Page 13 of The Weaver

As he neared Ahmya’s den, movement from the left caught his attention. Rekosh stilled.

Cole was kneeling in front of the window, holding the ends of a silk rope that was looped around a halved log. A second rope was tied off around the other end of the log, suspending itfrom a framework of thick branches that jutted out from the top of the window.

“This good?” Cole asked in English.

“A little higher,” Ahmya said.

“You said that last time, and then it ended up being too high!”

Last time?How often had Cole visited Ahmya during Rekosh’s absence? What else had the male human done for her?

She laughed again. “Not my fault you yanked it too hard.”

Cole snickered. “No such thing as yanking it too hard.”

“Oh, you’re so gross.”

Rekosh tilted his head. He knew their words, but Ahmya’s tone implied deeper meaning, which humans always seemed to weave into their language.

And from what he had observed, they seemed most fond of using unrelated words to suggest?—

“I’m just a man with basic human needs. It’s not like I’m asking anyone else to yank it for me. Unless you want to?—”

Face reddening, Ahmya jabbed a finger at the male. “Stop right there! It’s never going to happen, Cole.”

To suggestmating.

Though Rekosh did not fully understand, the humans were able to twist seemingly any word in their language to imply something sexual. Based on their tones—and Ahmya’s reaction—that was exactly what Cole was doing now.

Heat flared in Rekosh’s chest and skittered outward beneath his hide. Squeezing his fists, he closed the distance between himself and the humans.

“Aw, come on,” Cole continued. “I can’t hel?—”

“I will yank it,” Rekosh growled.

Both humans started, with Ahmya drawing in a sharp breath, and Cole uttering a curse as he fumbled to keep hold of the small log.

“Shit, man!” Cole jerked his face toward Rekosh. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Rekosh!” Ahmya exclaimed with a bright smile, flashing her flat, white teeth. “Did you just get back?”

“No,” Rekosh replied as gently as he could manage, extending a foreleg to brush along Ahmya’s bare calf. Her alluring scent teased him.

But neither the sweetness of her scent nor the softness of her skin quenched the fire inside him. His fingers squeezed the bundled gift, his mandibles twitched closer together, and his hide bristled. Tension coursed through his limbs. Though he longed for nothing more than to hoist Ahmya against his chest and carry her to his den, Rekosh glared at Cole.

The tufts of fur over Cole’s eyes, his eyebrows, knitted together. “Uh…hi?”

“Did you hear my words, human?” Rekosh extended his upper hands, splaying his fingers before hooking his claws. “I will yank it.”

Cole shuddered and let out an unsteady laugh. “Going to go out on a limb and guess that you don’t even know whatitis.”

Rekosh strode closer to Cole, ignoring the rumbling in his chest. The human laid the halved log on the platform and pushed himself to his feet.

“I know it cannot be yanked too hard,” Rekosh said.

Cole’s laughter was more confident this time. “So what is it then, man?”

“Show me. Then we will learn if you speak true.”

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