Enthralled by Tiffany Roberts
Chapter 25
The humans had dimmedthe lights in the chamber some time ago, leaving only the softest white glow that shrouded most of the space in shadow. The cryochambers were dark shapes even to Ketahn’s keen eyes, as black as the holes in which the dead of Takarahl were placed to rest. But he knew that was his wandering mind seeking darkness in every corner, searching for gloom, for danger, for death. He knew it was the work of instincts with roots deeper than the Tangle’s oldest, tallest trees—instincts that saw doom hiding in every shadowed recess.
And for once, his instincts could not be trusted. Fear was natural to all creatures. Vrix were no more immune to it than any other beasts, no matter how large or small. This night, perhaps more than any other in Ketahn’s lifetime, was one when all those fears threatened to rise to the surface.
Something as murky and foreboding as the water that had flooded the ship’s corridors lurked at the edges of Ketahn’s mind, slinking from shadow to shadow. It openly presented itself only in the lump of dread sunken low in his belly—a weighty feeling that something would go wrong, that all this would be for nothing, that Zurvashi would have her way in the end.
That Ketahn would fail, and all these innocents, including his mate, would suffer for it.
But he would not allow such fears to lay claim to him. At dawn, the new life for which Ketahn had so long yearned would finally begin. And his mate, his Ivy, would be there with him.
Ketahn tightened his hold on her and glanced down. As always, she was sleeping upon him, chest to chest, her spun-gold hair draped across his hide and disturbed only by her slow, soft breaths. Delicately, he hooked some of that hair with a finger and lifted it away from her face.
His little mate was as beautiful as ever. The gentle light caressed her skin, which was no longer quite as pale as it had been when he’d first seen her. That seemed a lifetime ago now.
Her face was tilted toward his. One of her cheeks rested upon his chest, over his hearts, and her eyes were closed, making her lashes look even darker and fuller than usual. Her brow was relaxed, freed from the worries she so often carried during her waking moments. And her lips...
Still swollen from their mating at the cavern earlier, Ivy’s full, pink lips beckoned Ketahn, calling to those desires that never would—or could—be satisfied. At first sight, he’d likened her lips to a pair of plump grubs, but even then, they’d fascinated him. Disgust had become curiosity; curiosity had become longing. And after the way she’d used those lips to pleasure him today, that longing was now closer to need.
He was suddenly much more aware of her weight atop him and of her delicious warmth, which was trapped beneath the silk blanket draped over her. His hands, unbidden, trailed down her back and slid to her sides, following the flare of her hips to sample the yielding flesh of her backside, which was bare thanks to her her skirt having ridden up to her waist.
Yet he was also aware of the quiet sounds in the room—the low, ceaseless humming he always felt through the floor; the slow, hushed rhythms of humans and vrix breathing in their sleep; the huskier, more erratic sounds of Will slumbering in his open pod. The humans called it snoring.
Ahnset, Telok, Rekosh, and Urkot were scattered on their own makeshift nests, all asleep as far as Ketahn could tell. His broodsister had settled herself with her back against Ella’s cryochamber. One of Ella’s arms hung past the edge of the pod’s bed so her hand, so small and frail, could rest upon Ahnset’s broad shoulder.
Even in this unnaturally cool, dry air, even in the depths of night, the sheen of sweat on Ella’s skin was apparent.
Everyone else was sleeping securely in this human built chamber, taking advantage of what might well have been their last safe night for a long while. And yet here was Ketahn with his mate nestled against him and his mind overcome by swirling chaos, unable to choose between his desire for Ivy and his many concerns about what tomorrow would bring—most of which were no more than vague, partially formed imaginings.
Barely holding back a growl, Ketahn forced all the thoughts out of his mind and narrowed his focus to his senses. To the feel of Ivy’s body, to her sweet, familiar scent, to the faded but unmistakable traces of her delectable taste upon his tongue. He closed his eyes; the darkness almost reached its fullness behind his eyelids, but golden threads danced in his mind’s eye.
