Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
By the light of day, it all seemed so obvious. The signs were everywhere. This had been a settlement—a fairly large one, by all appearances. Much of what Ahmya and Rekosh had mistaken for rock formations or irregularities in the ground were ancient stone walls, caked with dirt and strangled by vines. Despite the trees and cloying vegetation, despite large sections of walls having collapsed or been swallowed by time and the elements, it was easy to visualize the foundations of the structures that once stood here.
It was likely because Ahmya knew what she was looking for now. Her eyes had been opened to the nature of this place, and now she could not unsee it—not that she wanted to. This was fascinating. The vrix were a diverse people, and their history was richer than even Rekosh, with so many stories stashed in his brain, could ever have guessed.
His interest was as piqued as hers as their exploration uncovered more scattered carvings and patches of weblike vrix writing, most of which were too worn for him to decipher. This place represented a part of his culture, his heritage, he’d never known about, and discovering it alongside him made Ahmya’s heart swell.
She knew all too well the feeling of being disconnected from one’s heritage. Knew all too well the self-doubt that could arise from it, knew the contradictory pull between past, present, and future. Growing up in the United States had left her feeling like an outsider when she’d visited Japan, her parents’ homeland. There’d been so much she hadn’t known about.
Her mother had taught her as much as she could about their culture, their history, but she’d died while Ahmya was young. And though Ahmya’s father had been born in Japan, he’d moved to the States as a boy and spent most of his life there.
Not that he’d been much of a talker, anyway.
Now, she would never have a chance to speak to him again, would never visit Japan again, would never learn more about her heritage.
It would’ve been the same if you’d made it to Xolea. This is the choice you made.
Yet as much as it saddened her, Ahmya didn’t regret that choice. Every step she’d taken had brought her here. It had brought her to Rekosh.
They continued their exploration farther into the scattered ruins, and when they discovered a set of broad, crumbling steps, Ahmya ascended them, her spear tapping the stone as she used it as a walking stick.
Running her fingers along the moss-covered stone wall that ran along one side, she caught hints of faded carvings beneath. “I wish you were able to see this place as it once was. Even as ruins, it’s beautiful.”
“To see it with you now is enough,” Rekosh replied, walking beside with his spear in hand.
“Do you think if we brought the thornskulls here, it could be restored? ”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. But why? We have our home in Kaldarak.”
“I know, but”—Ahmya shrugged as she continued up the steps—“shadowstalkers and thornskulls have reunited. Maybe it could happen with the other vrix again. And you could have a place where you all come together as one like they did here.”
“We will tell the others about this place, and they will do as they wish. But there is only one I want to come together with, and she is no vrix.”
Laughing, she glanced at him to find his mandibles raised in a smile. “I wouldn’t mind coming together again.”
He brushed a foreleg against her backside with a purr. “My nyleea hungers.”
Though Ahmya blushed at the open flirting, she couldn’t help but respond. “And I would say my luveen is quite thirsty.”
Rekosh chittered low. “For you, always.”
Desire sparked in her core as she recalled just how thirsty he’d been that morning and the feel of his tongue thrusting deep, deep, deep inside her pussy. Walking only seemed to exacerbate the sudden swelling of her clit, and made her aware of how swiftly Rekosh could make her wet.
Jeez, Ahmya. No longer a virgin and now sex is all you can think about?
I can’t help it! It just…feels so good .
Rekosh made it feel so good.
He was always so protective of her, always so tender and caring. But she loved that he hadn’t treated her like she was made of glass when they had sex. Loved how he’d let instinct take control, loved how he’d fucked her.
Fortunately, before she could dwell on those thoughts any longer, they reached the top of the steps, and Rekosh trilled. The air rushed from Ahmya’s lungs at the sight before her.
They’d come to a pond, not much larger than an Olympic swimming pool, backed by a cliffside fraught with roots and vines. Several stone columns stood at the edges of the pond, most of them at least partially collapsed, their details worn beyond recognition. In a large alcove carved into the cliff directly ahead stood a towering piece of stonework.
Like everything else, it was damaged, worn, and covered in moss. But the shape it suggested was clear—a vrix. A female vrix.
She was kneeling, with her forelegs bent on the ground and three broken arms raised. The fourth arm, the only one that was complete, was outstretched over the pond, hand turned and closed in a fist.
The natural break in the jungle canopy created by this rise allowed the sunlight to fall freely upon the pond, bathing it in a warm golden glow that made the water shimmer. Bright suncrest flowers dotted the cliffside, their petals open to the sunshine, but they paled in comparison to the most unique feature of all—the flowers growing from the water.
Bright yellow blossoms with pointed petals stood on thin stalks just above the pond’s surface. The tallest of them were less than a foot high, while others were so low their bottom petals were touching the water. Big, spiky, fanlike leaves also grew from the stalks, reminiscent of palm leaves.
