Page 30 of The Delver
Is that so bad a thing?
Rekosh chittered. The sound broke Urkot from his thoughts, calling his attention to his friend.
“Powerful, is it not?” the red-marked vrix asked.
“What do you mean, weaver?” Urkot scraped a foreleg over the ground in an attempt to force the lingering tension out of his limbs.
“That desire, Urkot.”
Urkot glanced at Ketahn for aid, but Ketahn simply folded his arms across his chest, a hint of an amused glint visible in his eyes. Little Akalahn, who had been so vigorously playing not long before, was sound asleep in a basket strapped to Ketahn’s back despite all the noise.
Huffing, Urkot shook his head. The heat inside him had taken on a different feeling, skittering under his hide. “Speak plainly, Rekosh.”
The tall, spindly weaver leaned close to Urkot—far closer than was necessary—and whispered hoarsely. “You long for Callie. Long to claim her and rut her.”
With a grunt, Urkot planted a hand on Rekosh’s chest and shoved him away.
Rekosh chittered as he stumbled back a few steps.
“It does not take eight eyes to see you have wanted Callie for a long time,” Ketahn said, his mandibles ticking upward. “You alone did not accept it.”
“Why would I not accept my own desire?” Urkot asked as that insidious heat strengthened. He felt as transparent as the crystal he’d gifted Callie, as though his friends were staring right into him to see his thumping hearts and everything they contained.
“Because you feared she would not want you in return,” Rekosh replied in a gentle tone.
Those words coiled in Urkot’s chest, squeezing everything, constricting his breathing. His hands curled into fists.
Rekosh brushed a foreleg against Urkot’s. “I do not mean to anger you, my friend.”
The weaver’s familiar scent filled Urkot’s senses. They’d known one another for many, many years, had grown into adulthood together and faced horrors and hardships as brothers. After the war, Urkot and Rekosh had spent more time with one another than any of their group—with Ahnset having been busy as a Fang, Telok often away hunting, and Ketahn having moved his den to the Tangle to escape Takarahl.
As much as they teased one another, they’d never sought to inflict hurt. Not once in all those years.
“I know.” Urkot forced his fingers to loosen and his limbs to relax. “This need… The frenzy was clouding my mind. It…”
“We know how it feels,” Ketahn said solemnly.
“All too well,” Rekosh agreed.
Urkot inhaled slowly, shoving off the weight of their conversation, before looking between his two friends. “We are missing someone. Is Telok about?”
Chittering again, Rekosh glanced around. “If he is, he is using all his skills to remain out of sight.”
Carefully, Ketahn adjusted the lay of one of the basket straps across his chest. How a bit of movement could’ve jarred the broodling when all this sound had not was a mystery. “He does not care for such gatherings. Never has.”
Urkot huffed and stomped a foreleg. “We should drag him here regardless. He helped hunt for this food, and he is part of our tribe, part of Kaldarak. He is our family. Why should he not be here?”
Rekosh let out a thoughtful hum. “He will join when he is ready.”
“He should not hide himself away.”
“None of us should.” Ketahn was staring directly at Urkot, gaze heavy but nonjudgmental.
Mandibles twitching, Urkot looked past Ketahn toward the human females, who were dancing not twenty segments away.
His eyes naturally fell upon Callie. There was something different about the way she danced now. It was carefree, joyous, reflecting the wide, radiant smile on her face and the laughter in her sparkling eyes. Her movements weren’t sensual and seductive, but playful. And they were no less mesmerizing.
He could not help but look upon her with wonder. Her smooth brown skin, her curly hair, her soft lips and rounded curves. Her spirit, burning ever bright. Her mind, so quick, so knowledgeable. She was unlike anyone, and he wanted her for his own.
