Page 22 of The Weaver

Ahmya chuckled.

Ivy grinned at him. “It’s one or the other, spider man. Your choice. I know which one I choose.”

“I choose for you to be safe, Ivy.” His voice was raw and thick, and his face, though unable to change expressions, still managed to convey all that emotion and vulnerability. “You were in pain, and I could not help. Now you both are safe”—his eyes flicked to the baby—“and I will not risk you again.”

Her gaze softened, and she stroked her thumb across his jaw. “Childbirth is natural, Ketahn. There will always be risks, will always be pain, but that can’t stop us from living. Has it yet?”

Ketahn pressed his headcrest to Ivy’s forehead and trilled, caressing her cheek.

Blushing, Ahmya turned her eyes away. She couldn’t help but feel like an intruder during this intimate moment between the couple.

But she also felt a deep longing to share moments like this with someone. To experience the affection and adoration she’d only ever seen secondhand, to be the source of someone’s strength, to be supported in her own weakness. To share comfort, companionship, and laughter. She longed to share her life with someone.

Longed to beloved.

Her chest constricted, and she pressed a palm over it as though that could ease the growing ache of loneliness.

“Ahmya?” Ivy asked.

Ahmya blinked and looked back at Ivy. “Sorry. I…kind of…”

“It’s okay.” Ivy lifted the baby. “I asked if you would like to hold him.”

“Oh.” Ahmya’s heart quickened as she stared at the swathed baby. “Um...”

“He’s pretty sound asleep after eating, so he won’t fuss.”

“Okay.” Ahmya eased closer and held out her arms.

Ivy relinquished Akalahn into Ahmya’s care, showing her how to hold the baby. He was both smaller and heavier than Ahmya had expected.

She looked down at his sleeping face, and her breath caught.

Though Akalahn had four eyes, currently closed, and a pair of small, fanged mandibles, his features were surprisingly human. His little nostrils flared with his exhalations, and his lips stuck out in a gentle pout that was both amusing and endearing. Instead of a headcrest, he had a full head of black and gold hair.

Ahmya brushed a finger over his cheek. His black skin was soft and smooth, but there was a toughness to it that made her wonder if it would harden into a thick hide like his father’s.

He stirred, shifting his arms and causing the blanket to fall open, then yawned, revealing his baby fangs. As he settled, tucking all four of his arms against his chest, Ahmya smiled. His little hands—each with five fingers instead of the four typical of the vrix—curled into fists. Tiny black claws tipped those chubby fingers.

Since awakening on the crashed ship, Ahmya had felt like she’d been in a world of giants. But here was Akalahn, so small, so precious, so adorable. Far cuter than anything she had imagined.

The anxiousness swirling within her eased, though it didn’t fade completely.

“He’s beautiful,” Ahmya said, gently rocking the baby.

“He is,” Ivy replied. “I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, we all thought I was going to lay eggs.”

Ahmya chuckled. “Now we can all rest assured that there will be no egg laying.”

We, Ahmya?

I’m not talking to you anymore.

Still, Ahmya couldn’t help but picture a vrix baby of her own, one with red markings instead of purple.

“Coming in!” announced a familiar feminine voice. “Hope your boob isn’t popped out. Not that I’d care.”

The curtain door flipped open, brightening the den momentarily as Lacey swept inside, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. “You got ole fuddy-duddy on guard duty?”

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