I found my lips were parted as I listened to it, found that some of my previous annoyance had given way to bafflement.
“I liked you better when you were slapping me across the face,” he purred.
I frowned, beyond confused. I wondered if all Dakkari were this…perplexing.
“Now, leikavi, I told you a story yesterday,” he murmured. “Now it is your turn to tell me one.” He gave me a dark grin. “And as you do, you are not allowed to break my gaze.”
At least I had my answer.
Chapter Eleven
“What story do you want to be told?” she asked me, frowning.
I breathed in her soft scent deeply until I could taste it on my tongue. I frightened her. Unsettled her. And yet, she’d still stood up to me, glaring at me as she sat draped across my lap.
I…liked that about her.
What story did I want to hear?
I wanted to hear all her stories. But I knew that she would not tell me what I truly wanted to know. Not yet.
The logical part of my mind—the part that I ignored most of the time—told me I needed to gain her trust. And I wouldn’t be able to do that if I kept frightening her, or threatening her, or unsettling her all the time.
I needed to tread carefully. There was more at stake here than my own…entertainment. She might open herself up to me eventually. But it wouldn’t be today, or tomorrow, or the next day. But it very well needed to be before the black moon. Even before then, I amended mentally, to allow me time to make plans.
“Tell me about why you learned to fear the Vorakkars.”
She tensed. “No.”
“Why?” I rasped.
Nillima, my pyroki, picked up her pace suddenly, briefly, and the force of her gait bounced the kalles in my lap. She sucked in a painful breath while I forced myself to hide my growl. The rocking, grinding motion of her backside over my cock was not helping matters. At times, she moved on me like she was fucking me and I needed a distraction.
“You told me the story of the heartstone yesterday because I told you about when I’d been taken to the Dead Mountain. It was an exchange of information,” she informed me.
A slow grin spread across my face and she stared at my sharpened incisors with a strange expression. “Very well. I am a fair male, after all,” I murmured, though my tone sounded mocking to my own ears. “One of your stories in exchange for one of mine then.”
She was suspicious. But intrigued. She’d liked the story of the heartstone yesterday. She was a female who enjoyed stories. I had felt her excitement, her sadness, her contentedness. Those emotions had poured from her easily as she’d gotten lost in the short tale I’d told her.
And she wanted another. A greedy kalles with an appetite for others’ stories.
Well, I had many stories. Not many that were suitable for a female like her but I had a few she might like to hear. Maybe even my sister’s own story.
My mood darkened at the thought, a crippling wave of sadness descending over me. My empty, battered heart gave a dull, pitiful thud, always searching for her and knowing she was gone forever. Yet through the sadness, I found that thread of rage and I gripped it, hanging onto it, until it pulled me away.
Anger, fury, and rage…my oldest and truest friends. They had kept me warm even when my soul had frosted over.
“Tell me why you concealed your hair then,” I said, my tone coming out harsher than I’d intended.
She was still frowning. Nillima jostled us again and her fingers clutched the furs that draped over my chest. I didn’t even think she realized it.
A strand of her hair fluttered across her cheek. Another strand whipped across my chest.
“Maman always told me to,” she said quietly, keeping my eyes bravely.
“Mam—an?” I repeated, brow furrowing.
“My mother,” she told me.
“Is that a different language than the universal tongue?”
“I think so,” she said. When her eyes strayed, she seemed to remember my command quickly and they darted back to me. “There were many languages on Old Earth. My mother called her mother maman, who called her mother maman. As a way to remember. But I am also certain so much has already been lost.”
My lips pulled down. Her voice was gentle, soothing even, but I sensed her sadness. For the first time,