Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
Ahmya lay on her belly atop a blanket spread over a carpet of thick grass. Her arms were folded beneath her head, her eyes were closed, and her lips were curled in a soft smile.
The evening sun was warm upon her damp skin, and the spring burbled soothingly nearby. This spot, here and now, was a little piece of paradise, providing a welcome respite from the hardships of the last couple days. And she never would’ve envisioned herself in a place like this—relaxing beside a crystal-clear pool in the middle of the jungle, naked, with Rekosh lying on his side next to her.
A delightful shiver coursed through her as Rekosh leisurely brushed a silkblossom along her back. The soft petals followed her spine, dipping into the arch of her lower back before rising over the curve of her ass. The gesture was as loving as it was teasing.
Heat simmered in her belly, and desire burned in her core, but Ahmya was content to simply relish the moment. And as much as she craved to feel Rekosh’s cock inside her again, to feel that fullness, that closeness, that connection, she was exhausted from their fierce lovemaking. Her muscles were sore, she had bruises and scratches from his rough, possessive grip, red chafe marks from the silk bindings, and her shoulder stung where Rekosh had bitten her and left his mark.
She had been well and thoroughly fucked.
And she’d loved every bit of it.
Of all her discomforts, it was her pussy that was hardest to ignore. It ached deliciously. Even now, she still felt whispers of his presence there, of his fullness, and each time the sensation passed, it would leave a yearning throb in its wake that almost made her want to ignore the soreness and take Rekosh again.
The flower brushed lightly over the bite mark on her shoulder. Without seeing him, Ahmya knew Rekosh was staring at it. There had been such a covetous gleam in his eyes when he’d cleansed the wound and dressed it with sticky silk.
Ahmya grinned. “Are you preening again?”
The flower stilled. “Preening? I do not know that word.”
She opened her eyes and turned her head, resting it back upon her arms as she looked at him.
He reclined on his side with his right elbows atop the blanket and his head propped in his upper hand. His lower left arm was draped over his abdomen, while the upper was extended, holding the flower. He had his right legs curled beneath his hindquarters, with the left ones bent, their tips resting near her legs. His long hair, still damp after bathing, hung loose over his shoulders, its red and white strands especially vibrant in the sunlight. She loved it like this. Loved it when she could run her fingers through his tresses, unhindered by a braid.
Scars were visible on his dark hide—especially the most recent of them, which he’d received while defending her from the kuzahks.
“It means that you’re pleased with yourself,” she said.
Rekosh trilled, lifting his mandibles. “Then yes. I am preening, kir’ani vi’keishi . I have finally claimed my pretty mate. ”
Ahmya chuckled. “You did. You really, really did.”
“You are preening also.” Rekosh resumed caressing her skin with the silkblossom.
“Mmm… I think a better word would be content.” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, releasing it in a happy sigh. “I wish we could stay here, just the two of us, for a little while longer.”
He made a thoughtful hum as the petals glided up along her spine. “There is good water, and signs of nearby beasts to hunt. We need only shelter. Kaldarak will wait while this place keeps us.”
Ahmya opened her eyes and lifted her head. Wet strands of her hair slid over the back of her shoulder, allowing cool drops of water to run along her arm. “We can stay?”
“A small time, my nyleea . So my leg may heal a little more, so you may rest. And…because I wish to add to the memories we have made here.”
Happiness burst through her. She rose onto her hands and knees and crawled to Rekosh. Throwing her arms around his neck, she leaned into him and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
Rekosh trilled and wrapped an arm around her, rolling onto his back and dragging Ahmya atop him. She laughed as she straddled his abdomen and propped her forearms on his chest, her hair falling to one side. His crimson eyes shone as he looked up at her. She peppered more kisses over his face.
He chittered and cupped a hand over her ass as he banded another arm around her, holding her securely against him.
Her smile faded. “Won’t everyone be worried though? They’re probably looking for us.”
“Yes. But for many eightdays, I have wanted only to see you.” His big hands moved with their usual grace and gentleness as he caught her dangling hair, tucked it behind her ear, and slid the stem of the flower into it. Then he cradled her cheek with his palm. “I would have you to myself a small time longer, my flower.”
Warmth flooded her chest, and her heart fluttered. She traced her fingers over his masklike face, so inhuman, so different, so beloved, and smiled once more. “I would have you to myself too.”