They were everywhere, almost entirely covering the pond, their petals so bright they nearly seemed to glow with their own light.
As Ahmya’s gaze ran over the blossoms, she was filled with a sense of nostalgia. These flowers reminded her so much of lotuses.
Excitement rushed through her. Ahmya took several steps forward before she abruptly stopped.
No, she’d been down this road before, and she wasn’t in any hurry to repeat being attacked by a blood thirsty, carnivorous plant.
She looked at Rekosh. “Is it safe? ”
“The flowers, yes,” he replied, striding past her to the water’s edge. He extended his spear, disturbing the water’s surface with the butt end. Gentle ripples spread outward. Some of the plants swayed along with the tiny waves he’d created.
Rekosh stared at the pond for a time, and Ahmya moved up beside him. The water had a slight green tint, but it was relatively clear, allowing her to see the dark shapes of tiny, fishlike creatures flitting around amidst the roots and debris at the bottom.
“Looks safe,” he said, withdrawing the spear, “but stay close, kir’ani vi’keishi .”
She peered up at him. His body was tense, and she saw the wariness in his narrowed eyes as they swept over the pond and their surroundings. There was no question where his thoughts lay. He remembered when she’d been attacked by the firevine, and he still blamed himself for failing to protect her.
Ahmya settled a hand upon one of his arms. “It’s okay.”
Grunting, he turned his face toward Ahmya, his eyes holding hers until the tension bled from him. He stroked his foreleg along her calf above her boot. “I know.”
Nearly vibrating with giddiness, she lowered herself to her knees at the pond’s edge and laid down her spear. Bending forward with one hand planted firmly on the ground, Ahmya reached out and cupped one of the lush yellow flowers, drawing it closer. As she did so, she realized the petals were not as pure a yellow as they’d appeared from a distance, but were painted with splotches of bright red on their tops. That red filled the flowers’ centers.
“What are they?” she asked.
“ Aja’ani’nedahl .” Rekosh knelt beside her and brushed the back of a finger across one of the red-marked petals. “Mother’s blood.”
“Mother’s blood?” She chuckled. “I guess the red spots on the petals do look like drops of blood. ”
“These flowers are very rare, but where they grow, they grow thick. Pools like this are often made into sacred places.” He straightened and gestured across the water to the statue. “It is said that long ago, a terrible sickness came to the vrix. Many died, and all suffered. The Broodmother looked upon her broodlings and was flooded with sadness to see such pain. So, she cut her hand open and let her blood fall as rain. It landed upon these flowers and gave them some of her power.
“Because they are marked by her blood, they are known to heal. They can ease sickness and pain and stop wounds from bleeding. Like mender root, they are rare, but they are sacred too. Vrix dare not take too much for fear that the Broodmother’s sacrifice will be wasted.”
He hummed and tilted his head. “I am glad Zurvashi did not find this place. She would have destroyed it.”
Ahmya frowned as she sat back on her heels and gazed out over the pond. She’d heard the stories of Zurvashi’s greed for mender root, wanting it not for its healing properties, but because it made her favorite shade of purple dye. How she’d gone to war against the thornskulls because of it, resulting in so many deaths merely for her vanity. But Ahmya had heard nothing of aja’ani’nedahl.
“Why would she have destroyed this place?” she asked.
“Because it is not for her. It does not praise her. And she knew only how to take from others, because she was strong enough to do so.”
She looked at the worn, broken statue of the Broodmother. Time and nature had taken its toll on it, but it would remain standing for many years to come. She smiled as her gaze fell upon the flowered-filled pond. “I’m glad she didn’t find this place too. It’s beautiful.”
“It brings you joy, Ahmya. To me, that is true beauty.”
Ahmya looked up at Rekosh to find him gazing at her tenderly. Warmth blossomed within her, sparking a familiar fluttering in her belly.
She caught hold of his long braid and gave it a gentle tug until he bent toward her. Leaning close, she pressed her lips to his hard mouth. “You bring me the most joy.”
With a soft trill, he cupped the back of her neck and gently leaned his headcrest against her forehead. “Ah, my nyleea , my heartsthread…”
Her heart quickened at this closeness. She loved it when he spoke such endearments, loved how he instilled those simple words with such love and meaning.
Smiling wide, Ahmya twirled his braid around her finger. “Soooo… Can I take some of the Mother’s blood?”
He pulled away with a chitter, eyes narrowed with mirth. “I knew you would ask.”
Her lips stretched into a wide grin. “So that’s a yes? It’s not forbidden?”
“Not forbidden. But”—he held up a hand with his forefinger and thumb barely separated—“only a little.”
