Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
With held breath, Rekosh pressed the tip of the bone needle into the silk. His whole world was silent and still but for his fingers and that needle. This was the moment. After more than an eightday of toil in Takarahl and three days more work here in Kaldarak, his vision was finally about to be complete.
The needle pierced the fabric. He pinched it between forefinger and thumb and drew it fully through. His hearts thumped as he carefully pulled the fine thread taut, tied it off, and trimmed the excess with a small blackrock knife.
Rekosh slowly released his breath through his nose holes. Somehow, that only made his chest tighter. His fingers ached and his hands trembled as he set the needle and thread aside. Angling the tiny foot covering, he studied the lacy embellishments he’d just finished attaching around its opening.
His mandibles rose. The white silk was strong and durable, and the bottom of each covering was reinforced with thick, supple leather. Pleasing to the eye and capable—just like Ahmya.
He slid his fingers further into the shoe and spread them. It was snug just where it should have been. Rekosh could only hope that his measurements were correct. He’d had only guesswork and the memory of how his hands fit on Ahmya’s body to go by, and his opportunities to touch her had been limited even before his return to Takarahl.
Setting the foot covering beside its companion, he took hold of the dress and lifted it. The sunlight coming in through the window of his den struck the garment, setting off hints of color in the undyed silk.
The material was so finely woven that it was sheer, making its intricately stitched adornments stand out. Flower and leaf patterns ran across the silk, placed with consideration as to what part of Ahmya’s body they would cover—like those tender mounds of flesh humans called breasts . The flecks of white crystal he’d sewn into the patterns caught the light and set the garment aglow as he turned it.
The dress was lovely, and, at a glance, exceedingly delicate. But much like the female he’d made it for, the garment was far tougher than appearances suggested.
He hadn’t been boasting when he’d told his friends that this was his finest work. Neither Takarahl nor Kaldarak had ever seen its like, and it was the perfect gift for an alluring little creature whose kind was also unlike anything the vrix had ever seen.
“No more waiting,” he said.
From the instant he’d first seen her, Rekosh had been drawn to Ahmya. Her appearance had intrigued him—small and lithe, with soft, pale skin. She was different from his kind, his opposite in many ways, and he found such beauty in it. Such beauty in her strange, rolling brown eyes, which glittered in the sunlight, in the silken shimmer of her black hair, in the malleability of her lips when they curled into a smile or fell in a frown. In the light, lyrical sound of her laughter and the soothing gentleness of her voice.
His want for her, his need , had grown day by day, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to control his instincts. Everything inside him demanded he wrap her in his silk and claim her as his mate.
And his recent visit to Takarahl had only further proven to him that the time had come.
Zurvashi was gone, Ahnset ruled Takarahl, the humans had settled in Kaldarak, and peace had been made between the two vrix cities.
Rekosh would wait not a moment longer to claim his little flower.
Mindful of the decorative stitching, he folded the dress and laid it on a large piece of cloth. Folding the cloth over the dress, he plucked up the tiny foot coverings and set them atop it before wrapping the items into a neat, snug bundle.
In his mind’s eye, he saw his long, claw-tipped fingers sliding those foot coverings onto Ahmya’s feet, saw her remove her human clothing to reveal the soft, smooth flesh beneath before she pulled on the dress, saw the sheer silk— his silk—caress her skin, and?—
No. I will not imagine. I will see it myself with all eight eyes and both hearts.
With his lower arms, Rekosh clutched the bundle to his abdomen and rose fully, stepping back from the table. He brushed aside the many-colored pieces of silk and bundles of dried flowers—the latter of which had all been gifts from Ahmya—hanging from the ceiling as he strode to the doorway. The scents of those flowers, though faded, filled his nose. As sweet as they were, they could not compare to the only fragrance he longed to have in his den.
Ahmya’s fragrance.
Soon.
The dress would demonstrate his skill, declare his intentions, and convey his feelings, his want, his passion and dedication. It would speak all the words he’d not yet dared to say .
Sweeping open the heavy cloth hanging across the doorway, Rekosh stepped outside.
Warm, pleasant air flowed over his hide, redolent of growing plants, roasting food, and mist from the nearby waterfall. Though he and his companions had lived here for only a few moon cycles, he’d greatly missed its air while he’d been away.
Towering trees with lush leaves surrounded him, their trunks stretching both above and below. Kaldarak’s buildings stood upon platforms built around the tree trunks and atop the thickest boughs, their walls and roofs crafted of interwoven wood, leaves, and silk. A network of bridges connected the platforms in a weblike pattern.
