Texon looks down at me. And even now, with every instinct in his body screaming at him to drag me into the jungle and finish what the fever started, he pauses. He looks at me. And there is a question in his eyes.
Even now, even like this, he’s asking.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.”
He scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing. The last thing I hear as he turns for the jungle is Scar’s voice, dry as desert sand. “Well. That happened.”
And then Rook, calm, “I’ll help secure the prisoner.”
And Cannibal, genuinely bewildered, “Was anyone going to tell me Texon and Ines were compatible now?”
“Later,” Chief snaps again.
Texon is already running.
The jungle swallows us.
And the claiming begins.