“Yes! I know Diego would love some too. Do you think we could take a couple roots with us to plant in Kaldarak? The thornskulls don’t have a place like this as far as I know, but I’m sure they could build something in tribute to the Broodmother.”
His mandibles rose. “I think it is a gift they would appreciate.”
“Thank you!” Ahmya pecked another kiss on his mouth and rose to her feet. As she began taking off her boots, she asked, “Could I borrow your knife?”
Removing his bag, he set it on the ground and opened it. In short order, he produced the metal, human-made knife, which he presented to her grip-first.
Rather than take it right away, Ahmya slipped the braided straps off her shoulders and pushed her dress down her body, letting it pool around her feet once it slid past her hips.
“Ahmya,” Rekosh rasped.
She looked up to find his gaze fixed on her naked body. Desire whispered through her in response to the blatant hunger in his eyes, and her nipples hardened.
How far she’d come in only a few short days. She would never have undressed so casually in front of others, but with Rekosh? She loved the way he looked at her. Loved the way he responded to her.
Loved the way her own body responded to him.
But right now, she had a task, and she couldn’t let herself get distracted. At least…not yet.
Chuckling, Ahmya placed a finger beneath Rekosh’s jaw and pushed his mouth closed. “You can look, but you can’t touch.”
After teasingly trailing that finger down his chest, she took the knife he offered and stepped away to sit at the pond’s edge. The water was cool against her heated skin as she lowered her legs into it, making her break out in goosebumps.
Ahmya peeked at her mate over her shoulder with a smile. “Are you going to join me?”
Rekosh growled, and her eyes dipped to see his claspers pressed tight against his slit. She covered her mouth to muffle her giggle.
“Wicked, female. You seek to unravel me.” He strode to the pond and stepped in. Within a couple steps, the water was up to his pelvis, covering his claspers and slit. He turned and beckoned her with a curl of his fingers. “Come.”
Oh, she would later. She was sure of it.
Ahmya slipped into the water, letting out a slow, shuddering breath at the chill. With her feet on the bottom, the surface came up to her chest, lapping at her nipples. She grasped the stem of the nearest yellow blossom and cut it with the knife.
As she cupped the flower in her hand, staring down at it, she was once more struck by a wave of nostalgia. “There is a flower similar to this on Earth.”
“Tell me.” Rekosh said.
“It’s called a lotus. Hasu , in Japanese.” Ahmya brushed her fingers over the petals. “It grows in muddy water, but its petals are the purest pink or white. It symbolizes overcoming adversity and reaching enlightenment. They only bloom for a few days.”
She set the blossom on the grassy bank and turned back to Rekosh with a smile. “Every summer when I was little, we visited my grandparents in Japan. My grandmother would take me, my brother, and my mom out to harvest lotuses. We’d gather the roots and the seed pods, which are what remain after the petals fall off.”
Ahmya cut off another blossom and placed it next to the first. “Often, my brother and I would sneak off and break open a pod to munch on the seeds.” She chuckled as she walked farther out into the pond, pushing aside the fan-like leaves. “My grandmother would scold us for not working, but Hirohito would always take the blame.”
Rekosh moved alongside her, keeping the spear before him. He chittered. “Ketahn would try to do the same when we were broodlings, but usually I could talk away our trouble when we were caught doing something we should not have done.”
She chuckled. “I can believe that. Seeing the way all of you interact, I would guess that you caused most of the trouble?”
“I do not know why you would think that, Ahmya,” he said, mandibles ticking up into a wry smile as he cast her a sidelong glance.
She didn’t miss the hint of mischief in his eyes.
Ahmya laughed and nudged his arm with her elbow. “So you were the troublemaker!”
“I did not make trouble. I made excitement and fun.” He tapped his chest. “Moonfall Tunnel would have been boring without me.”
She cut another flower and held it out to Rekosh. “No wonder Urkot is the voice of reason. He’s just trying to protect everyone from your fun .”
Rekosh took the flower in one of his free hands. “Urkot is not free of blame. None of us are.” He cocked his head, regarding the flower. “Maybe Telok is. He was very quiet as a broodling. Almost…timid for a time, though he always fought for us fiercely.”
“He’s still quiet, and still fierce.”
“Very much.”
“Why does he keep so much distance from everyone?”
“Telok…carries deep pain in his hearts that weighs upon him, heavier than any stone. I think he believes he must watch, must protect, so he does not have to face that pain again. But that can be a lonely duty.”
Sorrow filled Ahmya’s heart. She’d seen the lengths to which Telok had gone to protect them all. Maybe he wasn’t outwardly friendly most of the time, but he’d accepted Ahmya and the other humans into his tribe. Beneath Telok’s rough exterior was a vrix who cared deeply about his family, who would readily put himself in harm’s way to keep them safe, who could laugh and find joy amongst his tribemates…but he let his guard down so rarely.
