Page 87 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

"Of course, Mistress." Ogidu inclined his head.

Gertrude glanced at the motorized chair parked by the entry door, then back at Khiann. "I would have gotten rid of this as well, but you will just use the cart to visit your friends. I will leave it here until you can walk on your own for at least twenty minutes without a crutch. I give it two weeks."

"I doubt that." Khiann looked at the walker dispassionately. "I do not mind never seeing that thing again, but I do not see myself walking for twenty minutes without assistance or rest in just two weeks."

"Want to bet on it?" Gertrude opened the sliding door to the backyard. "Whoever loses buys the winner a cup of coffee."

Khiann leaned on the crutch and pushed off the couch. "I will gladly lose to you, but I do not have any money, so I cannot buy you coffee."

"Of course you have money," Annani said. "And plenty of it."

He shook his head. "I did not earn any of it. It is not mine."

"Whatever is mine is yours. We are a married couple."

The look he gave her was pained.

"Do not forget your glasses, Master." Ogidu arrived with two pairs of dark glasses on a tray.

"Thank you." Annani took hers and handed the other pair to Khiann. "And we are not done talking about that issue." She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

He sighed, one of those long-suffering sighs that acknowledged defeat even before the argument began. It was not new. During their short time together, she had won almost every verbal sparring match, but back then he had at least tried.

Annani reclined in her favorite lounge chair, the one she had used to sit in while drinking her morning teas and sometimes reading in the afternoon. Now her backyard had become a training ground, with Gertrude walking the perimeter with Khiann as Annani watched.

She liked her backyard much more now that Khiann was there.

He was doing better than she had expected. The crutch changed his gait, freed his left hand, and made him stand straighter. After the first hesitant circuit, he gained confidence and his strides lengthened. Gertrude walked beside him, offering encouragement and correction in equal measure. By the third circuit, she stopped both because he was doing great.

He had been working hard all week, doing more laps every day with the walker and putting the exercise bar that Gertrude had delivered on Wednesday to good use. Ogidu had installed it across the doorway of Khiann's room, where he did something called pull-ups, hauling his whole body up by the arms until his chin cleared the bar, then lowering himself, and then doing it again.

Annani had been finding all kinds of excuses to pass by the corridor just to see him do that. Watching his strength return thrilled her.

Khiann had also been eating mountains of food, and the shirts that had hung on him a week ago now fit him like they were meant to.

His godly genes had finally awakened and were doing their job. The hollows under his cheekbones were filling, the cords were standing out in his forearms, and the color was returning to a face that had been the color of parchment for a month.

She wanted him.

They had been kissing more often with every passing day, and each time it went a little longer, a little deeper. Each time he was the one who stopped, and each time she forced herself to accept it and not ask for more.

Annani wanted so much more.

She wanted her husband back in her bed. She wanted his clothes in her closet, hanging beside her gowns, his cologne on the bathroom vanity next to her perfume, and the weight of him on the other side of the mattress, or better yet, on top of her. But that was greedy. She would be happy just to sleep naked, pressed against his nude body, and in time, nature would do its thing.

He was afraid. She knew that.

She could have told him it did not need to be perfect. She could wait for the male who had leaped between two moving carriages and made love to her all night long, then again during the day. Right now, she was grateful for the male who could walk around the backyard, leaning on a crutch, and counted herself blessed.

She knew her Khiann, though.

He might not remember himself, but she did, and he was a proud, stubborn male who had to be the best at everything he did.

So, she said nothing.

She sat beside him at the dining table every afternoon while he worked through Vrog's program, ready to help whenever he asked, though he never once asked for her help because he was proud. She offered him compliments and encouragement sparingly, though she was tempted to praise everything he did.

He needed to feel he had earned them, or her words would grate on him.