Page 35 of Theirs to Crave

He was silent for a long while, then the tension seeped from his body.

“I may have overreacted,” he admitted with some embarrassment.

I rested my head against my fist and looked at him.

“My desire for her does not bother you?” Zaf asked hesitantly, searching my face.

“Of course not,” I huffed. “But we must act with caution. Their mating habits may not be like ours.”

“And she will need time,” he said thoughtfully. “More than her body needs healing, I think.”

“If you’re done,” Litha called, sounding amused. “I think you’re unsettling the strangers. And theshejneeds seeing to, or our evening meal will not impress our guests.”

I grunted and pushed myself onto all fours. Cleaningshejwas not as onerous as catching them, but cuddling my mate was a much more enjoyable activity. Zaf’s hand shot up, tangling in my head fur. I stilled, looking down at him.

“‘We’?” he questioned.

The fingers in my fur tightened when I said nothing.

Estrayuh was watching us from her seat by the fire, those unusual eyes hiding behind thick lashes and a fringe of dark fur. Our gazes met, and she flinched, but didn’t look away.

Brave little thing.

I let myself explore her body. The soft, curving lines were pleasing. Generous. She was staring back at me boldly when my eyes rose again, and the brightness in those brown orbs lit an ember in my gut. I blinked, slowly, and returned my attention to Zaf.

“We,” I confirmed.

I soaked in his delighted laughter like a flower opening to the sun. Giving him a quick nip, I got to my feet. I’d flipped open the basket and was just reaching for my knife when I heard a grunt that sounded like pain. And Estrayuh.

She was moving her head oddly, twisting it in all directions, with a grimace on her face that bared small flat teeth. As she did this, she played with her strange necklace, lifting it and rubbing the flesh beneath.

I remembered—with dawning horror—Svixa telling us that the enemies had attacked the strangers with those necklaces. Somehow, they’d trapped lightning in the things, and called it out at will. I’d forgotten. We all must have, in the rush to see everyone safe. I’d thought perhaps they were a sign of kinship, a familial marker, since they all wore one. But no. They were an imposition, something used against them by the enemy. Something that pained them still.

Incensed that I’d allowed my new kin to suffer in my own den, I strode to her. Too late, I realized I was both growling and brandishing a knife.

Estrayuh scuttled backward—which was both unnerving to watch and interesting, as there was a fair bit of bouncing—and I stilled.

With carefully exaggerated movements, I laid the knife on the floor while maintaining careful eye contact. Keeping my body low, I shaped my hands into a ring around my own neck.

Her face fur scrunched together, but she stopped fleeing, tilting her head to watch me curiously. She was indeed courageous.

“Hurt?” I asked.Rek, she probably had no idea what I was saying.

But her hands rose, touching her own necklace, and she nodded.

I tried to remember what words I knew she knew. “Yes?” I asked, patting my neck where the ring would lie. “Or no?” I jerked my hands apart, as if tearing the thing in two.

Estrayuh was on her feet so fast I barely caught her as she stumbled forward. She needed to take better care. Her feet were wounded, even if Zaf’s healing kept her from feeling the pain.

“No!” She cried, shaking her head so hard her fur whipped across her face. “Hurt!” She was pulling at the ring hard enough I worried she might damage herself further.

I placed a hand over hers to hold her still, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Kshh, Estrayuh. I willhellt.” The word calmed her, and she looked at me with such hope and gratitude I felt as tall as the mountains. I wouldgnawthe things off—even if it broke all my teeth—for a look like that.

Zaf and Litha crowded in beside me as Svixa explained what we were trying to do with a mix of hand motions and simple words. Together, we looked the awful thing over. It was smooth, like the rock we made our knives from, but darker and without any markings from tools or shaping. It was rounded, as if it had been sculpted from clay, but it was hard and cold like no clay I’d ever felt. Not even theiztekwe built our dens on was so hard.

“Do you think there is lightning inside, still?” Zaf asked, curiosity tangling with worry in his voice.

---