Heaviness settled over him, bringing a sense of peace and certainty. Tonight, Ketahn had his mate. He could face everything else tomorrow.
He finally succumbed to sleep.
A sound roused him, reaching through the fog of sleep to brush against his awareness. Movement. But even as his eyes slitted open, he knew the rustling of movement hadn’t been what woke him. His hearts had beat scarce once more before the first sound repeated—coughing.
His instincts told him it was not yet morning, but he could sense the impending suncrest like it was a familiar vrix spied from the far end of one of Takarahl’s long tunnels.
Ivy stirred in Ketahn’s arms as he turned his head to look at Ella and Ahnset. Absently, he smoothed his hands up and down his mate’s back, watching as Ella grasped the side of her pod and, trembling, drew herself into a sitting position. The blanket that had cocooned her—Ivy’s blanket, which she’d lent to the ill female yesterday—fell away from Ella’s shoulders and chest. Her body shook with more muffled coughing.
Ahnset rose and twisted toward Ella, placing a supportive hand on the human’s back. That hand spanned Ella’s back from shoulder to shoulder and nearly top to bottom. In vrix, Ahnset whispered, “Easy, little one. Breathe.”
Only a few of the others seemed to have awoken—Telok’s green eyes were alert from his place near the door, Rekosh had pulled himself upright using the cloth-shrouded pod beside which he’d slept, and Lacey had lifted her head off the bed of her cryochamber to look bleary-eyed through the gloom at Ella.
“You okay?” Lacey asked.
“Just... Just need some air. F-fresh air,” Ella managed to say softly between coughs.
With a troubled light in her eyes, Ahnset glanced at Ketahn.
He tilted his head toward the door and gestured with one hand.
Ella’s coughing subsided, but she looked little comforted by the respite. There were frantic patches of color on her cheeks that stood out harshly against her sickly pale, sweat-slickened skin, and her breaths were shallow, labored, and rapid.
Ahnset shifted her huge body toward the front of the pod. Gently, she hooked a bent finger beneath Ella’s chin and guided the female to look at her. Ahnset pointed to herself, then to Ella, before waving a hand toward the door.
Ella nodded and offered a smile; the expression looked thin and strained, genuine but made at some unseen cost.
Rising fully, Ahnset bent over the cryochamber, carefully gathered Ella in her arms, blanket and all, and turned toward the door. She paused only to collect her war spear and her bag before striding forward.
Telok was watching Ahnset when she reached the door. He cocked his head, eyes narrowing slightly, and a brief, uncertain tremor coursed through his mandibles.
Ahnset reached forward and pressed the button on the doorframe. The door made its usual hiss and slid open, allowing red light to spill in from the corridor beyond. She hesitated for three heartbeats, attention locked on Telok, before she hunched down, twisted aside, and—with more than a few contortions of her limbs—squeezed through the too small opening.
Lacey laid her head down again. Rekosh eased back onto the floor.
Telok stood up, braced a hand on the doorframe, and leaned through to glance into the corridor. His suspicion should have roused Ketahn’s, but Ivy made a sleepy, confused sound and began to push herself up off Ketahn’s chest.
“Is Ella okay?” she asked.
“Shh. She is okay.” Ketahn dropped his gaze to his mate, resuming the soothing up-and-down motions of his hands on her back. “Back to sleep, my heartsthread.”
With a sigh, she relaxed and sank atop him, rubbing her cheek against his chest. He could not help again noticing the press of her warm, soft body atop him.
The door whispered shut, and Telok’s hide rasped against the wall as he lowered himself to the floor. Ketahn meant to look at his friend, to wordlessly pose a question and find out what had passed between Telok and Ahnset, but a weariness beyond any he’d known crashed down upon him. Ketahn’s eyelids fell. Somehow, he kept his hands moving until the darkness swallowed him utterly.
“Ketahn.”