When the shadowstalker vrix of Takarahl had made war on the thornskulls seven years ago, they’d often spoken of striding to Kaldarak and burning it to ash. But by the time they’d reached this side of the mire that separated the territories of the two cities, Rekosh and his friends had all but lost their drive to do so. Their eyes had been opened. The lives of their companions, their friends, had been thrown away for the queen’s greed.
Zurvashi had begun the war to seize the areas where mender root grew in abundance—not because of the root’s healing properties, but because it could be used to make her favorite shade of purple dye. It didn’t matter that the thornskulls had freely traded the roots with the shadowstalkers. The queen had decided that she needed to seize those grounds and hoard the root for herself.
Urkot had lost an arm, Rekosh, Ketahn, and Telok had collected countless scars, and Ishkal, Ketahn’s broodbrother—along with so many other shadowstalkers—had died, all so Zurvashi could hang purple silk from her belt.
Having obtained what she’d wanted, Zurvashi had grown disinterested in making war on the thornskulls, and had withdrawn her army before they could march on Kaldarak. Rekosh doubted that she’d known how many of her warriors had lost their will to fight, doubted she’d known how many of them had been ready to abandon her cause and go home.
But that knowledge wouldn’t have made a difference. The queen had only ever taken her own feelings into account.
He never would’ve imagined he’d see this place, much less that he and his companions would live here in peace and friendship with the very vrix they had so brutally battled years before. Yet he already felt more at home in Kaldarak than he had in Takarahl for a long, long time.
Rekosh navigated Kaldarak with ease. By now, he could’ve gone from his den to Ahmya’s even with his eyes shrouded, moving only by touch and memory. How many times had he made this trek? How many times had he watched over the female he yearned to make his, speaking every word but those his hearts urged him to share?
Though he greeted the thornskulls he passed as he traveled, he did not stop to make conversation as he normally would have.
No whispers on the web today. No gossip, no rumors, no amusing stories. Each step was faster than his last, carrying him with increasing speed toward his destination.
Toward his destiny.
During his visit to Takarahl, he’d been painfully aware of the threads of fate, which had been pulled taut despite remaining tangled. But as he and his friends had made their return, he’d sensed those threads winding together in harmony. They’d formed a rope infinitely stronger than any individual thread.
A tether leading him directly back to Ahmya.
The arrival of Rekosh and his tribe had led to an expansion of this city. Skilled thornskull crafters had built three new platforms on one of the massive trees, connecting them to the rest with bridges made of thickly woven silk cord. Sturdy steps linked the platforms to one another, making them easy for the humans to travel between.
The lowest, widest platform held the two largest structures. One was a place where the humans could gather to share meals and words—a place to hang out , as they said. Beside it was the den shared by Will and Diego, which was nearly thrice the size of the other human dens. That size was necessitated by its dual purposes as both a living space for a mated pair and a place of healing, where they tended to humans and vrix alike.
The highest tier held Cole’s den, which stood out thanks to the large wooden deck he’d built around it. Between the deck’s low railing with its carved posts and the chairs and table he’d fashioned to occupy it, nothing else in Kaldarak looked quite the same.
But it was the middle platform that always caught Rekosh’s attention, with its three small dens—Callie’s on the left, Lacey’s in the middle, and Ahmya’s on the right, where the platform flared out and grew more spacious.
His hearts thumped as he looked toward her den. She was outside, standing with her back to Rekosh and strands of her long black hair fluttering in the breeze. Only her head and shoulders were visible from his vantage.
He quickened his pace, bounding across the rope bridge to reach the human platforms with the gift tucked securely against his abdomen.
Rekosh had gone an entire moon cycle without seeing or speaking to her, and much longer without declaring the claim he’d felt in his hearts for so long.
He raced across the lower platform and up the stairs to the next. He didn’t even glance at Callie and Lacey’s dens as he passed them, keeping his eyes forward in anticipation of the moment when the platform’s gentle curve would bring Ahmya back into view .
Words tumbled through his mind, forming a hundred things he could say to her, a hundred ways to make his claim. But which were the right words? Which would truly express his yearning, his adoration?
Could he even properly express his feelings in her language?
Then his gaze settled upon her, and his heartsthread thrummed, casting aside all his doubts.
His vi’keishi —his little flower—who shone as brightly as the sun.
She was facing her den, arms crossed over her chest, with one hip cocked and her lips curled in amusement.