She clipped another flower, which she handed to Rekosh. “I hope he can find some peace now that we’re all settling down in Kaldarak. That he lets himself relax and realizes he doesn’t have to do all that alone. That he’s never been alone.”
“I think he knows in his hearts, but it will take time for him to find that peace.” He twirled the flower by its stem. “You said you would gather the roots and seeds from lotuses. What did you use them for?”
“Food. We’d take home what we’d harvested and make a dish called renkon no kinpira with the lotus roots.” Ahmya smiled at him, though a bit sadly. “The last time that happened was when I was eight, before my mom died.”
Rekosh made a low, unhappy buzzing sound as he turned his body toward her. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek before hooking her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there, caressing the round shell. “We will make many memories together, kir’ani vi’keishi . I will harvest plants with you, cook with you, tend flowers with you. I will teach you to weave and sew if you would learn it. Anything you would do, I would do alongside you.”
Ahmya’s chest constricted with a powerful wave of emotion that made her eyes sting with tears. Though her father and brother had been alive before she’d left Earth, home had never felt the same after she lost her mother. It had grown cold. And Ahmya had been alone.
Rekosh was offering all the companionship and intimacy she could ever have wished for. Was offering to share not just the moments of passion and heat, but the quiet moments. The mundane moments. And to cherish them all equally, recognizing how valuable each and every one of them were.
She caught his hand and pressed her cheek into his palm, nuzzling it while keeping her gaze locked with his. “I would do it all alongside you too, Rekosh. We will make a home together.”
With a soft trill, he leaned down and brushed his mouth atop her hair before drawing in a deep breath. One of his forelegs curled around her legs beneath the water.
After he withdrew, he offered to retrieve some roots for her. She’d been fully prepared to plunge under the surface and feel around for them, but Rekosh didn’t even need to hunch down—he used his forelegs to dig up a few of the roots and pass them deftly to his waiting hands.
Once they’d deposited the flowers and roots on the bank, Rekosh lifted Ahmya out of the pond before climbing out himself. Water streamed down her body, and she dipped her feet back in to rinse away the mud sticking to her toes.
“I can’t wait to bring these back to Kaldarak and plant them,” she said as she wrung out the ends of her hair.
Calloused hands settled on her shoulders, and Ahmya smiled, leaning back against the heat of Rekosh’s hard body behind her.
Rekosh purred, the low rumble moving through her, teasing her skin, and stimulating her nipples as he smoothed his palms down her arms and lowered his mouth to her ear. “And I cannot wait to bury my stem deep in my little flower.”
Ahmya’s breath hitched.
His hands closed around her wrists, their hold firm, and he abruptly spun her to face him. He drew her arms up. His lower hands worked swiftly, lashing a silk strand around her wrists with practiced ease, knotting the rope tight enough to keep her from escaping, but not enough to cut off circulation.
Desire unfurled in her core as he wound the silk around her forearms. “What are you doing?”
His crimson eyes bore into her. “Do not think I have forgotten how you teased me, my wicked female.”
“I haven’t,” she said with a shaky exhalation.
The rope continued down, around her chest and shoulders. “Then you know what I am doing.”
She was aware of every brush of his fingers on her skin, and as she stood there, naked with her arms raised and back arched, her pussy swelled with arousal.
When his fingers knotted the silk around her breasts, he pinched one of her taut nipples, producing a sharp gasp from her.
“Rekosh!”
He kicked her feet farther apart, and then those hands were winding the rope around her waist and between her thighs. Ahmya’s pussy clenched, and a ragged cry tore from her when he looped the silk between the folds of her sex, placing a knot right over her clit. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sensation. Every subtle shift of her body caused that knot to rub against her, resulting in the most exquisite torture.
An unbidden moan slipped past her lips as she undulated against the rope. Pleasure washed through her.
“Ah, female,” Rekosh chittered. He caught her jaw, coaxing her to open her eyes and look at him. “Now it is my turn.”
An anticipatory shiver stole through her as he tossed a coil of silk rope high overhead. He didn’t look away from her as he pulled down on the other end, drawing her up off her feet, suspending her high enough that she was looking down at him. The rope dug rapturously into her clit.
“Oh God,” she rasped, toes curling.
He grasped her legs and draped them over his shoulders. His claws pressed into the sensitive flesh of her ass and thighs as he spread her wide, baring her pussy.
Rekosh drew in a deep breath and released it in a growl. “How your body craves me.”
“Rekosh…” Ahmya’s breath was quick and shallow as she held his bright, crimson gaze.
He brushed his rough, hard mouth along her inner thigh. “No more words.”
Then he thrust his long, thick tongue deep inside her, and Ahmya was lost to bliss.