Page 30 of The Weaver

Rekosh nodded, but whatever words he might have offered vanished from his mind when Ahmya appeared on his other side.

She was so close that her presence alone made his hide tingle with warmth and his fine hairs rise. Whenever they were so near to each other, Rekosh faced a desperate struggle to keep himself from reaching for her, and now was no different. His bag seemed to tug down on his shoulder, its contents feeling eightfold heavier than before.

“Did Garahk say we were staying here tonight?” Ahmya asked as she and Lacey each collected a basket.

Rekosh’s chest swelled. “You understand vrix words better each day,vi’keishi.”

She smiled at him. “You’re learning English pretty fast yourself.”

He trilled and sank into a bow, touching his knuckle to his headcrest. “I learn for you, Ahmya.”

“Rekosh…” She ducked her head, making her hair fall to partially shield her face, and clutched the basket in front of her. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“It is a need”—he extended a hand, hooked her dangling hair with a finger, and gently tucked the strands behind her ear—“and a want.”

Ahmya’s dark gaze met his. As he straightened, he trailed his finger along her jaw to her chin, tipping her face up to keep their eyes locked. “No hiding. Not from me. Never from me.”

Pink blossomed on her cheeks, but she did not look away. Instead, she licked her lips with her little tongue and curled her fingers around his wrist. Her skin was warm, and her hand trembled. “I don’t want to.”

She said those words so softly, so quietly, that Rekoshwondered if he’d imagined them. His hearts quickened, thumping louder than her voice had been.

Lacey coughed loudly. “Should I, uh, leave you two alone, or should we…”

Ahmya sucked in a sharp breath, and her eyes flared wide. She jerked away from Rekosh and hurried toward the other human. “No. No, sorry. Lots of work to do, right?”

Rekosh’s hand lingered in the air. More of that prickly warmth pulsed beneath his hide. His claspers pressed in around his slit as he battled the instinct to take hold of her, to prevent her escape.

To bind her.

He glared at Lacey as he loosely closed his fist and lowered his arm. “Yes. Much work.”

Lacey offered him a crooked smile, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Oh, did I interrupt? I’m so sorry!”

“You’re impossible,” Ahmya muttered as she shifted her hold on her basket and turned away, walking deeper into the jungle.

With a huff, Rekosh waved Lacey away. “Telok should have come.”

Expression blank, she lifted her hand, bending down all her fingers but the middle one. Then she followed Ahmya.

“Do you require aid, weaver?” Okkor called, catching Rekosh’s attention. The thornskulls, having established their small, simple camp, had already begun spreading out to forage.

“Help giving words, it seems,” said Elharat.

Rekosh clicked his fangs. “I have many, many words to give. Who would like to hear?”

Chittering, the thornskulls strode into the jungle, quickly vanishing amidst the foliage.

If only it had been that easy to get Lacey to run off.

Why was everything and everyone determined to prevent him from making his claim? Fate had brought him to Ahmya, and he would not allow fate to alter course now.

Growling, he snatched up a spare basket and hurried after the humans.

He caught up to them swiftly, and he was pleased to see Ahmya treading carefully, her head turning from side to side as she searched her surroundings.

Unlike you, you fool.

And yet he could not look away from her. He was fascinated by the sway of her hair as she walked, by those dark strands sweeping across the bare, tantalizing skin of her back. His fingers flexed with the desire, with the need, to touch her.

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