Page 44 of The Weaver

He handed her a wad of his silk. She applied it to the deep bite marks, smoothing out the edges and making sure the sticky substance was firmly in place.

Her bottom lip quivered, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Rekosh’s chest tightened. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and moved on to the next wounds, taking great care in cleaning them. Her hands trembled, her body shivered, and her breath shook, but she worked diligently, seeing to every injury she could find.

Rekosh handed her more silk as she required, but with each passing moment, his shame grew.

As much as he craved her touch and attention, he could not bear for her to continue like this. Ahmya was cold and exhausted, pushing her body beyond its limits. She needed rest and warmth.

The only thing he needed was for her to be all right.

Rekosh curled his fingers around her wrist. She looked at him. There was such sorrow in her eyes, but he much rather would’ve seen sorrow in them than the nothingness they’d held as she had lain limp in his arms.

He plucked the cloth from Ahmya’s hand, pulled her closer, and drew her down in front of him, curling his uninjured foreleg on the ground beneath her. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her against his chest. “You must rest.”

Ahmya tensed, placing a hand on his leg, and attempted to rise again. “Rekosh, your leg needs?—”

Keeping his hold on her firm but gentle, Rekosh caught her chin and tipped her face back, forcing her gaze to meet his. “I will heal, Ahmya.” He brushed his fingers along her jaw, following the delicate shell of her ear, until he reached her damp hair, through which he combed his claws, carefully working out any snags they encountered. “Vrix heal in a small time.”

“You promise you’ll be okay?” The tension was already leaving her body as she relaxed against him.

“Yes. We will be okay,vi’keishi.”

As he continued to comb his claws through her hair, Ahmya’s lashes fluttered, and her eyes closed. She slumped against his chest, and though her breathing was still ragged, still shallow, it was steady and unbroken.

Rekosh leaned his shoulder against the cool, hard stone wall of their shelter. He felt impossibly heavy. Impossibly weary. She deserved fluffed silk to rest upon, a cushion to cradle her in her sleep, but he knew that such was beyond him now.

Getting this far would have to be enough.

My mate slumbers in my arms.

His mandibles ticked upward. Despite everything, he could find joy in something so small as this. For the first time, Ahmya was sleeping not merely near him, but with him. She was comfortable enough in his embrace to fall asleep.

It made no difference to him that she had simply succumbed to exhaustion.

She cares for me. She has shown it, and I have seen it with all eight eyes.

“Would that this day had gone differently, my little flower,” he whispered in vrix.

The jungle flashed outside the shelter, but only a little of the lightning’s harsh illumination reached inside, reflected in the moisture still clinging to Rekosh and Ahmya. Thunder crackled over the trees, vibrating in the stone, and the rain fell as hard as ever.

Rekosh rested his head against the rough wall, and his eyelids slowly fell. He did not know where they were, did not know how they would get back home, but he knew one thing without a single shred of doubt.

He would never be lost so long as he had Ahmya.

CHAPTER 10

Awareness cameto Ahmya slowly as she woke, and pain came along with it.

She’d been in pain before. Trekking through the unforgiving jungle and swamp to escape a giant, bloodthirsty vrix queen hell-bent on killing Ahmya and her companions had introduced her to all sorts of discomfort and agony.

Nearly getting killed by a moving, carnivorous plant topped the list, and Ahmya still felt echoes of its fiery venom whenever she saw the scars it had left on her body.

This was a different kind of pain.

Her chest felt tight, like there was a great weight upon it, and she couldn’t draw a deep enough breath to fill her lungs. Her throat was raw, and her head throbbed. Underlying that was a dull, deep-seated ache permeating her whole body.

I almost drowned.

How many times would she face death? How many times would she escape it?

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