Ensnared: An Alien Romance Trilogy (The Spider’s Mate Book 1)
Ensnared: Chapter 19

The late morning sun streamed into the den through the opening and cast a bright patch on the floor in which Ivy was currently seated, staring outside as she slowly ate sweetseeds. There was a gentle breeze flowing in, freshening the air, but it carried a hint of cold that spoke of a coming storm.

Ketahn breathed that air deeply. He’d always appreciated the faint scent that preceded the rain; it added a new layer to the already complex blend of jungle smells, making them all seem even more alive and vibrant. But those, unsurprisingly, were not the smells upon which he focused. That breeze swept Ivy’s fragrance straight toward him, and he couldn’t help but take it in greedily.

He pulled the silk thread tight, wrapping it around the shaft of the spear once more before tying it off. After cutting away the excess thread, he grasped the flat of the spearhead in one hand and the shaft just beneath it in the other. The head remained in place when he gave it a tug.

Carefully, Ketahn set the weapon, which was almost half a segment shorter than the spears he was accustomed to, aside. Ivy had selected the wood for the shaft, shaped it, and hardened it herself. She had found the blackrock shard for the head and worked it into shape with her own hands. Soon enough, he’d have her wrap part of the shaft with silk to create a grip as she preferred. And, whenever she made her first kill with it, she would add a small trophy to the spear—a feather, a scale, a fang, or a tiny bone—to enhance its strength.

But he had insisted on setting and securing the spearhead. He would teach her how soon enough, would have her practice until she had perfected it, but her first weapon had to be durable. It had to be reliable. Ketahn had to know it would not fail upon its first thrust.

With his work done, he shifted all his attention to Ivy. Her hair shone like strands of pale gold in the sunlight, surrounding her head in an otherworldly glow. He watched the barest hints of muscle moving under her skin as she plucked another seed from the fruit, brought it to her mouth, and slipped it between her full, pink lips.

Just as surely as he was bound to his broodsister and his friends, Ketahn was bound to Ivy. The connection they shared was deeper than Takarahl’s tunnels, more powerful than a raging storm, and more mysterious than the spirits dwelling in the jungle’s darkest places. It was friendship, yes…but it was unlike any friendship he’d ever had.

He enjoyed his time with her. Enjoyed providing for her. And he enjoyed learning about her, even if so much of her life before waking from what she called a cryochamber had involved things of which he had no understanding. The life he’d shared with Ivy thus far had been fulfilling, enriching, and…happy.

And he could not deny that so much of what he did for her was what any vrix male would do for his mate.

At that thought, his eyes wandered, drifting over her body. In the seven days since she’d been attacked by the unac near the stream, he’d thought about that day often. Ivy had asked a few more times about the ship, had asked him to take her to it, had tried to explain again and again, but he’d refused her each time. The only difference was that they’d both remained calm during those exchanges, though he could tell she was far from deterred.

But the focus of his recollections was always upon the aftermath of that attack, not the cause of the argument that had preceded it. He’d thought about when he’d cleaned and tended her, thought about what she’d told him, about the way she’d reacted. Somehow, he’d kept himself from touching her breasts again, though he’d noticed more than ever when her nipples hardened and poked against the ragged fabric of her shirt. He’d been intrigued by them before, but after hearing that they brought her pleasure when touched…

He wanted nothing more than to run his hands over them, to tease those nipples with his fingers and watch them grow taut. He wanted to explore her entire body with his fingertips and discover all the spots that gave her pleasure, all the spots that coaxed a reaction from her. He wanted to learn what touch would open her slit to him and produce the heady fragrance of her lust.

Yet Ivy was not vrix. She could not be his mate.

That thought had held him back for so long, but it was a fraying thread—with each passing day, it was thinner, weaker, and Ivy being human mattered a little less. The differences between them seemed an ever-shrinking obstacle. He had seen her slit, which she called her pussy, had seen it open, had seen it glisten with her dew. They would fit together. He knew it.

Every day, his certainty that she could not be his mate wavered.

With a huff, Ketahn rose from his place against the wall and crossed the den to Ivy.

She looked up at him and smiled. “All done?”

“Yes,” he said as he settled down beside her. “You will have more work to do on it, but only a little.”

