He grins, the look boyish. “I wanted to see if we could catch one of the great fish in the salt lake.”
Salt lake? Are we near a sea? I have so many questions.
“This is my cave . . . and your home now, too, Georgie.” After a moment, he adds, “If you accept me as mate.” He sounds uncertain, unhappy, and I feel a twinge of sadness that my indecision is hurting him.
The pile of furs looks inviting, though, and I can’t help but move toward it. I sit on the edge and moan with pleasure as I sink backward. This is by far the nicest, snuggliest bed I’ve had since I got here. “I’m looking forward to curling up in this,” I tell him.
His eyes light up, and I hear the thrum in his chest start.
Oh. He’s taking that as a come on. I should correct him. Instead, I luxuriate in the furs a bit longer, thinking of his sweet words earlier about how beautiful and strong I am. I arch my back so my breasts jut out. His attention goes there, and I see the look in his strange, glowing eyes grow heated.
“Shall I enter?” says a female voice.
Vektal rubs a hand over his face. “Yes. Come, Maylak.” He moves to my side and presses a kiss to my hair. “I shall go and talk with my hunters. Maylak will take care of you.”
I want to pout, but my wrist hurts, and if Maylak’s got food, she’s my new favorite person. “All right. Don’t be too long?”
“Never,” he says fervently, and his fingers trace my jaw. “If you are asleep, I shall wake you up by mating your mouth.”
A scorching blush colors my cheeks. “It’s called a kiss, Vektal.” Saying it like that makes it utterly filthy. And I’m perverted enough to be completely aroused at the thought.
He simply gives me a roguish look, presses his mouth to mine, and then bounds out of his cave. I’m admiring my last glimpse of his tight ass in his leggings when Maylak steps through the entrance a moment later, parting the door hangings. She carries a large basket in her hands and smiles at me, flashing dainty fangs. “May I join you?”
I nod. I watch her as she glides into the room, all fluid steps, and note the difference between her and a male of Vektal’s tribe. Her horns are smaller and more delicate, though it seems horns are like noses for these people in that some are huge and some are just smaller and less twisty. It probably has more to do with heredity than testosterone. Her features are as strong and heavy as Vektal’s, but her eyes seem to be bigger and longer-lashed, and her mouth is full and pouty. Her breasts are small, and her entire body seems more wiry than soft, but she moves in an utterly sensuous way that makes me jealous. Her hair is long and gorgeous, rippling in a dark waterfall to her waist and tail.
She’s dressed curiously, too. Her leathers seem more intricate than Vektal’s, with interesting little designs worked into the soft hide that remind me of embroidery. The designs edge the artfully jagged hem of her neckline that crisscrosses over her broad shoulders and drapes loosely over her belly. It’s knotted high on one hip, revealing leggings covered with more of the woven embroidery dotted through the leather. Her feet are bare when she sits next to me, though, and I’m surprised. It’s warmer in the caves, granted, but it’s still chilly to me. But Vektal’s people seem to be wearing clothing as if it’s a summer’s day.
I’m rather envious of that. I’d like to be warm for a change.
In one fluid motion, Maylak sits in front of me, cross-legged. She sets her basket down on the cave floor next to the bed and places both of her hands, palms up, on her knees. “May I heal you?”
“Um . . . yes?” There’s no word in their language for ‘okay’。
She takes my bad hand gently in hers, pulls back the leathers, and then unwraps the bindings that Vektal put on it. My wrist is still bruised and swollen, and as the bandages are removed, it throbs with renewed pain. To my surprise, Maylak closes her eyes and cradles my wrist, as if waiting for something.
Er . . . okay. I wait, since it seems impolite to ask what the hell she’s doing.
After a long moment, she opens her eyes and frowns at me. “You have no khui. I thought perhaps Vektal was mistaken.”
“No,” I say with a faint smile. “He’s right. I don’t have a khui.” The word feels strange in my mouth.
She sets my wrist down gently. “Strange. I cannot do much for you, then. My khui is a special one.,” she says, touching her breast and then extending her hand outward. “It can call upon your khui and encourage it to work stronger.”