“Ah.” Well, at least she isn’t offering to rub crystals or pack mud on me or something barbarian-like. “It’s all right, really.”
“I can re-wrap it for now,” she says, reaching into her basket. “Once you have taken on a khui, then I can heal it for you.”
I say nothing. I haven’t exactly decided that I want a planetary parasite, though the odds certainly aren’t looking in my favor at the moment. “Can I ask something?”
“Of course.” Her big, glowing eyes look up at me.
“Do you remember getting your khui?” Is that why all these people are so blasé about having a tapeworm?
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Our children are born helpless, with no khui. They are vulnerable until they have passed four days of age. Then, we hunt the great sa-kohtsk and transfer a khui to the child.”
“Why wait four days?”
“The child must be strong enough to accept the khui,” she says. “Otherwise it is death for both child and khui.” Her hands are gentle as she takes bone splints from her basket and works them into my leather wrappings, supporting my wrist.
“Does it hurt?”
She shrugs her graceful shoulders. “I do not know. I was very young when I accepted mine. It is very rare that a khui dies and a new one must be found for a sa-khui. It has not happened in my lifetime.”
This isn’t doing much to help my worry at the thought of taking in a freaking symbiont into my body. “Do you feel it moving? Do you know it’s there? Does it like . . . talk to you?”
“Talk?” Her eyes widen, and she laughs until she sees how very serious my face is. Then her laughter dies. “No, of course not. It does not speak. It is like having a heart or a lung or a stomach. You have a khui.” Again she shrugs her shoulders. “Some go their entire lives without feeling resonance. That is the only time the khui awakens. Then, it makes its presence known fiercely.”
“With the purring.”
“Prr—？”
“The sound,” I correct, then try to imitate it in my throat. “It makes you purr near your mate, right?”
“It is more than just that,” she says, tying down the last of the bindings around my wrist. Her hand goes to her breast. “One feels an intense surge of urgency when the khui comes to life. It is like . . . a rush of spirit.” It’s clear she’s struggling to describe it.
“Like adrenaline?” I guess, then add, “Like running down a hill really fast? Or during a hunt?”
She nods slowly. “More than that. It is . . . possessiveness, too. Your mate is yours, and those who wait to claim their mate find the feeling intensifies over time. It is difficult to describe. It is more than feeling. It is knowing.”
This worries me a little. I imagine Vektal and what he must be going through when he resonates with me. He hasn’t seemed all jacked up, though. Possessive, yes. But content. Maybe it’s different for different people.
“It is part of our lives,” she says gently. “The khui chooses the mate, and the khui is never wrong. It brings greater pleasure than any can imagine when one resonates against one’s mate.”
“And were you happy with the mate it chose for you?”
Her smile curves sweetly. “My Kashrem? No, at first I was quite angry. The khui does not always pick who we think we want in our furs. Kashrem is a tanner, not a hunter. I was young and drawn to one hunter in particular who I shared furs with.” Her long lashes flutter, and she turns to her basket and pulls out clothing. “I brought you these. Vektal says you are frequently cold, so I hope these shall help keep you warm.”
I’m sensing a conversation change. “Who did you share furs with before you, er, resonated?” I ask, wondering if it’s taboo to bring it up.
But her expression is guileless as she looks up at me. “Why, Vektal of course.”
I’m stunned at the stab of jealousy that shoots through me. This is my alien’s lover? My alien who lived a life of bachelorhood before resonating for me? I picture the scenario: Maylak and Vektal rolling around in bed. Him licking her like he does me. Then her getting up and running to another man just because she resonated for him.
Then my jealousy dies away, and I’m filled with sympathy for my Vektal. How that must have disappointed him. To have a lover when there were so few women must have seemed like a gift. Then to have her taken away—it must have been a very dark time for him. Maybe that’s why he’s so stinking happy to have me. I feel a surge of affection for the big guy.