Page 56 of The Weaver

Then her face crumpled. A sob burst from her as she threw herself against Rekosh, wrapping her arms around him, her body heaving with her cries.

Rekosh’s chest constricted as he embraced her with all four arms. Her tears wet his hide, undoing the work she’d done to dry him, but they were warm in contrast to the rain. Her soft skin was warm too, and impossible to ignore.

Just as impossible to ignore as her sweet scent.

He clenched his jaw and, still holding her, eased down onto the shelter floor. This closeness made no difference. The feel of her body against his would not pry his focus from what was important. Now was a time to offer her comfort while she was vulnerable, not to succumb to desire and instinct.

He lifted Ahmya and cradled her in his arms. She trembled and cried, and he held her, gently combing his claws through her hair and softly crooning.

Something had hurt his Ahmya. Someone had hurt her. Deep, deep down. Even if he did not know how those invisible scars had been inflicted, he recognized their effects.

Gradually, her cries quieted, and the tremors wracking her faded. Her ragged breaths grew deeper, smoother, calmer.

“You are okay,kir’ani vi’keishi,” he said. “I am with you. Always.”

Ahmya rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for making me feel like I matter.”

CHAPTER 13

Ahmya closedher eyes and tipped her face up toward the morning sun. The sunshine was warm upon her skin, a welcome change from all the rain over the last couple of days. She’d awoken feeling lighter than she could remember. Freer. Sure, she was a bit embarrassed about her breakdown yesterday, but it had been sorely needed.

And Rekosh had held her through it all. He’d petted her, crooned to her, had spoken soothing words in both vrix and English, and when she’d been spent, he’d fed her bluevine fruit and dried meat. After all her worry that he wouldn’t have enough to eat, that she was a failure because she’d let the creature get away, she’d discovered that those leaf-wrapped bundles in his bag had been meat.

She’d cried again because of that.

If her father had been around to see her, he would have been disgusted and disappointed. He would’ve told her to grow up, to get a hold of herself, that the world didn’t care about her hurt feelings.

That had been Ahmya’s childhood from the age of eight onward—after her mother had died.

But now he’s dead too.

Ahmya opened her eyes and stared up at the blue sky. One hundred and sixty-eight years had passed since she’d boarded theSomnium. Everyone she’d known on Earth was gone.

Along with almost everyone who was on the ship.

Splashing called her attention to the river, where Rekosh was stepping into the water. They’d found a shallow spot downriver from the waterfall. Here, the current was calm, soft vegetation grew along the bank, and the ground was rocky rather than muddy.

Sunlight shone upon Rekosh, bringing out the red and white strands in his long, loose hair and brightening the crimson markings on his black hide. She ran her gaze over his body. Broad shoulders, lean muscles, a narrow waist. Six long legs and spiderlike hindquarters.

How was it that only months ago, she’d been absolutely terrified of him, and now all she could see was beauty? Because he was beautiful. Monstrous, alien, and beautiful.

Rekosh turned his face toward her. His mandibles lifted into a smile as he raised a hand and beckoned her. “Come, Ahmya.”

She chuckled and closed the distance between them, rocks crunching under her boots. But rather than step into the water, she sat on a large boulder near the river’s edge.

“Nuh uh. You expect me to get wet again after it finally stopped raining?” She ran her palm over her skirt, which was noticeably shorter after having cut strips of fabric from it. There was also still a hint of dampness in the cloth. “I feel like I’ve only just gotten mostly dry.”

“The sun is warm,” he replied, lifting his chin skyward. “You will dry again soon.”

Ahmya leaned back, propped herself on her hands, and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “You enjoy the water. I’m just going to bask in the sun and hope I don’t burn.”

“I will clean quickly. I do not want myvi’keishito burn.” He walked out a little farther, sank down, and began splashing water on himself, scrubbing the dirt and mud from his hide.

She couldn’t help but watch as he ran his hands over his body. He gingerly cleaned around his wounds, all of which had scabbed over, his movements somehow graceful despite the hint of stiffness in them.

And Ahmya didn’t look away even when he rubbed his hind legs together and brushed them along his hindquarters in perhaps the most insect-like display she’d seen from him.

What once would have been off-putting to her was now fascinating.

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