Page 25 of The Weaver

“Except for Ketahn, Urkot, Rekosh, and Ahnset, he doesn’t seem to care to make any friends. He tolerates Cole. Like for real?Cole? But he can’t stand to even be near me?” Laceybrought Ahmya to a stop and lifted her arm high in the air, revealing the long, crude pink scar running along her inner bicep to her elbow. “So do I stink?”

Ahmya jerked back. “What?”

“Smell me. Do I stink?”

“You’re serious?”

“You have no idea how self-conscious he’s made me over this.” Lacey moved closer. “Come on, Ahmya, get in here and take a sniff.”

Ahmya laughed and shook her head before leaning toward Lacey’s armpit. She sniffed. She didn’t smell anything off-putting. All she could detect were the light floral notes from the homemade deodorant Lacey had concocted and traces of sweat, which was perfectly human.

Ahmya straightened. “You smell fine to me.”

“See!” Lacey lowered her arm. “He’s just mean.”

“He’s always been pretty stern. I wouldn’t let him get to you.” Ahmya looked ahead to the next platform to see a group of thornskulls near one of the main bridges leading out of Kaldarak. “We should hurry so we don’t keep them waiting.”

Lacey adjusted the strap of her backpack on her shoulder and stepped onto the bridge. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go be one with nature.”

Ahmya chuckled and grasped the rope handrail. “Aren’t we already that?”

“Ahmya!” Rekosh called from behind.

Her breath hitched. Stilling with one foot on the bridge, she turned to find him quickly striding toward her. Warmth suffused her, chasing away the slight morning chill, and her belly fluttered at the sight of him.

The thornskulls of Kaldarak were big, broadly built vrix. Ketahn, Rekosh, and the others from Takarahl were shadowstalkers, whose bodies tended to be leaner and more graceful but no less powerful. Yet even amongst them, Rekosh wasespecially lithe and elegant. Of all the males, he was second only to Ketahn in height, and his limbs were long and svelte.

She’d heard the word spindly used to describe him, but to Ahmya, that implied a fragility that didn’t fit him at all. His shoulders were broad, and lean, solid muscle flexed beneath his hide. She’d seen Rekosh fight. There was untold strength in him, and a ferocity that should have frightened her. Yet he’d shown her nothing but gentleness.

The rays of light breaking through the canopy made the unique crimson markings on his headcrest, wrists, and leg joints stand out and lit up the strands of red and white in his braided black hair. Back on Earth, that shade of red meant danger. It was the same color as the marking on a black widow’s belly, which had been the first thing Ahmya had thought of when she’d met Rekosh.

But that color had come to mean so much more. It had become safety, comfort, and caring.

He stopped a few steps away from Ahmya, mandibles twitching. His eyes flicked from her to the thornskulls on the other side of the bridge. “You are going?”

Ahmya reached up and caught the strands of hair blowing across her face in the wind, tucking them behind her ear. “We’re going to help gather food and look for herbs. I also want to explore a little more.”

Rekosh’s eyes widened, and a low, unhappy sound rumbled from his chest. “You are going only with them? No others?”

Both Lacey and Ahmya turned their heads toward the waiting thornskulls. Garahk was amongst them, leading the party, which was comprised of several male hunters.

Ahmya’s brow creased. “Um…yeah?”

“Not enough to protect you,vi’keishi.”

Her eyes widened, and that fluttering in her belly intensified.

Lacey chuckled. “How much trouble could Ahmya get into that fourteen beefy vrix wouldn’t be enough protection?”

Rekosh blinked, tilting his head. “What isbeefee?”

Lacey flexed her arms. “Big, strong, muscular.”

He huffed. “I am strong.”

“But you’re not beefy.”

Rekosh narrowed his crimson eyes. “I do not need to bebeefeeto protect Ahmya.”

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