Page 36 of The Delver (The Vrix #2)

Urkot took in her scent. It was sweet and potent, carrying the lingering aroma of her essence. Heat suffused his blood, pressure coalesced in his pelvis, and his claspers twitched and reached for her as the desire he thought he’d resisted surged back with a fury.

Her scent.

Breaking the kiss, he snatched his claspers back, crossing them over his slit and pressing them down hard enough to create a throbbing ache beneath. In a harsh breath, he said, “By their eightfold eyes.”

Callie drew back from him. “What’s wrong?”

“Your scent.”

“What about it?”

“It is much strong. And…unique.”

Her brow creased. “Because I’m human?”

“Yes. But also your pussy.”

“My—” Her eyes widened. “Ohhhh.”

Then she glared and jabbed his chest with a finger. “You mean this whole time I’ve been smelling like that, and you didn’t say anything?”

Urkot huffed. “It is the best smell. But if a spiritstrider scents you…”

The first spiritstrider they’d encountered had likely picked up Callie’s scent and come to investigate the source, hungry and curious.

“Okay, we need to cover up my scent somehow,” she whispered, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t think just a simple wipe down with water is going to accomplish much.”

Callie withdrew from the blanket and took a step back, her boots crunching softly on the ground. Urkot tugged the blanket off himself.

She winced, looked down, and paused, her head tilting as her face lit up. “Wait. I have an idea.”

Removing the waterskin, Callie dampened a cloth and briskly rubbed her inner thighs and sex. Urkot watched, enrapt, wishing it was his hand cleaning her instead. But he knew he could not trust himself to merely clean her. He knew he would not be able to wipe away her essence and leave it at that.

In a situation like this, mating shouldn’t even have been a fleeting thought, yet it remained a driving urge, clawing at his mind incessantly.

His want for her was a hunger that could not be sated.

And it didn’t seem to lessen even at times like this, when it clashed directly with his powerful instinct to protect her.

Callie crouched, returned the items to her pack, then swiped her hands over the ground, gathering a pile of fine dust. She scooped it up and ran it over her arms, turning her brown skin to a shade of gray.

It reminded Urkot of the permanent stains on his fingers and the tips of his legs from a lifetime of working stone.

Understanding fell into place suddenly, and he felt like a fool for not realizing what she was doing immediately. It was so simple yet so clever. His mandibles rose. “You are making yourself one with the stone.”

As she stood, coating her legs with more dust, she smiled at him. “Hopefully it works.”

After she’d covered her skin and patted her clothing and hair, she gathered more dust and approached him.

Her palms brushed over the blue markings on his shoulders, dulling their glow.

Even the slight abrasion of the dust being rubbed against his hide couldn’t diminish the thrill her touch brought him.

“My female is smart,” Urkot said, brushing a finger lightly over her arm.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, and her lips curled up into a smile, making her dimples stand out.

“And she is pretty,” he added. “Most pretty.”

Callie moved closer and reached up to run her fingers over the markings on his headcrest. “Even covered in dust?”

“No matter your coverings. Always most pretty.”

Her smile widened, and she pressed her lips to his mouth in a gentle kiss. Eyes flicking between his, she said in a quiet voice, “Let’s get out of here so my big softie of a male can show his pretty mate just how much he likes her.”

“I am not soft, female,” he growled, “but I do like you. Much, much like.”

And he intended to show her how much. He’d worship her until she sang in pleasure, would taste her as he so deeply desired, would fill her with his seed, would leave no question that she belonged to him now and forever.

Once she’d covered all his markings, he grabbed her bag, intending to stuff the blanket inside. But something within caught his eye. He withdrew her knife, snug in its little sheath.

Urkot put the blanket away and tugged the blade free. Though the weapon was small, he knew it was exceptionally sharp and durable, surpassing anything the vrix could fashion. Turning the handle toward her, he held the knife up to Callie.

She frowned at it.

“If we are discovered…I would not have you without a weapon,” he said softly.

“Yeah. Just in case.” She accepted the knife, keeping the point angled downward.

Closing her bag, Urkot helped her sling it over her shoulders, then assisted her in climbing onto his hindquarters. She eased into place, wrapping her arms around his chest and her thighs around his middle, with the knife, its blade pointed away from him, tucked in her fist.