Ivy plucked out a few sweetseeds from their shell and held them out to him. “Thank you.”

He cupped the seeds in his palm and tossed them all into his mouth at once. The burst of juice over his tongue was all the sweeter knowing she had picked the fruit and shared it with him. Once he’d swallowed, he extended his tongue to lick away a bit of juice that had trickled from the corner of his mouth and gestured to her leg. “It is time to tend your cuts again.”

She turned her body toward him and stretched her bandaged leg out to his waiting hand.

Ketahn untied the silk strips and peeled them away. They were clean, just as they had been over the last few days—a good sign, as her wounds had not reopened. Laying the strips aside, he lifted her leg gently and bent down to inspect the cuts.

Ivy wiggled her toes, and when he peered up at her face, she grinned at him. “I can still feel my toes.”

He growled at her in mock irritation and shook his head. “Not amusing, Ivy.”

After he’d tended to the unac that day—they’d only just eaten the last of its meat this morning—Ivy had told him about human ailments. About what she called infections. She’d told him about wounds making people rot from within, about even a tiny cut being enough to kill a human under the right—or wrong—circumstances.

He knew the same was true for vrix, but humans seemed so much smaller and more fragile. So much more prone to dying.

She’d talked about humans losing feeling in their limbs because of such wounds, something Ketahn had not wanted to think of happening to Ivy. And only two days ago she had told him she could not move her foot and toes. In his alarm, he’d begun rummaging through his belongings, desperately seeking something, anything that could help—until he’d heard her laughter. He had not understood her humor at first, as it hadn’t been implied in her tone, and his annoyance upon discovering she had spoken in jest had given her reason to laugh long and hard.

He had eased somewhat when she’d explained that she’d been given some sort of medicine that made her body far more capable of resisting illness. She’d claimed that she likely would have died after eating the sweetfang root were it not for that medicine. Ketahn had accepted that information gratefully, though part of him insisted such a thing wasn’t possible in the realm of the living.

Ivy giggled. “Oh, come on. You know it’s funny. You know you want to laugh.”

“I have hold of your leg”—he slid the pad of a finger along the bottom of her foot—“and I know how to make you laugh against your will.”

She squeaked and nearly pulled her foot out of his grasp in her attempt to escape him. “Ketahn, no!”

Her skin was so sensitive, and she was so responsive to his touch, that it was a struggle for him to relent, especially as his urge to touch her elsewhere intensified. He wouldn’t be able to resist forever; his self-control would eventually crumble, and he’d be helpless but to submit to his desires, to give in to the mating frenzy.

For now, he’d hold strong. It was all he could do.

Withdrawing his finger from her foot, he returned his attention to her cuts. They seemed to be healing well. The discoloration that Ivy had called bruising was all but gone, and the flesh around the wounds no longer looked swollen and irritated. Each cut was scabbed over now, covered in a layer of crust that Ivy said protected the healing flesh beneath.

Though he knew he shouldn’t tempt himself, he delicately brushed a thumb along the pale, unbroken skin to the side of the cuts, marveling at her softness, her smoothness, her sun-instilled warmth. “How does it feel?”

Ivy set the sweetseed shell down. “It’s a little tender and still feels tight when I move it, but it doesn’t hurt.”

Ketahn nodded, staring at his clawed thumb against her skin. He stilled it, giving the side of her leg a gentle squeeze. “No need to bind it while we are in here.”

“Very good, Doctor Ketahn.”

Ketahn chittered. Since she’d explained what a doctor was, he’d found it amusing to think of himself as one—though that amusement would fade were he to pause and consider just how much more harm than healing he’d done in his life. He forced himself to draw back and lift his gaze to hers, trying to ignore the tantalizing body it swept over on its journey.

“So what do you plan for us to do today?” Ivy asked, reclining on her elbows and tilting her head. “Or are we going to spend a lazy day in the nest?”

“It is not lazy to rest, “Ketahn said.

Ivy lifted her other foot and poked him in the chest with her big toe. “I like the way you think.”

