Page 97 of The Weaver

He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. But why? We have our home in Kaldarak.”

“I know, but”—Ahmya shrugged as she continued up the steps—“shadowstalkers and thornskulls have reunited. Maybe it could happen with the other vrix again. And you could have a place where you all come together as one like they did here.”

“We will tell the others about this place, and they will do as they wish. But there is only one I want to come together with, and she is no vrix.”

Laughing, she glanced at him to find his mandibles raised in a smile. “I wouldn’t mind coming together again.”

He brushed a foreleg against her backside with a purr. “Mynyleeahungers.”

Though Ahmya blushed at the open flirting, she couldn’t help but respond. “And I would say myluveenis quite thirsty.”

Rekosh chittered low. “For you, always.”

Desire sparked in her core as she recalled just how thirsty he’d been that morning and the feel of his tongue thrusting deep, deep, deep inside her pussy. Walking only seemed to exacerbate the sudden swelling of her clit, and made her aware of how swiftly Rekosh could make her wet.

Jeez, Ahmya. No longer a virgin and now sex is all you can think about?

I can’t help it! It just…feels sogood.

Rekosh made it feel so good.

He was always so protective of her, always so tender and caring. But she loved that he hadn’t treated her like she was made of glass when they had sex. Loved how he’d let instinct take control, loved how he’d fucked her.

Fortunately, before she could dwell on those thoughts any longer, they reached the top of the steps, and Rekosh trilled. The air rushed from Ahmya’s lungs at the sight before her.

They’d come to a pond, not much larger than an Olympic swimming pool, backed by a cliffside fraught with roots andvines. Several stone columns stood at the edges of the pond, most of them at least partially collapsed, their details worn beyond recognition. In a large alcove carved into the cliff directly ahead stood a towering piece of stonework.

Like everything else, it was damaged, worn, and covered in moss. But the shape it suggested was clear—a vrix. A female vrix.

She was kneeling, with her forelegs bent on the ground and three broken arms raised. The fourth arm, the only one that was complete, was outstretched over the pond, hand turned and closed in a fist.

The natural break in the jungle canopy created by this rise allowed the sunlight to fall freely upon the pond, bathing it in a warm golden glow that made the water shimmer. Bright suncrest flowers dotted the cliffside, their petals open to the sunshine, but they paled in comparison to the most unique feature of all—the flowers growing from the water.

Bright yellow blossoms with pointed petals stood on thin stalks just above the pond’s surface. The tallest of them were less than a foot high, while others were so low their bottom petals were touching the water. Big, spiky, fanlike leaves also grew from the stalks, reminiscent of palm leaves.

They were everywhere, almost entirely covering the pond, their petals so bright they nearly seemed to glow with their own light.

As Ahmya’s gaze ran over the blossoms, she was filled with a sense of nostalgia. These flowers reminded her so much of lotuses.

Excitement rushed through her. Ahmya took several steps forward before she abruptly stopped.

No, she’d been down this road before, and she wasn’t in any hurry to repeat being attacked by a blood thirsty, carnivorous plant.

She looked at Rekosh. “Is it safe?”

“The flowers, yes,” he replied, striding past her to the water’s edge. He extended his spear, disturbing the water’s surface with the butt end. Gentle ripples spread outward. Some of the plants swayed along with the tiny waves he’d created.

Rekosh stared at the pond for a time, and Ahmya moved up beside him. The water had a slight green tint, but it was relatively clear, allowing her to see the dark shapes of tiny, fishlike creatures flitting around amidst the roots and debris at the bottom.

“Looks safe,” he said, withdrawing the spear, “but stay close,kir’ani vi’keishi.”

She peered up at him. His body was tense, and she saw the wariness in his narrowed eyes as they swept over the pond and their surroundings. There was no question where his thoughts lay. He remembered when she’d been attacked by the firevine, and he still blamed himself for failing to protect her.

Ahmya settled a hand upon one of his arms. “It’s okay.”

Grunting, he turned his face toward Ahmya, his eyes holding hers until the tension bled from him. He stroked his foreleg along her calf above her boot. “I know.”

Nearly vibrating with giddiness, she lowered herself to her knees at the pond’s edge and laid down her spear. Bending forward with one hand planted firmly on the ground, Ahmya reached out and cupped one of the lush yellow flowers, drawing it closer. As she did so, she realized the petals were not as pure a yellow as they’d appeared from a distance, but were painted with splotches of bright red on their tops. That red filled the flowers’ centers.

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