Page 22 of The Hunter

She wandered farther into the room. A few small shelves along one wall held some clay jars and baskets, while a larger one had folded pieces of silk stacked atop it. Telok’s bed, a huge nest of fluffed silk and animal furs, lay in the corner.

The place was tidy and sparsely furnished. Practical. No personal items on display, no decorations. It was…

Lonely.

The doorway curtain fell back into place, deepening the gloom.

Her gaze settled on his worktable. Based on the tools and materials upon it, including the long, carved poles propped against it, she guessed he was in the process of crafting new spears.

She tightened her hands around the gift as a fresh wave of guilt washed through her.

“Do not touch,” he warned from behind her.

Lacey turned to face him. “Touch what?”

“Anything.”

“Oh,” she said, laughing nervously. “Got it. Don’t touch Telok’s things.”

He crossed both sets of arms over his chest. “Why did you come, Lacey?”

He doesn’t want me here.

She looked down at the floor and nibbled her bottom lip. More than ever, she felt like an intruder. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe she should’ve just left the gift outside his den for him to find after she was long gone. Maybe…

No. Telok deserved better.

Squaring her shoulders, Lacey approached him. “I came to tell you again that I’m immensely sorry for what I did. It was wrong of me. I was angry and hurt, but I should never have snuck into your home, taken your things, and damaged them.”

She stopped before him and looked up to meet his eyes. Hands still clutching the gift, she lifted it from her shoulder, turned it long ways, and held it out to him. “I also wanted to give you this.”

Tilting his head, he glanced down at her offering, and his mandibles twitched again. She couldn’t tell whether it was reluctance or uncertainty fueling his hesitance as he slowly unfolded his arms, reached for the gift, and took hold of it.

Telok lifted the gift off her palms. Before she could drop her arms, his eyes flared, and his lower hands darted out, catching both her wrists. Lacey gasped.

He brought her hands higher and lowered his head to study them, letting out a displeased grunt. “You are hurt.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “I’m…okay.”

He met her gaze and dipped his chin sharply down as if to ask if she was seeing the same thing he was.

Lacey gave her arms a tug. “Really, I’m fine. My hands are just a little raw from…working on your gift.”

Telok held her wrists and her gaze as something smoldered in his eyes. Her thumping heart tracked the passing seconds. His hands were solid and callused, but they were also restrained and warm, and his scent was everywhere, suffusing her every breath.

Finally, he emitted an unsatisfied buzz and released her. She took a step back, fighting the urge to brush her fingers over the heated skin he’d touched.

He turned his attention to the gift, which he passed to his lower hands so the upper pair could untie the strings she’d used to secure the cloth wrapping. After the strings fell away, he peeled aside the silk almost delicately, as though he feared damaging the object within.

Another sound escaped him, but it was much too soft for her to tell if it had been a hum or a trill.

As Telok examined the spear she’d made him, Lacey clasped her hands behind her back, squeezing them too tightly. The pain in her hands seemed to be the only thing grounding her. He let the silk fall away and tilted the weapon, bringing its head up and running his fingers along the edge.

Both his attention and his hand trailed down, past the silk cord she’d used to bind the obsidian to the shaft and down to the strip of leather she’d wrapped two handspans below the spearhead, from which a few trinkets dangled. She’d used a couple of feathers, a claw, and a strand of bone beads from the spears she’d broken and added something new. Something more…personal. It had been an impulse, and now that she was looking at it, she wasn’t sure if it’d been the right thing to do.

Why would he want something so intimate from her after what she’d done?

He took that new trinket between forefinger and thumb and lifted it, stroking it gently. It was a length of her hair, plaited into a thin, tight braid. And he remained like that, staring at it, running his thumb over it, utterly silent.