Page 115 of The Hunter

He halted and turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, mandibles twitching.

The anger that had been in her eyes was gone, leaving her looking…worn. “I can do it myself.”

“I will tend to my mate.”

“Please, Telok.” She clutched at the blanket covering her chest. “I just…need this time. Alone.”

Alone.

That word slammed into him with all the weight and force of a charging yatin, knocking the air from his chest and leaving him reeling.

Did she…regret mating with him? Had the kurghests so soiled their joining that she couldn’t bear to have Telok see her, to have him touch her?

No.

He would not accept that, even if she were to tell him it was true. He regretted nothing they’d shared today, and now that he’d claimed her, now that she was truly his, he would not let her go.

But this request… He could give her this. Could give her privacy.

“I will be near,” he said. His eyes lingered on her until he begrudgingly forced his legs into motion and stepped out.

Facing toward the doorway, he leaned his left shoulders against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. His hide itched all over, urging him to go back to her, but he just curled his claws into his biceps and gritted his fangs.

Clamoring voices carried to him from somewhere near the village center; the others must’ve arrived, and a crowd had undoubtedly gathered around them. But the only sounds that held his attention were from inside the shower.

He first heard the faintest rustling of fabric, followed by the heavy splat of the wet blanket falling onto the floor. Lacey’s footfalls were barely audible on the floor planks. Then came the rush of water, splashing and spraying, and the gasp of a human who had not been entirely prepared for the shock of cold.

Larkhets called excitedly in the higher branches, many of them leaping off to soar over the platforms in displays of brilliant color.

The water stopped, and Telok heard the soft slaps of Lacey’s feet on the wet floor as she shifted in place, heard the crunch and fizz of broken cleanleaf, heard her scrubbing herself and muttering under her breath about how much of this shit was coming out of her.

When she opened the waterflow again, it ran for a long while. In his mind’s eye, he pictured her standing beneath the spout with her head down, her red hair dark and plastered about her face, neck, and shoulders as the water washed over her and carried away the blood and dirt that had marred the day.

As it carried away his seed.

A pang pierced both his hearts at once. The scent he and Lacey had made together, the scent of their mating, would surely be gone now…and he mourned its loss. For the time being, it would exist only in his memory, teasing him, taunting him, tempting him.

The water stopped again, and Lacey released a heavy exhalation. He heard her hair flip back and slap her skin, heard her wet feet on the floor as she walked to the shelves, heard her unfolding a cloth and rubbing it over her body to dry herself. Then she walked toward the door, where she opened her bag and rummaged through its contents.

Though she was so close that he swore he could almost feel the heat of her body on the other side of the wall, Telok held himself in place, respecting her request.

How had they come so far as to finally join in a mating bond, to finally give in to their desires and instincts, only for him to find himself once again standing within reach of Lacey yet unable to touch her?

He stared at the wall, feeling the strain in the tether connecting their hearts.

More sounds of movement came from within—the whisper of fabric on skin as she dressed, the clack of spear shafts against the floor, the tiny creaking of rawhide strips being tied.

Then Lacey stepped out to stand in front of Telok.

She’d dressed in a sleeveless vest and shorts that stopped midthigh, the fabric of the former dampened by the loose hair hanging about her shoulders. Her skin was a touch paler than usual, and little shivers stole through her body, making her full lips quiver ever so slightly. Her pack was slung over one shoulder with her spear in the holder on the side.

She held up his spear and bag.

Telok accepted them before plucking Lacey’s pack off her shoulder. Her mouth opened as though to protest, but he silenced her by scooping her into his arms again and drawing her tight against his chest. Her skin was cool.

“Telok, I can walk,” she said, wriggling.

He slapped a hand against her ass. “Be still, kir’ani vi’jatai.”