Rekosh’s mandibles twitched upward in a smile, but they fell when his gaze ran over her body. Rather than a blue jumpsuit or the white shirt and shorts she and the other humans normally wore, she was dressed in bright pink silk—one piece wrapped around her chest, revealing her stomach, another tied around her waist and hanging to her knees.
He clenched his fingers, pressing his claws against his palms, and only barely held back a growl. He longed to tear that silk from her body not because it was inferior, which it certainly was, but because it wasn’t his . She deserved to wear only the finest silk.
She was meant to wear only Rekosh’s silk.
Ahmya laughed. The light, musical sound chased away Rekosh’s tension, soothed his spirit, and tugged directly on his heartsthread, beckoning him to her a little quicker.
Calm yourself, Rekosh. Patience. She is yours to claim, and she will never again wear anyone’s silk but yours.
As he neared Ahmya’s den, movement from the left caught his attention. Rekosh stilled.
Cole was kneeling in front of the window, holding the ends of a silk rope that was looped around a halved log. A second rope was tied off around the other end of the log, suspending it from a framework of thick branches that jutted out from the top of the window.
“This good?” Cole asked in English.
“A little higher,” Ahmya said.
“You said that last time, and then it ended up being too high!”
Last time? How often had Cole visited Ahmya during Rekosh’s absence? What else had the male human done for her?
She laughed again. “Not my fault you yanked it too hard.”
Cole snickered. “No such thing as yanking it too hard.”
“Oh, you’re so gross.”
Rekosh tilted his head. He knew their words, but Ahmya’s tone implied deeper meaning, which humans always seemed to weave into their language.
And from what he had observed, they seemed most fond of using unrelated words to suggest?—
“I’m just a man with basic human needs. It’s not like I’m asking anyone else to yank it for me. Unless you want to?—”
Face reddening, Ahmya jabbed a finger at the male. “Stop right there! It’s never going to happen, Cole.”
To suggest mating.
Though Rekosh did not fully understand, the humans were able to twist seemingly any word in their language to imply something sexual. Based on their tones—and Ahmya’s reaction—that was exactly what Cole was doing now.
Heat flared in Rekosh’s chest and skittered outward beneath his hide. Squeezing his fists, he closed the distance between himself and the humans.
“Aw, come on,” Cole continued. “I can’t hel?—”
“I will yank it,” Rekosh growled.
Both humans started, with Ahmya drawing in a sharp breath, and Cole uttering a curse as he fumbled to keep hold of the small log .
“Shit, man!” Cole jerked his face toward Rekosh. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Rekosh!” Ahmya exclaimed with a bright smile, flashing her flat, white teeth. “Did you just get back?”
“No,” Rekosh replied as gently as he could manage, extending a foreleg to brush along Ahmya’s bare calf. Her alluring scent teased him.
But neither the sweetness of her scent nor the softness of her skin quenched the fire inside him. His fingers squeezed the bundled gift, his mandibles twitched closer together, and his hide bristled. Tension coursed through his limbs. Though he longed for nothing more than to hoist Ahmya against his chest and carry her to his den, Rekosh glared at Cole.
The tufts of fur over Cole’s eyes, his eyebrows, knitted together. “Uh…hi?”
“Did you hear my words, human?” Rekosh extended his upper hands, splaying his fingers before hooking his claws. “I will yank it.”
Cole shuddered and let out an unsteady laugh. “Going to go out on a limb and guess that you don’t even know what it is.”
Rekosh strode closer to Cole, ignoring the rumbling in his chest. The human laid the halved log on the platform and pushed himself to his feet.
“I know it cannot be yanked too hard,” Rekosh said.
Cole’s laughter was more confident this time. “So what is it then, man?”
“Show me. Then we will learn if you speak true.”
Shaking his head, Cole ran his fingers through his yellow hair. “Rekosh, it was a joke about?—”
“The rope,” Ahmya said hurriedly as she stepped up beside Rekosh, her cheeks bright red.
Mandibles drooping, Rekosh gazed at her. “The rope?”
She nodded and pointed at the wooden framework. “He was just joking about the rope he’s using to hang the planturr . ”
“Sure I was,” Cole said with a chuckle, rubbing the short hairs on his jaw.
Rekosh looked from Ahmya to the halved log. It had been hollowed out to form a basin with a few small holes through the bottom. “I know plant, but what is planturr ?”
Cole crouched and lifted the log, laying it across his thighs. “It’s for growing plants. Toss in some dirt and bury your seeds. These”—he pointed to the holes—“are for draynidge . I got the idea when I found a natural hollow inside a log I split, and I figured Ahmya might like it.”
