Page 109 of The Weaver

Ulkari and the two males were already grabbing Rekosh as his legs, suddenly numb, gave out, and he fell onto his leg joints. They pulled off his bag, wrenched his arms back, and lashed them together, claws digging into his hide as they worked.

He knew it didn’t matter now, but his hearts stuttered at the thought of losing the dress. Ahmya’s gift.

Nuriganas released Rekosh’s mate.

Ahmya fell and crumpled forward onto hands and knees. With her head bowed and her hair hanging in disarray, she coughed raggedly and desperately gasped for air.

Rekosh pushed forward, but the males held him fast.

“Ahmya,” he rasped, straining toward her.

Ulkari stepped in front of him, grasped his hair, and dragged him upright. “We have caught the weaver. She will be pleased.”

“Should have killed him,” one of the males growled with a clack of his fangs. “Not worth the trouble.”

Rekosh couldn’t see his mate, but he still heard her labored breathing, her harsh coughing. His hearts pounded, and his fear and rage remained caught in their maddening storm.

“Have you lost faith, Vuljaz?” Ulkari asked, not looking away from Rekosh.

“No,” Vuljaz replied, his tone subdued.

Rekosh’s hands curled into fists, and his claws punctured his hide. The pain he should’ve felt remained beyond his reach.

Just like his mate.

Ulkari jerked Rekosh’s head back, forcing him to look up at her ash covered face. “Bind that disgusting little creature. We shall bring them to make an offering to our queen.”

CHAPTER 26

Rekosh was goingto be torn asunder as he marched to the enemy camp behind a pair of Claws.

All his thoughts, feelings, and instincts were in conflict. Fear and fury continued warring in his core. He needed to fight for his mate, to free her, to kill everyone who was threatening her. But if he fought, they would hurt Ahmya.

They would kill her.

To act would hasten her end. To continue onward in submission would only delay the inevitable.

These vrix, still fanatically loyal to Zurvashi, would not spare Rekosh and Ahmya’s lives. Whatever choice he made, the ultimate outcome would be the same.

He could not change that…but neither could he accept it. And the last few embers of his hope were struggling to remain alight against reality’s relentless deluge.

His internal strife was clawing at his hearts when they reached their destination.

A barrier of branches and brambles ringed the encampment. Rekosh and his friends had sometimes created such barriers to protect their camps, using them to deter overly curious orhungry beasts. But he’d never beheld any quite so tall and long as this.

Standing at the center of that thorn ring was a tall tree, from which a circular platform was suspended by thick silk strands. Two Claws, with barbed spears in hand, gestured from atop the platform.

Ulkari shoved Rekosh into the Camp, hard enough to make him stumble. Heat swept across his back, radiating from the place she’d touched. It was an itch beneath his hide that could not be scratched. A churning in his gut that would not settle.

“Shall I take the lead if you wish me to stride faster?” he grumbled, exerting force on his bindings. The silk creaked and bit into his hide but didn’t give by even a threadspan.

“Close your mouth,” Ulkari growled, striking the back of his head with the blunt end of her spear.

He stumbled again, thethunkof impact echoing through his skull. But the pain, like the many others throughout his body, was distant. Dull. And he was tempted to risk inviting another blow by glancing back to steal a glimpse of Ahmya, who, with her arms tied behind her back and her legs bound together, was being carried over a Fang’s shoulder like a beast to slaughter.

Rekosh clenched his jaw and squeezed his fists against a fresh surge of anger. He couldn’t do anything with that emotion. Not yet, not until an opportunity presented itself…

Or until one was made.

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