Page 28 of Theirs to Crave

“Hellt,” Zafett said, nodding encouragingly as he crouched and patted the furs.

Lay down. That made sense. Sure. I could do that.

I hesitated, then—tugging on my tunic in a vain attempt to stretch it a few inches—laid down. I couldn’t relax, my eyesand thighs squeezed shut. My fingers trembled as I gripped the ragged hem of my only protection, pulling it taut.

I could feel my breasts spilling out of the top, shaking as my breathing grew choppy. The flickering firelight was replaced with cold tables and pain, and a tear carved a wet path into my hair.

It was followed by another, and another. I don’t know how long I lay there, trapped in memories, but eventually I heard the snap of the fire. I dug mental fingers into it, listening hard. Fire was good. Hot, not cold like—I savagely jerked my thoughts back before I tumbled into the oubliette again.

I heard rustling, then something settled over me.

My eyes popped open. Zafett was hovering above, shifting from foot to foot, concern clear in every tense line of his body.

I lifted my head, looking down. A length of fabric covered me from shoulders to knees. It was textured, soft and rough at the same time. Like raw silk, kind of. I’d tried on a pair of raw silk pants one time at some hoity-toity boutique for fat women with lots of money and no taste. They made my fupa look like a balloon.

I blinked and let my head fall back to the furs.

He’d covered me.

It felt like my brain was struggling to reboot, and I just kept getting error messages.

Careful not to dislodge it, I slid my arms out and hugged the cloth to my chest, where gratitude swelled. I wiped my face messily on my shoulder, sniffling. Ugh, the water helped, but I needed to find some soap, pronto.

“Relyat,” I whispered to Zafett.

He nodded, but some indefinable wall had come between us. My tear-thickened voice and wobbly smile must not have been very convincing.

He sat and reached for my foot, hesitating when his fingers hovered a few inches away. “Het?” he asked, not meeting my eyes. I agreed, and he carefully lifted my foot. He ran his fingers over it—feeling the bones, I thought—before competently cleaning it, applying salve from the pot, and wrapping it with strips of cloth.

He moved up my body this way, skipping over my hips. He ran his hands over my stomach through the cloth, looking at me only enough to see if I flinched, then moved on to my arms.

Since he wouldn’t look at me, I watched him. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he gently pressed and rotated my arm, and the firelight made the yellow seem deeper, richer. His fur had dried to a shining white, short on his face, chest, and hands, flowing and silky everywhere else. His markings weren’t brown or black, but a gorgeous red. Old Hollywood starlet lipstick red.

It decorated his hands, his feet, and the tips of his hair and tail like he’d dipped them in henna. It covered his delicately carved muzzle, swirled up his cheekbones, and circled his eyes. His ears, mostly white, were tipped in the barest hint of crimson, as if they were blushing.

I flinched at something he did to my arm, but I couldn’t look away.

He was beautiful.

Chapter 8

Zaf

Estrayuh paused at the entrance of our den, her bicolored eyes wide as she looked around. What did she think of it? Was it as intriguing to her as she was to me? Was I? I burned to learn everything about her—where she came from, who her people were, what her life was like, how she and her people had gotten here.

The old songs told of hideous people from beyond the stars, people who brought death and left families weeping. I could believe the enemy creatures to be those people. None of the bodies in that clearing had been children oflenailot, and they had brought violence and terror with them.

But Estrayuh...she was not hideous. Her people were strange, yes. With no fur or scales to guard their soft flesh, no claws or fangs to bring down prey, and no tail or gripping feet to move through the trees. And they were small, and poorly furred. But their vulnerability and unexpected strength gave them a grace that went beyond the physical.

Especially Estrayuh. Svixa had spoken of how the Hyunan protected her, had tried to save her, even though she was already a captive of the enemies.

The fact that Estrayuh’s physical form—while different–was just as attractive as her spirit was making it difficult to concentrate. Her body was full and lush, with all the glorious curves of a mother ripe with kits. Litha’s tail had flicked with amusement when she caught me watching the small Hyunan. She was all too familiar with my fascination—although we had not chosen to try for kits, she was not above begging me to breed her when she wanted to see me utterly feral.

I’d seen how my mate’s eyes lingered on the other woman, though. Brave and beautiful was a tempting combination.

Estrayuh’s eyes finally settled on me. I pointed to the furs, inviting her to lie down. Svixa was sleeping in the nook where I cared for those who needed longer healing, but I’d arranged everything I thought I might need by the fire.

Those intriguing eyes dropped, widened, and the oddest expression came over her face. She wouldn’t urinate in the den, would she? But no, the expression disappeared, and she looked back at me.

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