Page 28 of The Weaver

But she couldn’t stop herself from picturing it in her mind. Though she didn’t know what his cock looked like, she imagined his long, clawed fingers tangling in her hair, imagined those crimson eyes blazing down at her before his head fell back in pleasure, imagined his lean, powerful muscles flexing beneath his dark hide. What sounds would he make? How would he react to her taking his cock into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue?

What would he taste like?

Ahmya’s sex clenched. Her heart pounded fiercely, and her skin heated as the ache in her core sharpened. She gripped the straps of her backpack and released a quiet, shuddering breath, keeping her face forward. How could a little daydream cause such a visceral reaction in her?

Because you want him. Admit it.

Ahmya could feel Rekosh’s presence behind her. Could feel his eyes on her.

This is going to be a long, long trip.

CHAPTER 6

Having returnedto Kaldarak only a few days ago, Rekosh had not intended to leave again so soon. Yet he was unsurprised by the eagerness that lightened his stride and carried him onward as Garahk led their group into the Tangle.

Because he strode alongside Ahmya.

He could feel her joy as clearly as he felt the breeze or the warm sunshine against his hide. Perhaps he should have chided her for looking upon the jungle with wonder rather than wariness, for not being appropriately solemn and alert, but how could he have done so?

The whole group was in a bright mood. The birth of Akalahn was the talk of Kaldarak, and the thornskulls were determined to celebrate with the fullness of their hearts, just as they had when Nalaki and Garahk’s first brood hatched more than a moon cycle ago. The hunters were invigorated and excited, chatting freely and jesting often. Rekosh was given no shortage of words to translate between the human females and the vrix.

When he wasn’t translating, he remained vigilant, studying their surroundings not only to watch for danger, but to learnthe path—especially after they journeyed beyond familiar ground.

Once again, Rekosh was trekking into the unknown.

But his attention always found its way back to Ahmya. Often there was good reason for it—the rocky, uneven ground in this part of the jungle presented many obstacles to the humans, and Rekosh never hesitated to offer aid.

Any reason to touch Ahmya was too precious to ignore. The feel of her hand in his, of her soft, warm flesh against his rough hide, of her heartbeat fluttering beneath his fingertips on her wrist; it was all maddening, all blissful. And the way her cheeks pinkened almost every time he touched her only made him ache with longing and adoration.

Rekosh adjusted the strap of his bag. The movement of the yatin hide against his back was far more significant than it should’ve been.

He wasn’t sure why he’d packed the silk dress and its matching foot coverings. It had been a compulsion as he’d rushed into his den to gather his belongings, an instinct that had driven him to wrap the gifts in a secure bundle of cloth and leather and tuck them away in his bag. He’d done so knowing full well the nature of this journey.

They were out here to hunt and forage for food for Kaldarak. When did he expect to have time to give the gifts to Ahmya? When did he expect to have the privacy to do so?

Rekosh didn’t care who witnessed his declaration to her. He would’ve made it before every eye in Takarahl and Kaldarak alike; this group of rugged thornskull hunters would not deter him. He had no shame for his feelings for Ahmya.

But he didn’twantonlookers.

No, when he presented his gifts and spoke the words that had for so long thrummed along his heartsthread, it would be for Ahmya alone. He would not have her distracted by anyone or anything else.

Only he would see her don his gift.

And then he would claim her.

His stem stirred at the very thought, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing a growl. He willed his claspers tighter against his pelvis to ensure his slit didn’t bulge.

He’d never hungered for anything like he hungered for her. How would her body fit with his? How tight would her slit be around his stem, how deeply would her blunt claws rake his hide? What sounds would she make, what ways would she move?

Was her hunger as desperate and insatiable as his own?

He yearned to see fire in her eyes as their bodies moved in unison. Yearned to feel the blaze that threatened to consume him whenever he looked upon her echoed in her heart, in her core, radiating through her skin.

He yearned to taste her.

Rekosh’s eyes moved to her now, and he watched as she and Lacey steadied each other to climb to the top of a small but steep incline.

Hints of muscle moved beneath the skin of Ahmya’s bare legs, a subtle glimpse of her surprising strength and endurance. She was thinner than the other humans—petitewas the word he’d heard them use—but he found limitless appeal in her form.

---