She smiled. “I love it. It was really thoughtful of you, Cole. Thank you.”
The hairs upon Rekosh’s legs rose.
This planter was a gift—a handcrafted gift, from a male to a female. Paired with their talk of yanking it , which Rekosh knew was not about rope, this could only be interpreted in one way.
Cole was attempting to claim Ahmya.
He was challenging Rekosh.
Cole grinned. “No problem. I’ve got nothing but free time and wood out here, so I can make more if you want.”
Growling, Rekosh gnashed his mandibles. “She does not need your wood, human.”
The male stood, tucking the planter under his arm. “That one’s so easy I’m not even going to say anything, out of respect for Ahmya. And because you’re clearly in a bad mood. You have a spool of thread unravel in your bag on the way home or something?”
“Did you stuff your head with wood dusts?”
“You mean sawdust?”
“It cannot be seen between your ears.”
“Not what sawdust means, man. Maybe take a moment to chill?”
Rekosh snapped his fangs. His hearts pounded, forcing prickly heat into his limbs .
A challenge was something to face head-on. A challenger was someone to be crushed. The only claim that would be made upon Ahmya was Rekosh’s, and he would refute any other with fury and ferocity.
“Is everything okay, Rekosh?” Ahmya asked. Though she didn’t touch him, she moved close enough to Rekosh that he felt disturbed air flow across his hide, and his fine hairs absorbed her scent.
He drew in more of that fragrance through his nose holes and turned his head toward her. Concern dwelled in the crease between her brows, in the depths of her brown eyes, in her subtle frown.
I am not going to battle a human. I am not going to harm a member of my tribe.
“What is not okay will be in a small time,” Rekosh replied. “Soon.”
“Aaaanyway…” Cole rocked back on his heels before shifting the planter into his hands. “Going to go ahead and finish this up if that’s okay with you, Rekosh?”
“I will help.” Rekosh snatched the planter out of Cole’s hands and held it up to the window, ignoring the other male’s protest. He looked at Ahmya over his shoulder. “Here?”
“Thanks,” Cole muttered.
Grinning, Ahmya stepped back to observe. She lifted her hands. “Just a little higher.”
Rekosh eased the planter up, moving it barely a threadspan at a time.
“There!” Ahmya called, thrusting her palms out. “Perfect.”
Chittering, Rekosh raised his mandibles in a smile and turned it toward Cole.
“Just keep it still, you smuhg bassterd ,” Cole grumbled as he looped the ropes into place.
Though Rekosh held his arms utterly still, his eyes moved freely, following Cole’s fingers. “Your knot is ungood. ”
Cole glared at Rekosh and tugged the knot tighter. “Ungood isn’t a word.”
Rekosh barely suppressed a growl. Why did the humans’ language have to be so unnecessarily complicated, so inconsistent? “I have seen broodlings make knots better than this.”
“Yeah, well you’re more than welcome to?—”
“Hold.” Rekosh shifted the log toward Cole, who grasped it with a blank expression on his face. Rekosh’s hands worked without need for thought, tying off the rope with an elegant but strong knot before untying and resecuring the other rope to match.
When he was done, Rekosh stepped back. Cole did the same, releasing the planter to let it hang. The log swayed gently, almost imperceptibly, in the breeze.
The human male braced his hands on his hips. “Looks pretty damn good.”
Ahmya ran her fingers along the top of the log. “Thank you. I can’t wait to grow something inside it.”
Tilting his head, Rekosh regarded the planter. His knots were the finest part; nothing else about it bore any elegance or refinement. Now that Rekosh was back, Cole’s attempted claim was meaningless. There was no competition here.
“Thank you for helping, Cole,” said Rekosh. “Safe journey to your den.”
“Wow. Did you just tell me to fuck off?” Cole folded his arms over his chest, the corner of his mouth lifting in an amused half smile.
“Not fuck ,” Rekosh growled, pointing toward Cole’s den. “Go.”
“Easy guys,” Ahmya said, placing herself between them. “We’re all friends, right?”
Rekosh clenched his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. It took a surprising effort to keep from clacking his mandible fangs at Cole .
Cole brushed his hands off on his pants. “I’m totally cool, Ahmya.”
She looked at Rekosh again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did something happen?”
Cole’s smile stretched across the rest of his mouth. “Pretty sure it has more to do with what hasn’t happened.”
By that mirthful light in his eyes and the teasing tone of his voice, Cole’s implication was apparent.
Rekosh wasn’t sure whether to be angry that Cole was implying mating again or angry that he was right.