He caught that foot in one hand and smiled at her. With a grip on both of her legs, he could so easily drag her closer, could pull her right against him, and then he could hold her like he did through the nights, could continue exploring her body, or he could slide his hands up those legs, spread them wider, and tear off the fabric covering her pelvis to gaze upon the petals of her slit.

His hands tensed, eager to fulfill those desires, but the sharp sound of wood cracking from somewhere outside stilled him.

Ivy started, her eyes rounding. “That sounded close,” she whispered.

Ketahn nodded. Moving slowly and silently, he reached over to grasp the cloth that usually hung across the den’s opening and drew it into place. He remained confident that nothing else could get into the den, but it was best to avoid notice entirely.

“Ketahn?” someone called in a familiar voice from below—Ahnset’s voice. It was strange for him to hear it amongst the trees rather than echoing dully off stone walls, but more than that, it was alarming.

He trusted Ahnset more than anyone, which was why she was the only other vrix who knew the location of his den, but he was not prepared to trust even his broodsister with Ivy. Ahnset was dependable, honest, and caring, but she was also bound by duty to serve the will of the queen…and Ketahn had little question as to what the queen’s will would be regarding his human.

“Ketahn?” Ahnset repeated. “If you are here, come out. I would sooner pull your den down than climb all the way up there.”

Ketahn released Ivy’s legs and, still moving carefully, leaned toward her to cup her cheek in his hand. Keeping his voice low, he said, “I must go. You will be still, silent, and out of sight. You are safe.”

Ivy flattened a palm against his chest as her eyes searched his. She nodded.

He shifted his hand, smoothing it back over her hair and combing his claws through those golden strands. How could he be so reluctant to leave her? It was only Ahnset out there, and the den would be well within view.

But he knew at least part of the reason for his hesitance. Ahnset had come here only a few times over the last seven years, and each time had been due to some dire circumstance. She did not have the time or freedom to visit for the pleasure of Ketahn’s company.

“I saw the cloth move, Ketahn,” called Ahnset. “I will come up.”

Despite the ominous implication of Ahnset’s presence, Ketahn chittered. His hand lingered on Ivy a heartbeat longer before he rose and guided her away from the opening. She crawled backward, shifting onto her knees once she was clear.

Though a hint of unease creased her brow, she seemed steady, seemed calm. Her trust bolstered him; she’d be fine. They’d both be fine.

Ketahn whipped aside the cloth and poked his head out. Ahnset stood upon a thick branch twenty segments below, staring up at the nest with her golden adornments glittering in the fractured shafts of sunlight.

“Your threats do not frighten me, broodsister,” he said. “We both know you cannot climb up.”

She snapped her mandibles. “But I did mention tearing your den down. Trying to climb to it would be a simple way to do so.”

“I rarely complained when you tore my weaving while we were broodlings”—Ketahn pulled himself out of the nest, trailing one of his rear legs behind to stroke across Ivy’s knee—“but I will not allow you to destroy my home.”

Ivy’s sweet, exotic scent clung to the fine hairs of his leg, a thrilling reminder of what he had to protect. Fortunately, the surprise of Ahnset’s arrival had been enough to jar him from the desires that had nearly consumed him only moments ago.

Ahnset chittered. “You will always have a home in Takarahl.”

Ketahn hissed dismissively as he crossed onto the web, traversing it as quickly and smoothly as possible. After climbing down a tree and following a couple intersecting branches, he was standing in front of Ahnset, and whatever annoyed comment he might’ve made about living in the city had died well before he could give it voice.

Ahnset shifted close, and the two tipped their foreheads together. Ketahn hooked his forelegs around hers and released a slow breath. Her familiar scent was soothing, but he wanted only more of Ivy’s fragrance.

“You thought to avoid me?” Ahnset asked.

Only now that her mandibles were so close did he notice the gold band around the right one—it was new. “Never, broodsister.”

She withdrew from him, standing straight to glare down in that stern Queen’s Fang posture.

Ketahn could only chitter again. “Are we here as a Fang and a common hunter, or as brood siblings?”

“Duty says it should be the former.” Her shoulders relaxed, and her mandibles fell. “Yet I have come as your broodsister only. I fear you will not believe that soon enough, but it is true.”