He returned to the ledge overlooking the cavern. It followed along the right side of the cave, gradually descending to the floor, and had the look of a deliberately created path, albeit one that hadn’t seen use or care in a long, long while.

With Callie secure, he began his descent.

Every thread of his attention felt like it was being pulled in a different direction.

Not only did he need to watch the spiritstriders, but he had to survey every bit of his path, had to ensure each leg came down in exactly the right place with exactly the right pressure lest the sound of a disturbed pebble or rustling plant draw unwanted attention.

The care and control required was a strain on Urkot’s entire being, body and mind.

As they neared the bottom, the cavern’s distinct scents strengthened. The smell of clean water, cloying plants, and the spiritstriders could not mask the prevalent odors of blood and meat, both fresh and rotting.

The sound of the stream grew louder, and the spiritstrider voices more distinct, but Urkot understood little even with the improving clarity.

Their tongue was like a root that had been hacked off its mother tree and had grown into something strange and almost unrecognizable, though the similarities could not be denied upon closer inspection.

When they reached the cavern floor, his chest constricted, and it became a struggle to draw breath.

Looking upon the spiritstriders from above had not been nearly so unsettling, despite their numbers.

The height of his perch had made him feel separated from the threat and granted him a false sense of safety.

No retreat.

Keeping as low to the ground as he could, Urkot crept forward along the stream’s right bank.

The rasp of leaves against his hide made his hearts leap every time, though he was certain it was a sound he merely felt rather than heard.

As much as possible, he kept the larger rocks between himself and the opposite bank, utilizing the cover and scant shadows available to him.

Whenever a spiritstrider made that clicking sound, Urkot’s insides churned. A shallow stream and a few segments of open ground was not enough of a barrier.

His whole body ached more with each measured step, but he could not allow weariness to deter him.

A pair of female spiritstriders gave stern words to their broodlings before striding toward the stream on a path that would bring them directly across the water from Urkot.

His fine hairs stood, and his hide felt suddenly taut, as though it were stretched terribly thin over his body.

Callie stiffened atop him, pressing herself as flush against him as she could.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Broodmother, grant us your mercy.

He hurried to the nearest boulder and hid behind it, bracing an arm against the cool stone.

With his breath caught in his throat, he listened as the females drew nearer, their heavy steps and voices sharpening. Something splashed in the water on the other side of the rock. One female made a throaty, chuffing sound, followed by more splashing.

Urkot held completely still despite the fire pulsing in his tensed muscles. Callie trembled, her face buried against his back, her nails and the knife’s handle digging into his chest. He and Callie hadn’t been spotted. They were hidden, out of sight.

Weren’t they?

The splashing continued. The spiritstriders exchanged a few more words before one began to drink. Her long, deep gulps were so close, so clear, that they made Urkot shudder. His instincts screamed danger, imploring him to either flee this place or fight—to do anything but remain unmoving.

But either choice would make his presence known to the spiritstriders, placing his mate in more danger. No, the safest option was to keep hiding…and hope the spiritstriders didn’t catch his and Callie’s scents.

Farther away, a broodling cried out in a high wail. One of the females growled. Urkot’s fingers twitched, nearly scraping the boulder with his claws.

With a series of angry splashes and stomps, the females stormed away.

Urkot exhaled and drew fresh air into his blazing lungs. His heartbeat pounded throughout his body, fast and loud, making the ends of his limbs feel oddly hot and tingly.

He forced himself forward. This endeavor demanded all his strength, all his control, all his concentration, all of him.

Urkot would never understand how Telok and Ketahn moved like this—utterly silent, totally unseen—so effortlessly.

But he would endure this again and again, endlessly, if it was necessary to keep Callie safe.

From rock to rock, shadow to shadow, he advanced along the stream. Dread built in his gut every time he lowered a leg; he anticipated a sound that would give him away with each movement. When no such sounds came, he felt no relief. There were too many steps to go before he left this cavern behind.

Yet even as Urkot’s tension built, a gentle air current grew more defined. It became his guide, leading toward a tunnel opening ahead, not far from the place where the stream flowed into the crevasse.