomfort.

Ulkari’s order hadn’t been to kill the traitor, but to capture the traitor. Rekosh wasn’t foolish enough to believe that meant these loyalists to the dead queen planned to show mercy.

“Rekosh,” Ahmya breathed.

“I have you,vi’keishi,” he growled. “I have you.”

The sounds of pursuit persisted behind him, the ambushers shouting as they ran. Though based on the volume of the noise, he was widening his lead on them, he dared not look back for fear of losing even a shred of his forward momentum.

The river was their only hope. If he and Ahmya could get to the river…

Even if they had to brave being swept along by the churning waters again, he would do so. Their chances were better with the unforgiving river than with these vrix.

Only when movement flickered at the upper edge of his vision did he recall what had so unsettled him moments before—the unknown group that had signaled from somewhere behind Rekosh and Ahmya.

A pair of male vrix were perched atop a thick bough thatcrossed above Rekosh’s path, with a net stretched between them.

Rekosh’s legs skidded along the leaves and detritus atop the jungle floor as he struggled to change direction. The males leapt down.

Ahmya screamed. The males landed on either side of Rekosh, and his momentum carried him straight into their net. The strands closed around him and tangled on his limbs. He desperately attempted to maintain his balance, but his stumbling steps only worsened the net’s constriction. His upper body tipped forward.

The males yanked hard on the lower portion of the net.

His hearts leapt, clawing their way into his throat, and paralyzing cold exploded from his core.

Rekosh’s legs were swept out from beneath him, and he fell, his body skewing to the right. He tensed and attempted to contort himself to shield Ahmya from the impact, but he could not stop himself from coming down atop her.

He felt her soft form pinned beneath him, felt her nails scraping his hide, felt and heard her breath burst from her lungs. The spear snapped under him, but he barely felt the bite of splintered wood.

“Ahmya,” he snarled, fighting the netting to brace his hands on the ground and shove his weight off her.

She writhed beneath him, struggling to draw in a breath, and her near silent gasps were the most alarming and heartbreaking sound he’d ever heard.

“No, no, no, breathe, please.” With claws and fangs, he tore at the net, hooking any stands he could. He needed to give her space, needed to be able to see her, to check on her, to tend to her.

He’d harmed her. It made no difference that it had been unintentional.

The males were still tugging on the net. Every pull allowedRekosh’s claws and fangs to bite deeper into the silk ropes, every pull was like a gust of wind feeding the inferno in his chest.

“Rekosh,” she rasped. “I’m… oh…”

One of the ropes broke, slackening the net. He pushed outward on all the strands, seeking further weaknesses. Another rope broke, then another.

“Restrain him!” a female commanded from nearby.

Rekosh growled and pushed harder. He felt more of the ropes fraying, and as they gave way, his rage intensified. This was not how he and his mate would meet their ends. They would not have their future stolen when they’d only just laid claim to it. He would not allow this to happen.

Ahmya’s trembling hands found his face, their touch still warm, still soft, despite everything. “I’m…okay… I’m o?—”

Something with all the weight and solidness of a boulder slammed into the side of Rekosh’s head. The net ripped as the force of the blow knocked him aside, away from his mate, away from her hands, her touch.

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