Ketahn’s insides twisted, and he found himself battling an urge to look back up at his den. The only duty to which he was bound in that moment was his duty to Ivy—to provide for her, to teach her, to protect her. To hide her. She was for him and no one else, and he refused to take even the slightest risk of revealing her.

So he tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and ignored the hot, itchy sensation sparking across his back that begged him to just turn around. “If you say it is true, I believe it. What dire matter has brought you here, Ahnset?”

Her eyes softened, and she released a tired trill. She sank down so she was closer to his eye level again. “My concern for my broodbrother, who will not like what I intend to say.”

“It is about her.” As those words left his mouth, Ketahn felt suddenly cold and hollow, a stark change from how he’d felt a few heartbeats before.

Ahnset scraped the tip of her foreleg across the bark. “Yes.”

Ketahn curled his hands into fists, squeezed tight, and relaxed them. He repeated those motions several times before speaking again. “Then you need say no more. We may simply be brood siblings and act as though nothing exists but the two of us and the Tangle.”

Not that Ketahn could accomplish that—he could not forget Ivy. Just the thought of it made him feel ill.

Ahnset chittered softly, almost sadly, and bumped her foreleg against his. “There are times I wish that was true, Ketahn. But we know it cannot be, and the Tangle cannot hide us from our duties.”

Drawing in a deep breath—more aware of the absence of Ivy’s scent than the smells that were on the air—Ketahn dipped his chin and gestured for Ahnset to speak.

Her mandibles twitched, and her fine hairs bristled for the space of a heartbeat. “It is no secret that the queen wants you as her mate. By now, word has spread throughout Takarahl. I know you have long denied her, but…”

Ketahn’s breath caught in his lungs, building immense pressure in his chest. He might’ve expected this from most anyone else, and it would have been meaningless to him, but from Ahnset…

She met his gaze and held it. “You should accept her as your mate.”

He forced his weight onto his forelegs to keep them down, unwilling to express such rage and aggression to his broodsister, regardless of the chaos within him. “You have known me since we hatched, Ahnset,” he said, his voice measured but strained, “and though our paths split long ago, you know me still. So why? Why would you come all the way out here to say that to me?”

“Because I do not wish to see you suffer.” She leaned closer, flattening her forelegs against the sides of his. “Your resistance in this, Ketahn, it is…”

“Foolish?” he growled.

“In its way, yes,” she said gently. “Yet you are no fool, broodbrother. What male would not delight in the chance to become mate to our queen?”

“Any male but Durax,” Ketahn snapped, withdrawing from Ahnset. “Some of the males she has taken to her den carry the scars of her attention to this day.”

“None of them are you.” She stomped on the branch, producing a dull thump and sending a tremor through the wood. “There are no vrix in Takarahl who would make so strong a match as you and our queen. Your broodlings would be unrivaled, and your legacy would endure forever.”

“Is that meant to concern me, Ahnset? When have I ever shown interest in being sire to a brood? And what use have I for a legacy?”

“It would be to the honor of our mother and sire,” Ahnset replied in a small voice.

“By the Eight, Ahnset,” Ketahn said, voice raw, “we have both done much to honor our mother and sire. My mating Zurvashi would not do so.”

“How would it not?” She straightened, rising to her full height. “Zurvashi is the queen. There is no greater honor for a male than becoming her mate and being sire to her broods. And more than queen, she is strong, cunning, and bold. An unrivaled warrior. She has made Takarahl into a power feared in the Tangle. Few queens since Queen Takari herself have accomplished so much.”

Ketahn turned away from her, his every muscle tense, fire flowing through his veins. The itching just under his hide persisted, beckoning his gaze upward, urging him to look toward Ivy, to go to her. Because only with her had he been able to forget. Only with her had he been able to pretend everything else really was gone—or at least so far away it didn’t matter.

“I know your disputes with her,” Ahnset continued. “I lost as much as you, broodbrother. I feel the pain of those losses as heavily as you.”

“And yet you continue to serve her.”

“I look toward the future, Ketahn, not the past. We cannot unravel threads the Weaver has already woven, but we can yet affect what is to come. We can ensure the things to come are better than what has been.”

“You believe my mating with Zurvashi would make things better?”

“Accepting her…would be for the good of our city. For your own good.”