“Lighten up, man.” Cole patted Rekosh’s shoulder.
Rekosh glanced at the human’s hand. “You are right, it is about what has not happened. I have not yet dropped you from Kaldarak. I am curious what would happen.”
Narrowing his eyes, Cole tilted his head. “Human go spuhlat , is what would happen. Look, I’m used to a friendly death threat from Ketahn and Telok every now and then, but it’s not usually your thing. So”—Cole lifted his hands, palms toward Rekosh, and took a step back—“I’ll just leave you to it. We’ll talk when your, uh…balls aren’t so blue.”
“Cole!” Ahmya gasped.
“Oh, that’s right. They’re not blue, they’re red. Same color as your face right now, Ahmya.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. Her next words were muffled. “Just go, please. Before I push you over the side myself.”
Laughing, Cole walked away, turning after a few steps to say, “Maybe if you two finally figure your shit out, you can throw me over together. It could be your first dayt .”
Chest rumbling, Rekosh advanced toward Cole. Though the human was retreating, Rekosh’s instincts remained on alert, and they insisted this was a challenge even if he knew at heart that Cole was only teasing. “If I throw him now, will you tell me what his words mean, Ahmya? ”
She lowered her hands and glanced up at Rekosh, offering him a smile, but she didn’t hold his gaze. In fact, she seemed to look everywhere but at him. “So…you’ve been back for a little while then?”
He released a long, slow breath as he studied her. The bundle clutched in his lower hands felt so much heavier in that moment, its weight only increasing as that internal fire shifted from rage to something softer but no less intense.
“Three days,” Rekosh said. “I was… I had much to attend.” He brought his upper forearms together. “Forgive me. I should have come to you more soon.”
Finally, Ahmya tipped her head back and met his gaze. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize, Rekosh. It’s just when I saw that Urkot and Telok were back, I wondered if you had stayed in Takarahl since you were nowhere to be seen.”
His mandibles rose. Strange how naturally that expression came to him. It was not so profound a look on a vrix face, perhaps, but when humans smiled, when Ahmya smiled, their features were transformed.
And he’d gone much too long since he’d last seen her smile.
Since he’d last seen her smile at him .
“I could not stay. My place is here, my tribe is here.” Rekosh stared into her eyes. Their warm brown was so expressive, so deep and inviting. “You are here.”
Ahmya’s eyes flared. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a strained laugh as she dropped her gaze. “Well, where else would I be?”
A thoughtful trill sounded in Rekosh’s throat. “You were to be in Xolea, and I was to be in Takarahl. But we are here now. Together.”
She peeked up at him. “Don’t you…don’t you miss Takarahl? You lived there your whole life.”
“Do you miss Earth?” he asked gently .
Ahmya drew in a slow, deep breath, and again looked at her surroundings. “Sometimes. There are some things I miss.” She met his gaze, and her smile returned, this time softer, warmer. “But not enough to want to go back. I love it here.”
Rekosh curled his fingers tight to keep from reaching for her. “I feel the same about Takarahl. It is more good—better—here, where I can see the sky and sun. Where I can see…flowers.”
Though her cheeks retained their pink stain, Ahmya did not look away from him this time, and Rekosh did not miss the flicker of delight in her eyes.
“But don’t you have family there who will miss you?” she asked.
Rekosh’s hearts stuttered, and something coiled tight around them. “Only Ahnset.”
“We all miss her.” Ahmya folded her hands against her belly. “But…I’m glad you made it back safely.”
His chest swelled, flooding with warmth.
My female is happy to see me.
His eyes dipped to follow her hands. A trail of small pink scars ran across her stomach, disappearing beneath the silk of her skirt; marks of his failure to shield her from danger.
That warmth faded as quickly as it had come.
Had Ivy been any slower to react, Ahmya would’ve been killed by a firevine. The plant’s tendril would’ve wrapped around her slender throat, piercing her flesh with its venomous thorns, and taken her from Rekosh right before his eyes.
Had I been faster, I could have spared them both from harm. Had I been more observant...
Never again.
He extended one of his upper arms and took her hand, guiding it away from her belly before curling his fingers closed around it. Her hand was so small within his own .
Rekosh drew her closer. “Ahmya, I must share words with you.”
“Words? What…what kind of words?” She chuckled nervously. “Aren’t we sharing words right now?”
With her hand in his, he felt her faintly trembling, and almost swore he could feel the fluttering beat of her heart. His hearts thumped faster in response. He raised the bundled dress a little higher, but he did not yet offer it to her. “Words from my heartsthread, kir’ani vi’keishi . Words?—”
“ Diego! ” a vrix shouted in a deep, booming voice.
