Page 62 of The Weaver

She couldn’t bear not seeing him at that moment. Couldn’t bear being turned away. Bracing her hand on his leg, she twisted toward him. Her hair briefly went taut in his hold before he released it, and he leaned back slightly, looking at her with eyes brimming with grief.

Ahmya faced him fully on her knees and slipped her arms around his neck, drawing him into the tightest embrace she’d ever given to anyone. She wished she could have done the same for him all those years ago when he was a child.

What tension had been in his hard body melted away against her. All four of his arms banded around her, lifted her, and drew her even closer to him. Without thought, Ahmyawrapped her legs around his waist. Out of all the vrix she’d met, Rekosh was the most charismatic, the most outgoing. But he’d developed those traits to protect himself.

He buried his face in her hair, and his shuddering exhalation teased her scalp. “Kir’ani vi’keishi…”

Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on his chest and twined her fingers in his hair as she cradled his head. Ahmya had no words to soothe the pain, loss, and loneliness he had felt, so instead she let him feel her. Let him know through her embrace that he was not alone, that she was here with him, that she understood and empathized. That she cared about him.

She wasn’t sure how long they held each other that way. She knew only that it felt right, despite the circumstances, and that it hadn’t been nearly long enough when he finally lifted his head. But he drew back only slightly, ensuring that their arms remained in place.

Ahmya looked up at him, and Rekosh looked down at her.

He trilled softly and retracted one of his upper arms. The backs of his fingers swept over her cheek, spreading tingles across her skin. “I cursed fate for the pain and sadness it gave me. Then, even with every star in the night sky burning between us, our threads crossed. I might have been thankful, but fate has done all it can to keep us apart. I have always spun my own silk, my own words, and now I will also spin my own fate—to ensure it is forever woven with yours.”

Ahmya’s breath caught, and her eyes flicked between his. Those words had not been spoken lightly, hadn’t been meant as simple comfort. They were more. Much, much more. “Rekosh…”

“There is something I must give you, Ahmya.” His lower hands guided her legs down, and he set her on her feet in front of him before withdrawing. He retrieved his bag from the ground, opened it, and reached inside.

His hand emerged holding the leather wrapped bundle she’d seen when she set out his belongings to dry.

She recalled what he’d said the morning he’d come to her den with something in his hands.

Ahmya, I must share words with you.

Words from my heartsthread,kir’ani vi’keishi…

Her heart raced, and she pressed a palm against her chest.

Rekosh set his bag down and shifted his forelegs, kneeling on the right while stretching the other out. His eyes met and held hers. “You are my mate, Ahmya. I felt it in my hearts when I first saw you.” He passed the bundle to his upper hands, bowed his head, and held the offering out to her atop his upturned palms. “Be mine, my heartsthread, and take me as yours.”

CHAPTER 15

Ahmya staredat the bundle in Rekosh’s hands.

He wants me to be his mate.

He wants me to be hismate.

Rekosh had always been attentive to Ahmya and her needs, had always been protective, caring, and patient. He’d spent so much time with her, seeking to learn her language as swiftly as possible so he could communicate with her.

The question had never beenifRekosh would declare himself, butwhen.

She’d always known, deep down, that this moment would come. But the trepidation that knowledge had once caused her was nowhere to be found now as she looked upon his bowed head. Rekosh was her friend. He was a kind, fierce protector who would make a loving…

Mate.

He would be my mate. My mate.

My…husband.

A nervous thrill coursed through Ahmya as she reached forward, lifted the bundle from his hands, and drew it close to her chest.

Rekosh released a shaky breath and raised his head. His mandibles ticked up into a vrix smile. Those crimson eyes burned for her, but she did not fear their heat. She yearned for it.

“Open it,” he said.

Flooded with eagerness, Ahmya held the gift along one forearm, untied the silk string holding it together, and peeled back the leather wrapping. It revealed another bundle, this one wrapped in silk cloth, which she also opened.

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