“Not tonight,” I tell Shorshie. “Perhaps in the morning. I think we would not be good company.”
She gives me an understanding nod and pulls her mate away. I take Mardok by the arm and lead him toward my small house on the edge of the village. Chahm-pee prances behind us, nipping at my boots playfully. He does not understand why the mood is a grave one, only that it is time to play. I move him to the house that is his stable, put food in his basket and make sure he has fresh water. I give him a quick scratch and promise to spend more time with him tomorrow.
Tonight, I must be with my mate. With my little dvisti secure for the evening, I head to my house and push aside the privacy screen over the door. “Give me a moment to start a fire,” I tell Mardok, entering and heading to the fire pit.
It is dark inside, but I know my small house by feel alone, and my flint and tinder are where I left them. I make a spark quickly, dropping it onto a pile of tinder and blowing on it until it is large enough to hold its flame as I feed it dung chips. As I work, I wonder what he will think of my small house. It is not brightly lit like his is. My bed is not on a platform, but on the stone floor and is nothing more than a pile of the softest, thickest furs. I have a small alcove for my toilet, a stone counter for my cooking, and a fire pit. I have a rackfor my weapons, a few stools, and colorful, woven hangings that Tee-fah-ni and Meh-gan have made for me. It is a small chamber, and very different from his. And it is important to me that he does not find it…crude.
As I work the fire, he moves around the house, gazing at my things. He moves toward the stone wall and peers at it. “Are these hieroglyphs?”
“I do not know that word.”
“Stone drawings? Language?”
I shrug. “They were here before we came. Some of the walls have pictures, some do not.” They do not interest me much, though a few of the humans are fascinated by them.
“Huh,” he says. “If they’re anything like these pictures, they’re ugly creatures. Four arms and no horns.”
“They are long gone,” I say, and add a teasing note to my voice. “You do not have to worry about them returning to scare you out of your sleep.”
He looks over at me, and a hint of a smile curves his mouth. “Guess not.”
I like that his mood is lightening a bit. I stoke the fire higher, adding in even more fuel so he will not be cold. It’s odd to look over and not see his eyes glowing in the darkness.No khui,I remind myself. Maybe never. And I grow a little sad at the thought. Just as quickly, I push it aside. If I will only have a few days with Mardok, then I will make the most of them. I will grieve and feel sorry for myself later, when his ship has disappeared from the sky and I am left empty and alone.
But for now, he is here. I will worry about everything else tomorrow. I pat the stool next to where I crouch. “Come and sit by the fire.”
Mardok approaches, and I notice some of the strain is easing from his face now that we are alone. I am glad. He sitsdown and unbuckles the front of his suit, then rubs his hands and holds them out to the fire. “It’s getting colder.”
“It does get brisk when the suns go down. Do not worry—we will stay warm under the furs.”
Instead of making him smile, he looks unhappy. “Farli…”
“Shhh,” I tell him. “I ask nothing of you but your company while you are here. You cannot stay, and I am not sure I wish to leave.” I shake my head. “It is as it has been made. All we can do is enjoy the time we have.”
His eyes are still sad, but he nods. When I stand, he grabs me by the hips and tugs me into his lap. “If that’s the case, then I’m not letting go of you tonight.”
I chuckle and wrap my arms around his neck, because I do not mind this in the slightest. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“Nope.” Mardok presses a kiss to the bony plates on my shoulder. “I was cold, but I’m warmer with you in my arms.”
“Shall we undress and get under the furs? You will be much warmer with your naked skin pressed against mine.”
He closes his eyes and groans, pressing his forehead to the exact spot he just kissed. “Have mercy on a man.”
“Why? It is practical.”
“And I won’t be able to resist touching you.”
I snort. Is that his only worry? “Why should you resist it? I want to touch you, too.”
He lifts his head. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”
Using me? With my khui singing a wild, needy song in my chest? With my body aching and feeling hollow a bit more every day because we haven’t mated? I am already slick between my thighs, and my pulse is pounding. If he does not touch me soon, I am going to be the one using him.
The idea has merit.
But since he is reluctant, I get to my feet and stand betweenhis legs. I undo the ties on my leather tunic and shrug it off my shoulders, leaving my torso bare. He gazes at my teats, a hungry expression on his face. I want him to touch me. I feel as if I am dying for it. And yet he does not reach for what I offer him. Does he truly think I will hate him if he touches me and then leaves me behind?
I could never hate him. Ever.
