Chapter 62: Faking
Kael pulled his tunic back on with a satisfied stretch, still casting soft glances at Veyna as she sat curled beneath the blanket, her hands tight in her lap.
Before he could say anything else, a voice called out from outside.
"Kael!" It was Joel, one of the younger males in the hunting group—loud, overeager, and always bouncing around like a pup with too much energy. "Hunting party’s forming up near the west ridge. You dragging your tail or what?"
Kael chuckled, grabbing his satchel. "Guess duty calls."
Veyna nodded faintly. "Be safe."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, gentle and trusting.
And then... he was gone.
Veyna sat in the sudden quiet, the weight of her body and soul pressing heavy on her chest. She waited until his footsteps faded, then slowly rose from the bed, wincing as her body protested. Every step sent aches rippling up her thighs, her pussy sore and oversensitive, her asshole burning from the brutal stretching Allen had given her the night before.
She cleaned up as best she could, moving gingerly. There was no fixing the limp. No hiding the way her legs refused to close. She just... hoped no one was watching.
But when she stepped outside, the cool breeze brushing her sore skin, her eyes instinctively scanned the paths ahead—and she stopped dead.
Across the small open square of huts, her gaze landed on the familiar structure where Allen had been staying.