Chapter Twenty-Three #2
The encouragement wasn’t enough to ease my breathing or the pain wrapped around my middle, but it got me to place my foot in front of the other.
I shuffled down the tunnel, the dark tube seeming to go on forever.
It expanded, growing wider and taller as we moved along, but after the first section there were no other tunnels branching off it.
I hung my head, eyes focused on my feet, until the woman at my side gave me a nudge.
“Look. We’re here.”
The arch ahead of us was massive, made of black stone with symbols carved and painted around it. It reminded me of something from a movie, when a woman was being sacrificed, and my racing heart stumbled at the thought.
I knew I was likely to survive whatever happened on the other side, but would I come out the same? I still wasn’t sure I believed in the bond the Morraki put so much weight on.
What if it didn’t work?
Past the entryway, the floor dropped past tiers I assumed were for the audience. I’d hoped there might be limited space, and therefore allow fewer Morraki to watch, but the rows stretched away into darkness, the cavern massive enough to hold every Morraki I’d seen if they squeezed close.
More stairs led down to a central circle, and I sighed as I started at them. My belly ached, my thighs trembled, and I half expected myself to trip and roll down to the floor below.
And I wasn’t sure it could make me ache any more than I already did.
I didn’t pay attention to anything else as I descended, focused on each step until there were no more. Finally raising my head, I took in black dais in the center of a ring of crimson tiles, gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling to obscure most of the bed atop it from view.
The sight made my belly flutter, yearning and aversion twisting inside me.
Instincts pulled me forward, urged me to go to that space that beckoned, but part of me was still far too aware that this moment had monumental importance.
If I ruined it, if I did something wrong, it affected not just me.
It could cause problems with the alliance.
My gaze shifted, searching for anything to delay what I was supposed to do next, but the cavern was empty other than the Karzhari who had accompanied me.
Or I thought so, until I locked onto flaring yellow markings and golden eyes, and my breath caught in my throat.
Rhydek stood in the space between the bottom tier and the ring of red tiles, almost directly across from me.
He was topless, his kethra allowing me to see him when his dark skin would have hidden him otherwise.
He was motionless except for his tail, the limb lashing back and forth as if warning others to give him a wide berth.
We remained frozen, staring, until one of the Karzhari stepped in front of me and blocked my view. I didn’t miss the growl that echoed inside the cavern, but I focused on the Morraki in front of me.
“It is time to build your nessha. You may choose your materials.”
Brows creased, I didn’t understand what she meant until she stepped aside and directed my gaze to several piles of bedding placed close to the dais.
Something pulled me forward, moving my feet without my permission. I crossed the red ring, closing the distance between me and the place I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.
I should have pressed Rhydek harder, so this wasn’t the first time. Perhaps that would have eased at least part of my fears.
Breathing as if I were still climbing the stairs from the River Caverns, I stopped in front of the piles, unsure what I was supposed to do.
Each stack was similar, with a variety of heavy blankets, thin sheets, and all different kinds of pillows and cushions.
They contained every color I had seen on Morrakan, which tended to be earthy, dusky tones, although there were a few jewel-bright colors.
I trembled as I stared down at them, resisting the urge to touch.
“What if I choose wrong?”
I didn’t realize I asked the question out loud until one of the women surrounding me responded.
“If it feels right, it’s not wrong. Follow instinct. Shaevrin will guide you.”
Lifting my head, I met eyes set in a weathered face that seemed to hold worlds of wisdom. Blinking back the threat of tears, I whispered my true fear.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if there’s nothing between us?”
I caught some of the other Karzhari glancing at each other from the corner of my eye, but I kept my focus on the one who had spoken. The one who looked like she might hold the answers.
“When an alpha claims an omega with Shaevrin and the Morrak as witness, there is no question that they are bonded. It is not an instant thing, it takes time to strengthen, but there will be an undeniable tether between you. It will be stronger if you bite him and accept his essence into you as well, but it is not required. You cannot fail.”
The way she emphasized the last part made me think that even if I couldn’t mess things up, it was still possible for something to go wrong.
I turned my head and searched for Rhydek. He was closer than he had been, pacing at the edge of the red tiles like one of the varkuun, eyes locked on me. Three shadows hovered behind him, but their focus was on him.
“What if he doesn’t claim me?”
I couldn’t turn back to the Karzhari, mesmerized by the sight of Rhydek prowling so close. I thought I caught the scent of leather and pine amidst the softer scents around me, and my mouth watered.
“It is unlikely he will be able to resist the urge. Your presence calls him, and instincts will drive him to defend and then claim you. If he fails, then he is not worthy of a korravai.”
I winced at her words. I didn’t like the idea of Rhydek not having a choice, even if we’d both known it would come to this. It was hard enough for me to think, it had to be harder for someone born with the instincts.
I also didn’t like the idea that he could fail.
“Come omega, you cannot delay any longer.”
The other Karzhari who spoke held out a blanket, rubbing the edge against my arm. Distracted by the soft, buttery fabric, I lifted my hand to touch it, then took it from her.
“There’s more.”
I tried to hold onto my thoughts, to the worries that still lurked, but they knew what they were doing. The lure of pretty blankets and soft fabric oiled my concerns until I couldn’t hang onto them any longer and they slipped away.
I dug through the bedding, keeping some, rejecting others. Once my arms were full and I couldn’t possibly hold any more, I turned to the curtains.
To the mattress within, where I was meant to build a nest.
There wasn’t enough focus left to worry. There was just the blankets in my arms, the circular dais, and the dull throb of need between my thighs.