Ahmya tilted her head as her gaze followed the path of her fingertips around his eyes. Expressive and brilliant, their glow had frightened her all those months ago when they’d first met, but now they were a beacon in the dark that she sought for comfort and safety. They were the eyes of her mate.
Her husband.
Rekosh was silent as he watched her, mandibles relaxed, his own fingers stroking her skin in soothing circles.
In her head, she counted his eyes as her fingertips passed them. Four on each side, eight in total. Eight, a number sacred to the vrix. It was used when they cursed, when they prayed, when they invoked their gods. Their weeks were eight days, and whenever they divided anything into groups, be it vrix or objects, they were inclined to do so into groups of eight.
Ketahn had thought it a sign from the gods when he’d discovered Ivy, the eighth of the survivors aboard the Somnium , and the vrix had considered it fortuitous that there’d been eight humans. On top of Ahnset’s crushing guilt for Ella’s death, the female vrix had believed she’d cursed them all by sundering that sacred number—without Ella, there were only seven humans left.
But they’d overcome the challenges set in their path. They had found a home in Kaldarak. And Ahmya didn’t believe they’d made it so far because the vrix fixation on eight was just superstition. No…she believed that there’d been eight humans all along, throughout their harrowing journey, because they’d brought Ella along in their hearts .
“Many Japanese people believe the number eight is lucky,” Ahmya said. “It is because of the number’s shape.”
“Its shape?” His eyes narrowed briefly as though in thought.
“It’s different from the numbers we’ve shown you. This is the symbol in kanji .” Cradling Rekosh’s face, she used her thumbs to draw two lines between his eyes, starting close together and sweeping down and outward. “ Hachi . Eight. It is lucky because the symbol spreads outward like a fan, opening wide at the bottom, which represents growth and prosperity.”
Rekosh moved his lower hands to her hips. With his thumbs resting on either side of her spine, he made the symbol upon her back, slowly trailing his thumbs down and outward to her ass in a way that sent a thrill through her. “ Hachi .”
Ahmya chuckled and nodded.
A purr rumbled in his chest, and Ahmya’s breath hitched as the sound stimulated her nipples where her breasts pressed against his hide.
“Teach me more,” he said.
Ahmya grinned, hooked her thumbs together, and spread her fingers, wiggling them. “ Kumo .”
He chittered, and an amused light filled his eyes. “I know that shape. Kumo is the same as spider?”
“Yes, but it also means cloud.”
Rekosh let out a low groan. “So all humans use words that mean many things.”
Ahmya sighed dramatically and settled her hands upon his shoulders. “We are such confusing creatures.”
With a trill, Rekosh caught the back of her neck and lifted his head. “I am happy to be confused, because you are mine.”
Once more, he’d set her heart aflutter.
When she’d boarded the Somnium to begin a new life on Xolea, Ahmya had expected to enter an impersonal relationship and become a breeder. She’d had no illusions of having a love match with her partner, but she’d at least hoped for mutual respect. Maybe even friendship.
Instead, she’d crashed here. Upon first awakening, this planet had been terrifying, and the situation had felt hopeless. She didn’t know what sort of life her and the others would make—if they’d even survive at all.
But there had been Rekosh. He had been her protector, her friend. He’d given her patience, kindness, wisdom, and affection. He’d given her joy.
He’d given her love.
She didn’t need to hear those words from him to see it. To feel it. It was in everything he did.
Rekosh made her heart pound whenever he was near, made her body shiver with every touch, made her belly warm with every look.
And Ahmya had felt the overwhelming emotion long before she’d realized it.
Smiling, she tipped her forehead against his headcrest, keeping her eyes locked with his. “Here are some words that aren’t confusing. Anata wa watashi no taisetsu na hito .”
“ Anata wa …” he echoed.
Ahmya helped him through the words, until he was able to say the full phrase.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
“It means”—she brushed her lips across his mouth—“you are my taisetsu na hito . The person I cherish the most, in this world or any other.”
His hands flexed upon her, and his mouth parted, breath mingling with hers. Rekosh slid his fingers into her hair, gaze softening. “Of all the human words I have learned, kir’ani vi’keishi , none make my heartsthread sing like these. Anata wa watashi no taisetsu na hito .”