Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
He'd initially trapped this creature because I wanted a pelt. Went out into the hills at night to pull up his traps once he realized I was upset about my own stupid request and brought this one back to me instead of killing it anyhow, which would have been the easiest thing to do.
It's very...kind.
Not something I thought I'd ever say about the surly cat-man gladiator. Kind isn't a word that comes up when you talk about Valmir. The words that usually come up are four-letter in nature and vulgar. I stroke the two-fang's strange head with a fingertip, and maybe it's my imagination, but it seems less frightened than before, the shivering less intense. "Bringing it back to me was really nice of you."
A strange, almost constipated look crosses his face. "I am not nice."
"What you did was nice."
"I didn't have a choice! I don't like your tears." He sounds utterly betrayed, as if my emotions were something he never bargained for.
"I don't like them either," I admit. It makes me feel vulnerable to show someone else that I'm struggling to adjust. I hold the animal against my chest and look around my hut for something that could make a nest for it. My kingdom for a cardboard box or an old milk crate. "Help me make a home for him so he doesn't run off?"
Valmir glances around the hut and strides forward, heading for the big, dried-reed basket where I keep my belongings. He dumps everything out onto my bed, and I bite back a protest. I did ask him for help. He studies the now-empty basket and sets it down. "Where are your scraps?"
I point to another basket closer to Dawn's things. The people on the beach waste nothing and so everyone has scrap baskets of leather, shell, bone, anything that might be needed at some point. He grabs the empty basket and the scrap basket, sits them both in front of him, and begins to work. I watch as he pulls out a long strand of cord and begins to weave bits of bone through it, making a patchwork net to cover the top of the basket. I should have thought of that.
Then again, it's hard to think of anything when I've got my khui pounding an excited beat in my chest, and his body is only a few feet away from mine.
It's like being drugged, I decide. Resonance is a roofie that makes you desperately like the person you're resonating to, even when they irritate the snot out of you. It's not quite an aphrodisiac. While there is part of me that wants to fuck his brains out, the even bigger part of me is noticing how big and strong his hands are, how capably he's handling the situation, and how thoughtful it was for him to bring this creature back to me.
My brain isn't just wanting me to boink him. It's pointing out all the ways he might be a good mate, which is terrifying on a whole different level.
"I don't understand you," Valmir says again, his hands working deftly on weaving the net.
Are we back on this? I pet the tiny head under my hand, noticing that my new friend is soft like a bunny. "It's okay, I don't understand me either."
"I am just trying to determine the guidelines for which animals are pets and which ones are food, since I'll be feeding you in the future. You will be my mate, so it's important I know these things."
His casual comment makes my mouth go dry. Because...it's true, right? I don't have a single example I can point to that I can say "these two resonated and called it quits." I might be looking at my future husband right now, and the soft, resonating part of me squeals with joy.
The rest of me feels sour as fuck about it.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't comment about my issues to anyone else," I say, petting the critter in my arms. "It's very personal. I don't want them to think less of me."
Valmir nods. "I will not speak of it."
"Thank you."
He's quiet for a long moment, and just when I start to relax, glances up at me. "So tomorrow, when you feed me, is it going to be fish? Our dinner together?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead, to be honest."
He finishes the net with a twist of his fingers and spreads it over the top of the basket. He stretches it taut, then uses a few spiky bits of bone to anchor it to the weave. When the 'lid' is in place, he presses his hand against it, testing. It holds, and he seems rather pleased with himself. He shoots me a sly look. "You are lucky to have me around."
"Lucky isn't the word coming to mind at the moment."