Page 63 of The Weaver

Her breath caught.

Sitting atop a layer of cloth was a pair of shoes—the most beautiful shoes she’d ever seen. They were dainty and elegant, made from white silk with intricate, lacy designs. She ran her fingers over them. They were soft right down to the light brown leather of their soles.

“You made me shoes?” she asked. It was a pointless question; of course he’d made them. But it had been prompted by her surprise. Vrix didn’t have feet, and though they sometimes wore adornments on their bodies, they didn’t wear clothing like humans did. For him to have made these was so thoughtful.

“Yes. Your boots are too big, and they will not…” Rekosh waved a hand. “Will not look…”

Ahmya chuckled and stuck her foot out, resting her boot on its heel and rocking it back and forth. “Look pretty?”

Rekosh met her gaze. “You are pretty.”

Heart fluttering and cheeks warming, she ducked her head and returned her attention to the gift. There was more beneath the shoes. Picking them up, she set them atop a rock before straightening and peeling back the cloth they’d been resting upon. The contrast between that piece of cloth and what was beneath it was like night and day.

Ahmya’s lips parted as she ran her fingers over the silk. It was so fine and soft, the softest she’d ever felt, even more sothan fluffed silk or the petals of the silkblossom. “Rekosh, is this…”

He carefully grasped the sides of that delicate material with his long, clawed fingers. As he lifted it, the fabric unfurled to reveal a gossamer dress.

She could do nothing but stare in awe as the dress swayed in the gentle breeze, a hint of opalescence playing across its surface.

Ketahn had made Ivy a dress—a wedding dress—after she’d told him about marriage. She’d been wearing it the day she’d awoken Ahmya and the other survivors from cryosleep. It had been strange yet beautiful, with intriguing, weblike designs and fine silk. But this dress…

The sleeveless garment had a low-cut neckline with flower and leaf patterns woven throughout the silk and embroidered lace along the hem. It was embellished not just with fine stitching, but tiny white crystals that sparkled in the sunlight. And the diaphanous material was so sheer that she could see Rekosh clearly through it. The only part of her body it would hide was her breasts, which the fullest patterns would cover.

This wasn’t a wedding gown; it was a dress befitting a wedding night.

She set aside the cloth and leather wrapping and brushed her fingertips over the front of the dress. “This is so beautiful, Rekosh.”

He trilled, mandibles rising, and held it a little closer to her. “It will only be truly beautiful when you wear it.”

Her blush spread, growing ever hotter, and Ahmya couldn’t ignore her anticipatory flash of desire for what would come after she put on the dress.

This was it. If she accepted this gift from Rekosh, she would be accepting him as hers. She would be allowing him toclaimher. It would be…

Well, it would be the same as getting married.

But as she stared at the gown, at craftsmanship beyond anything she’d ever imagined, she grew increasingly aware of the dirty, tattered silk wraps clinging to her. Aware of the sticky sheen of sweat covering her from head to toe, and the smudges of dirt the day’s travel had left on her skin.

She couldn’t wear that dress in her current state.

Ahmya lowered her hand. “Could I…bathe?”

Rekosh’s mandibles fell. He glanced at the dress and back to her. All eight eyes blinked. “Now?”

He thinks you’re rejecting him.

She raised her palms and waved them. “Oh! No, no, no. I’m not…” She gestured at herself. “I’m sweaty and filthy.”

“You are beautiful,vi’keishi.”

Ahmya bit her bottom lip as her heart melted just a little more. There was never a moment when he made her feel anything but beautiful and cherished.

And he is going to be mine.

“For humans, a bride prepares herself to face her groom. Her soon-to-be husband, her…mate.” Gathering her resolve, she stepped closer and settled her hands upon his, which still held the dress. “I want to do this for you, Rekosh.”

“Ahmya…” He gently tipped his headcrest against her forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “You accept me as yours? As your mate?”

“I do.”

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