The deep, familiar voice dragged Ketahn out of sleep, splashing alertness over him as surely as if it had been a pot of cold water dumped on his head. Though he felt as though he’d only just closed his eyes, he knew time had passed on an instinctual level. Not much time, but time all the same.
Ivy still lay atop him, languid and sleep warm, and he swore he could still feel her body thrumming from their mating the day before. But Telok was here, too, his legs bent so his underside was almost on the floor.
“They are gone, Ketahn,” Telok said.
“Who?” Ketahn asked, but he knew the answer before that tiny word had been fully shaped in his mouth.
The cold, hard lump within him expanded, pressing up into his chest and making it hard to draw breath.
“Ahnset and Ella. I went to check on them when it felt like they had been gone too long. But they are not outside.”
Ketahn braced a pair of hands on the floor and pushed himself into a more upright position, keeping a snug hold on his mate. Ivy stirred again, tensing as she stretched against him. He pressed the tips of his mandible fangs together and fought back his rising panic.
“Has the sun yet crested, Telok?”
“Only just,” Telok replied. “But a storm came during the night and has yet to cease.”
Ivy covered a yawn with her hand and combed her fingers through her hair, sweeping it out of her face. “What’s going on?”
The words of Ketahn’s response sounded as though they were laced with hurt and uncertainty, even to him. In English, he said, “Ahnset has taken Ella.”
Ivy braced her elbow against his chest, driving her weight upon it as she shoved herself up. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving. “What? What does that mean, Ketahn? Taken her where?”
Any signs of grogginess had been banished from her features. Ketahn felt her heart quickening through all the contact their bodies still shared; it could not match the pace of his already racing hearts.
“Ahnset has taken Ella away from here,” he replied.
“Why? To where? Ketahn, what is—”
Cold certainly flooded him, undaunted by the fear in his mate’s voice, undeterred by the confused murmurings as the others woke.
“She is taking Ella to Takarahl, Ivy.”
Panic glinted in her eyes, threatening to overwhelm their clear, calm-skies blue. A thousand unspoken questions danced in her gaze like the loose threads of a hastily spun web in the breeze, none strong enough to take priority over the others.
It mirrored Ketahn’s emotions; he was overcome by a thousand feelings, all conflicting, a thousand thoughts, all spiraling out of control, none of them helpful. There was doom in that tangled web, death. Betrayal. But all the same, he knew he had not been betrayed.
Words he’d once spoken to his broodsister echoed from his memory.
You have always seen things as they should be, Ahnset, rather than as they are.
Ketahn had initially argued against waking these humans. He knew his sister would have sided with Ivy, though she had not known any of these beings.
As quickly but gently as he could, Ketahn slid Ivy off him, setting her on the floor. She got onto her knees, watching as he twisted, gathered his legs beneath him, and rose.
“Ketahn?”
“She means to help.” He reached aside to take his spear from its place against the wall. “But she is mistaken in how to do so.”
“What’s going on?” asked Ahmya, sitting up in her cryochamber.
“Something’s wrong,” said Callie.
“No shit,” muttered Cole.
“Not helpful, man.” Diego had already swung his legs over the side of his pod and was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Ivy was on her feet now, staring up at Ketahn with more unease in her eyes. “Ketahn... What’s going to happen?”
Bending down, Ketahn took hold of her arms with his lower hands. Ivy clutched the undersides of his forearms.
He used his free upper hand to smooth her tousled hair. In that moment, she seemed so small, so vulnerable, so lost and alone. Ketahn’s every instinct roared against that; even seeing hints of such upon her face was too much to bear. And yet... In her concern, she was as beautiful as ever. That compassion and caring made her spirit so radiant that it shone brighter than any star, than either of the moons, than the sun itself.
He brushed his mouth against the side of her neck and breathed deep her scent, making no effort to quiet the hungry, appreciative rumble in his chest. At the same time, he stroked a foreleg against her calf. He needed as much of her fragrance upon him as possible before the rain washed everything away.
