Page 85 of The Weaver

Once more, he’d set her heart aflutter.

When she’d boarded theSomniumto begin a new life on Xolea, Ahmya had expected to enter an impersonal relationship and become a breeder. She’d had no illusions of having a lovematch with her partner, but she’d at least hoped for mutual respect. Maybe even friendship.

Instead, she’d crashed here. Upon first awakening, this planet had been terrifying, and the situation had felt hopeless. She didn’t know what sort of life her and the others would make—if they’d even survive at all.

But there had been Rekosh. He had been her protector, her friend. He’d given her patience, kindness, wisdom, and affection. He’d given her joy.

He’d given her love.

She didn’t need to hear those words from him to see it. To feel it. It was in everything he did.

Rekosh made her heart pound whenever he was near, made her body shiver with every touch, made her belly warm with every look.

And Ahmya had felt the overwhelming emotion long before she’d realized it.

Smiling, she tipped her forehead against his headcrest, keeping her eyes locked with his. “Here are some words that aren’t confusing.Anata wa watashi no taisetsu na hito.”

“Anata wa…” he echoed.

Ahmya helped him through the words, until he was able to say the full phrase.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“It means”—she brushed her lips across his mouth—“you are mytaisetsu na hito. The person I cherish the most, in this world or any other.”

His hands flexed upon her, and his mouth parted, breath mingling with hers. Rekosh slid his fingers into her hair, gaze softening. “Of all the human words I have learned,kir’ani vi’keishi, none make my heartsthread sing like these.Anata wa watashi no taisetsu na hito.”

CHAPTER 21

Rekosh knewhis eyes should’ve been upon the spitted nurunal roasting over the fire. Between the tantalizing song of sizzling meat and crackling flames and the tempting aroma filling his nose, his stomach was twisting with anticipation. And he was sure his mate was just as hungry.

It had been several eightdays since he’d last cooked, and the task required attention. Most of the humans were comfortable enough with the process that they scarce paid it any heed, almost instinctively tending their meals while engaged in conversations or other tasks. But Rekosh was not so skilled at it yet. He knew only that too little time would result in meat his Ahmya found unappetizing and potentially sickening, while too much would produce a charred, inedible chunk of waste.

And what of his surroundings? They’d found good shelter, but that didn’t mean he could neglect keeping watch. They were protected from behind and to one side by rock walls, overgrown with vines and moss. On their other side, a massive, misshapen tree grew at an angle, serving as a wall and roof of their shelter.

Though the entrance to this natural chamber was only a fewsegments across, that was more than enough for danger to make its way inside.

But he could not pry his eyes from Ahmya. She sat on a thick branch on the other side of the fire, watching the meat and the dancing flames, oblivious to his struggle.

She was wearing her boots again. He understood why; they were durable and dependable, and kept her feet protected. The boots didn’t bother him.

The pink silk coverings she’d put back on very much did.

Those simple garments had been inferior even before the ordeals Rekosh and Ahmya had endured. Now, they were stained and ragged.

And the silk wasn’this.

That was the true source of his ire—his mate was wearing silk from another vrix, possibly another male. That was no different than someone else trying to claim her. He would not allow it, would not tolerate it any longer.

His grip on the stick holding the meat aloft strengthened, and the wood creaked in protest.

That fabric did not deserve to touch Ahmya’s skin, did not deserve to be anywhere near her.

Only his silk from now on.

He emitted a low growl.

Ahmya looked up at him and arched a brow. “I don’t believe that was your stomach rumbling.”

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