Rekosh’s fine hairs rose, and his head snapped toward Ketahn’s distressed call. Ahmya withdrew her hand from his and turned to look as well.
Ketahn was racing across a rope bridge, moving toward the human platforms, with Ivy clutched in his arms. Rekosh had never seen anyone traverse Kaldarak with such speed; even the wild swaying of the bridge beneath Ketahn’s legs did not slow him.
“What’s wrong?” Ahmya asked. “Is it the baby?”
“I do not know,” Rekosh replied.
It had to be the broodling finally coming. Because if it was something else, if Ivy was ill or injured, or…
When Ketahn reached the solid platform beneath Rekosh and Ahmya, his legs carried him even faster. He called for Diego again before barging into the human healer’s den. Muffled voices rose from inside the den, but Rekosh could not understand their words.
“What’s going on?” Cole called from his deck above.
Callie ran across the platform, stopping beside Rekosh. “Was that Ketahn yelling?”
“I think it’s the baby,” Ahmya said. “Diego said it could be any day now.”
“Already?” Cole asked as he briskly moved down the steps from his platform .
Will rushed out of the den below. The dark-brown-skinned male was dressed only in pants, and his chest and shoulders heaved with his rapid breaths.
Cole leaned over the edge of the platform. “Will! What’s going on?”
Will looked up. “Baby’s coming. We need all the cloth you guys can spare.”
“On it!” Callie said, running toward her den.
Ahmya and Cole also hurried to their dens, leaving Rekosh alone.
At least until Lacey emerged from her den, brows drawn together. She looked at Rekosh. “Why’s everyone yelling?”
“Ivy’s broodling is coming.”
Her green eyes widened. “For real? Holee shit!”
When the other humans returned, Rekosh accompanied them to the lower platform, where Will took the cloth they’d gathered before going back into his den. There were others arriving now—curious and concerned thornskulls who’d heard Ketahn’s shouts.
Rekosh bade one of them inform Telok and Urkot, while sending another to report to Kaldarak’s daiya —their queen—Nalaki, and her mate Garahk.
The humans stood a few segments away from the entrance of Diego and Will’s den, from which muffled voices and cries could be heard.
“Isn’t this too soon?” Lacey asked.
“The vrix said their eggs take four months to hatch,” Callie replied. “And from what Ivy said, it’s been about that long since she thinks she got pregnant.”
“Yeah, but it’s nine months for humans,” said Cole. “Shouldn’t it be like…six and a half for this? Meet in the middle?”
“The days here are longer than on Earth,” Ahmya said. “So it’s technically been longer. ”
Callie sighed and shook her head, her long, thick, curly black hair swaying. “And that’s not how any of this works anyway, Cole.”
Lacey crossed her arms over her chest. “All of this is unknown for us.”
Ahmya pressed her fists against her chin as she cast a worried look toward the den. “Do you think she’ll…she’ll be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Callie said solemnly. “But I guess we’ll find out if humans and vrix are truly compatible.”
Mandibles sagging, Rekosh studied Ahmya. There was a glimmer of fear in her eyes. The humans had explained that there were risks for them in birthing young without a hozpitul , that they faced inherent dangers. Would Ahmya be hesitant to mother a brood because of that?
Humans were small to begin with, and Ahmya was smallest of all. Would her body be able to endure the ordeal?
That uncertainty sent a shiver across Rekosh’s hide. He only barely resisted the urge to reach for her, wrap his arms around her, and draw her against his body, to shelter her in his embrace. Instead, he tucked the bundled dress beneath his arm, accepting that the moment had passed.
For the first time in a long, long while, he was tempted to pray. He was tempted to beg the Eight to see Ivy and her broodling through this, to keep them safe and unharmed. Because Ivy was part of his tribe. Ivy was his friend, his family, the mate of a vrix who was Rekosh’s brother in all but blood.
And if she did not survive this, if humans could not birth vrix broodlings, it would mean Rekosh could not claim his Ahmya…because he would not risk her life.
But if all went well, if Ivy and Ketahn’s broodling was birthed without complication, it would mean…
Everything .
It would mean that despite all their differences, vrix and humans were destined for each other. That they were meant to be.
He clenched his fists.
“Ivy and her broodling will be fine,” Rekosh said, meeting Ahmya’s gaze as she looked up at him. “She is strong. Ketahn is strong. Their little one will be strong too.”