Page 42 of The Hunter

“He is hole for poop,” Telok grumbled.

Lacey laughed. “The word is asshole. And yes, he is.”

Despite everything, Telok thrilled in the sound of her laughter. It made his chest warm and fluttery. He longed to hear more of it.

One day, the Tangle will silence that laughter forever.

Telok gritted his teeth, and another growl resonated in his chest.

Lacey patted his abdomen. “There, there. At least while Cole sleeps, you won’t have to hear his shit.”

That warmth spread into his belly as his hearts squeezed. Though she’d not guessed the dark turn of his thoughts, her playful attempt at comforting him was endearing.

He reached a higher branch, where Ayali and Droztar were reclining, and stepped onto it. Lacey’s weight settled on his hindquarters, and she relaxed her hold on him, hesitating before her arms fell away. Some of the tension faded from Telok’s limbs, but his body could not ease while Lacey sat astride him. Even now, he fought the urge to reach back and pull her arms around him again.

He lowered himself and untied the silk strand, releasing one end to let it fall away.

Gripping his shoulder, Lacey leaned to one side and slid down, swinging her leg off his hindquarters as soon as her lead foot touched the branch. She withdrew her hand. “Thank you.”

Telok nodded.

She turned and stepped closer to the trunk, where the branch was at its widest, and where the thornskulls had placed Telok’s bag and bundle of spare spears.

Watching her, he stood up slowly. He knew he should’ve looked away, should’ve moved away, but his body had no interest in should. It knew only what it wanted. What he wanted.

Lacey slipped her bag off and dropped it next to his, propping it upright. Opening it, she dug inside until she withdrew a rolled up white blanket. It billowed in the breeze as she shook it out. Closing her bag, she sat down, stretched her legs out in front of her, and spread the blanket over herself. She lay down, rolled onto her side with her back to the trunk, and curled her arm beneath her head.

“Good night, everyone!” Lacey called.

“Night!” Cole yelled up.

A few of the thornskulls also replied, while Droztar grumbled.

Lacey chuckled as she drew the blanket up around her shoulder. Then her eyes met Telok’s, and her smile softened. “Good night, Telok.”

The threads winding around his heart constricted at the sight of that smile, at the sound of those words, spoken so gently, so warmly, just for him. He pressed a hand to his chest, fingers curling to dig his claws into his hide. If he could shred those threads, it would relieve this pressure, soothe this ache, spare him from this agony.

But he knew they could not be severed, not without unmaking him. They were tethered to Lacey…and to his soul. His heartsthreads.

Legs stiff, Telok stepped away from her. That tether drew tighter with each thread’s width of distance between them.

“Be easy, Scarhide,” Ayali said with a low chitter. “Rest. I will watch.”

She sat farthest from the trunk, with her huge spear laid across her bent forelegs. Droztar was already asleep nearby, sprawled belly-down with his legs splayed and his upper arms folded beneath his head.

Though sleep was the only thing that might’ve brought Telok peace, how could he sleep while his hearts and mind were so restless and tangled? Yet he knew a sleepless night would only make him a burden to the others tomorrow.

Telok touched a knuckle to his headcrest to show respect and appreciation to Ayali before lowering himself onto the branch. He lay on his side, shifting his arms and legs repeatedly before turning onto his belly and repeating the process. The bark was hard and rough, but he’d slept in far worse conditions during his time in the Tangle. This discomfort came from within.

Rolling onto his back with all six legs braced against the branch on either side of him, he stared skyward. Stars glimmered through tiny breaks in the leaves and branches overhead. The quiet chirping of insects and the rustling of leaves created a familiar night song, its serenity broken by the occasional howls and calls of beasts.

As always, the jungle was indifferent to the troubles of a lone vrix.

He still felt the echoes of Lacey’s touch, of her breath caressing his hide, of her body clinging to his, and he felt her presence just as clearly. Felt that enduring thread binding him to her, beckoning him toward her.

He’d survived hopeless situations time and again. He’d claimed victory in battles he shouldn’t have been able to win, had faced overwhelming danger, had bled and suffered and struggled with all the stubbornness he could muster. But the fight to resist Lacey’s pull…

The outcome was inevitable. For the first time in his life, he knew his efforts would be for nothing. He could not win this. His instincts would prevail. Because in his hearts…he’d already claimed her as his mate.