Ketahn wanted nothing more than to stay here with her forever. He wanted to stop caring about everything and everyone else. He wanted to be free of the responsibility, the guilt.
But each thump of his hearts marked another moment closer to disaster.
“Tell them that my broodsister has gone to get aid for Ella,” he rasped in vrix.
“Why can you not tell them yourself?” she replied shakily in the same tongue. He knew by the resignation in her tone that she already understood.
He drew back to meet her gaze. “I will do all I can to find Ahnset before she reaches Takarahl.”
“Let me go instead, Ketahn,” said Telok gruffly. There was something hard in his eyes, a determination with which Ketahn had once been quite familiar.
One of the humans—it sounded like Will—asked Ivy what was happening. She turned her head toward him and responded in English, relaying Ketahn’s message.
“We are all friends with her.” Rekosh spread his arms to either side, palms up. “Any of us could go in your stead.”
Telok gnashed his mandibles, fine hairs bristling. “You are needed here, Ketahn.”
The humans were all awake and out of their pods now, wearing their worries plainly on their faces. Some of them spoke to one another; their voices held no meaning to Ketahn now.
Ketahn looked at his friends one by one. “In this, it must be me. This matter... It runs to my broodsister’s core. Only I have any hope of changing her path. And she could not have journeyed far in the time since she left.”
Urkot grunted and tapped a leg on the floor. “Yet should Ahnset get to Takarahl—”
“Tomorrow is the day I am expected to fulfill my word to Zurvashi,” Ketahn said, holding down the flare of rage that had erupted at the center of his dread. “Today, I still have some grace. The queen will be of no concern.”
“Unless she sees you.” Though Ivy had not raised her voice, her words filled in all the empty space within the chamber, making the air impossibly thick and heavy.
Ketahn returned his attention to her. His heartsthread pulled taut, quivering beneath enormous pressure. This was not how things were meant to go. This was not how they’d laid out their plans, not how they’d prepared.
But there was one lesson Ketahn should have learned over and over again throughout his life if no other—the Tangle had no interest in anyone’s plans.
And his mate, for all her softness, all her kindness, was certainly no fool. He could not argue with her concern. He could not tell her not to worry—the words wouldn’t even form in his throat.
Lowering his head, Ketahn tipped his headcrest against Ivy’s forehead. She slid her hands up the backs of his arms, her nails raking his hide, until they were at his shoulders.
He took in another lungful of her scent and rasped, “I will return to you, my nyleea. I promise.”
She closed her eyes, digging her nails a little deeper into his flesh. “You had better weave those words into the strongest bond in the universe, my luveen.”
Despite everything, Ketahn chittered. It eased some of his tension, if only briefly, and he lifted his mandibles in a smile. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her small body against him. A voice in the back of his mind, far too quiet, insisted that this was not a farewell, that everything would be all right.
That he would return to this place soon enough with Ella and Ahnset alongside him.
Lovewas not unknown to the vrix, though they did not have a word to encompass the feeling—which to Ketahn seemed more like a collection of feelings, all woven together into a single web, unfathomably strong and large, warm and secure, comforting and maddening. But Ivy giving name to it had put all the pieces into place for him. It had solved a puzzle he’d not known he’d been staring at for so long.
Two moon cycles ago, he’d been content to meet his eventual end having never had a mate. Now he would do everything he could to ensure his final moments, whenever they came, were spent at her side.
“My hearts beat for you, Ivy.”
“And my heart beats for you. I love you, Ketahn.”
Ivy stood on her toes, tipped her head back, and kissed him on the mouth, gifting him another taste of those soft, yielding lips, though the kiss was born of desperation. Ketahn trilled, low and rolling, just for her. He told himself that he’d have another taste soon enough.
She leaned her forehead against his headcrest. “Please come back to me,” she begged, her voice breaking.
Ketahn trailed a finger along her delicate jaw, tilting her face up so her watery eyes met his. “I will, my heartsthread.”
He adjusted his hold on the spear and slung his bag over his shoulder on his way to the door.