Serpent of the Abyss by S.J. Sanders
Chapter 16
Returning from his hunt to see the giant zarkulth attacking his mate was one of the most terrifying things he ever experienced, immediately followed by one of his most infuriating moments. Never would he have believed that she would leave the safety of the nest. She was defenseless! The fury that had filled him at her recklessness, however, had melted away completely at the sight of her vulnerable terror. She had received a good scare from the zarkulth, and he could not bring himself to chastise her further. Not then.
For two waking cycles, he did not leave his mate’s side. It was a good thing that he had brought plenty of meat and a fresh supply of fruit down to last them and had managed not to drop anything when he had been forced to drop at such speed onto the zarkulth. They would have been quite hungry, and he would have been forced to part with her to obtain more food before they were ready to be parted. He was fortunate that everything worked out well in that regard; there had been no way to avoid the risk. Dropping down with enough speed was the only way to generate enough force to pierce through their tough exoskeletons. A Seshanamitesh caught on the ground and alone by such a creature was easily slaughtered. His human would have suffered the same fate.
Not one among his people would have faulted him that he abandoned all other thoughts and tasks other than his need to cling to her side. Not with that terror looping through his mind, returning the frightful image of his mate backing away from the creature. It was reasonable that he could not bring himself to leave her. That his mate was also becoming more comfortable in his presence with their extended time together was an unexpected benefit.
He was starting to enjoy her company. And not just out of the hunger of wanting a mate and determination to keep her. Actually, it made him all the more determined.
He liked her songs too. She did not hum like a Seshanamitesh with multi-tonal notes shifting as they rose and lowered in pitch. Instead, they varied so much in rhythm, pitch, and arrangement—something she called a melody—that he was captivated.
Was this fashion of singing common to her species?
He decided that he did not care. Even if he found a human more accomplished than his Lori, he was certain that he would refuse any other for her. She was inquisitive and intelligent. More than once, she made him laugh at some her observations, even if he did not truly understand half of them. He also admired her inner strength as she fought against her fears and was filled with compassion and protective impulses when she needed to be weak. He wanted to be the one to care for her. Even though she was frighteningly fragile and vulnerable physically when compared to Seshanamitesh, he decided that too was perfectly fine. He would protect her.
Smiling to himself, Slengral threaded the twisted grass slowly as his mate peered over his shoulder.
Lori shook her head. “Okay, my mother would follow this just fine, but honestly I don’t even get how that’s staying in place.”
He grinned over at her and lightly flexed the two claws holding the frame taut. “Pressure. Keep everything tight, and when you are finished it will hold itself together,” he assured her.
She narrowed her eyes and watched him for several minutes while he made a second pass, this time weaving in a pale grass. Most of the grasses he collected and stored during the rainy season where they would sprout up in big clusters near the rocks, but the white ones only grew around a deep cavernous lake. Like galthie, they glowed, but what made them special was that if light hit them just right, they shone with beauty.
Very gently he tipped it, allowing the material to catch on the glow of his gavo as he slowly expanded them. A silvery light shot through them and sparkled.
Lori gasped. “That’s beautiful!”
His crests fanned with pride. “I am a hunter, but I also do this. Other males, and many in the shinara too, covet my work. I get good trades for them,” he added.
“I can only imagine,” she said softly. “You have a true skill with it. I can imagine that a lot of people in the Alliance would want one.”
He shot her a curious look, uncertain if she was speaking truthfully.
“Really!” She grinned. “There’s a healthy appreciation for these kinds of skills because so few have the ability to do it themselves and everything is made by machine now.”
He inclined his head in understanding. The shinara had its own machinery and comforts that made their lives easy, but few possessed such skills.
“My mother is a weaver,” she confided, drawing his attention immediately back to her. “Her works were highly sought by those who were willing to pay well. She specialized in silk more than anything and never lacked in customers. She would have loved to be doing this more than anything I think—once she got over being around you, that is,” she finished with a laugh.
Slengral hummed, pleased with the thought that his mate’s mother would have seen worth in him. He took no offense to his mate admitting that her mother would be afraid of him. This was natural. So was the sad note in her voice that told him she was far from them. It was a melancholy he felt at times when he recalled his youth with his mother until the shinara forced separation. Most females give over their juvenile offspring easily, content to let them join with the unmated males and learn to become hunters. His mother was not such a female. She put up a fight and, in the end, had to be restrained while he was delivered to his father.
Pushing sad memories aside, he flicked his tail playfully against her strange, bare foot, enjoying the squeal of laughter she gave.
“I am very frightening,” he agreed, tucking the fiber tightly in place so he could set it down to curl his arms around his female. “A very large and impressive hunter.” He wrapped his arms around her to hold her in place while he continued to torment her with his tail.
His mate choked out a laugh, her bare feet kicking out, her bare breasts bobbing in a way that caught his eye. Once she explained what they were, he had become even more intrigued by them and desired to play with their softness.
His eyes fastened to the soft mounds, wanting to drag his tongues over the tips to see what reaction he might get. He was so terribly tempted. Her laughter died and she cleared her throat, drawing his gaze reluctantly from the flesh.
“I know you have this no covering things you prefer, and it’s not cold so I really haven’t objected strongly to it as of yet, but this is really making me uncomfortable,” she admitted softly.
Slengral winced. It was rude even by Seshanamitesh standards. A female would beat him—or rather ask a mated female to have her mate beat him in her place—for staring so intently beyond what passed as polite admiration without an invitation.
While he had felt a necessity to reassure himself of the matter with Lori when they met, now he was feeling objections from his conscience that his mate was so uncomfortable. With her thin skin, she suffered discomfort more readily than his kind. Even in the warmth of the nest, she still occasionally shivered. Her insight regarding her mother indicated that the female’s skill with coverings suggested that humans preferred such things.
And he did want his Lori to be happy.
He released an unhappy sigh. “You may cover yourself so you are more comfortable,” he offered.
She slanted him an unreadable look. “Really?”
He gave her a pained look. “Yes,” he growled.
A blindingly beautiful smile that rivaled the suns spread across her face as she flung her arms around him, her soft, bare breasts and belly pressing against his abdomen. They both stilled in surprise, and she slowly drew back, meeting his eyes as color washed up brightly into her cheeks.
“Sorry, I was just showing my appreciation,” she said quickly.
Slengral liked this appreciation.
Cheeks deepening into a brighter red, Lori pulled away and picked up another twisted rope of grass.
“Show me again how to start.” A wobbling inflection in her voice betrayed her nervousness and desire to him. As alien as she was the vibrations in the voice revealed so much in common.
With an inward smile Slengral slid closer, closing his hands lightly over hers.
“Like this,” he murmured.
His wings nearest to her opened wide, curling around her as he guided her through the motions. Her fingers were as clumsy as any beginner, but they were small and nimble. As they worked, the weave became tighter and evener as her confidence grew. From the corner of his eye, he watched the delight grow in her expression and his heart warmed.
He would teach his mate everything he knew.