A choked, bitter sound burst from him. He looked at her over his shoulder. “For my good?”

“Yes. You would not need to remain out here, and I would not need to worry for you so often.”

Slowly, he turned to face her again. “You know I am here by choice, Ahnset.”

She lowered her chin and folded her arms across her chest. “A choice you made in guilt.”

“Guilt?” Ketahn strode forward, straightening his forelegs to push himself up to his brood sister’s eye level. “Guilt did not drive me from Takarahl, Ahnset, though I carry it still for every vrix slain under my lead. She drove me away. All the death was because of her.”

“The thornskulls would have grown more aggressive had she not acted.”

“Every vrix slain in that war died for roots, Ahnset.”

“Mender roots. For healing.”

Ketahn opened his mandibles wide and hissed. “To make dye for her blood-cursed cloth! To serve her vanity. Our friends, our mother and sire, our brothers and sisters. If not here in the Tangle, then in the tunnels, digging deeper and deeper without time to build supports because she needed more blackrock for her warriors and more gold and gems to ensure she shines the brightest, or in her silkworks, because her dye masters tried to perfect her beloved shade and poisoned two dozen weavers in the process.”

Ahnset stood firmly, though a sorrowful light had entered her eyes. “Zurvashi fought, too. She bled. All of us had to sacrifice, Ketahn.”

“Not because it was necessary, but because she demanded it. Because it served her greed and her desire for power. Her rule has brought only suffering.”

“You truly believe it all so terrible?”

Ketahn’s mandibles sagged, and he slowly lowered himself to his normal stance. “Yes. You have always seen things as they should be, Ahnset, rather than as they are.”

“I am not so blind as you believe. I see. I know she is not kind; I know she is not selfless. But Takarahl is secure because of her strength.”

“She made that war, Ahnset, and it was all for nothing. The suffering now…it is all for nothing.”

Ahnset placed a hand on Ketahn’s shoulder. “If that is true, broodbrother, it is only more reason to accept. As the queen’s mate, you could change things for everyone. You cannot do that as a hunter hiding in the jungle.”

Those words stung, but he did not allow himself to show it. Even if Zurvashi could be swayed, Ketahn knew the cost of doing so would be immense, and she was likely to bend good-intentioned suggestion into something to benefit only herself. “I cannot change life for anyone but myself. That is why I am here.”

“She wants you, Ketahn, as she has wanted nothing else in all the years I have served her.”

Ketahn took hold of Ahnset’s wrist and lifted her hand off his shoulder. “But I do not want her, Ahnset.”

He’d always known that, even before Zurvashi had turned her eyes toward him. Yes, the queen was strong, bold, and confident. She was clever, striking, and beautiful. She was even capable of humor. But those qualities had always been overshadowed by two others—her insatiable ambition and her cruelty.

Zurvashi was nothing like Ivy. Ivy was soft, warm of both body and demeanor. Her eyes were a more brilliant blue than the sky on the clearest of days, her hair was as fine as silk and lustrous as pale gold. Her laughter was high and musical, a delight to the ears, and her smile outshone the sun.

But the differences went far beyond the physical. Ivy’s humor held none of the maliciousness to which Zurvashi was prone. Her teasing was good-natured, reminding Ketahn of the way he and his friends jested with one another. Though Ivy was no stranger to anger, she never bent it toward cruelty and spitefulness, and she had the humility to eventually apologize when she knew she’d been wrong.

How could he not admire the strength at Ivy’s core, her determination and willpower? To Ketahn, Ivy was far more impressive for her perseverance because she lacked size and might.

And he wanted her. Regardless of their differences, he wanted Ivy. He wanted his little human.

He had a strange, sudden sense that he’d been trudging through life tangled in sticky webbing that had blinded him and restrained his movement—and that the webs had just been cut away.

Ahnset had been staring at him with open concern in her eyes, her mandibles moving erratically.

“You were in Moonfall when she summoned me to our mother’s hatching den,” he said. “You were right outside, Ahnset. Surely you overhead what happened.”

She averted her gaze, posture stiffening. “She has always been known to have her moods. Do not we all? And with the High Claiming so near and a city to rule…”

“You know my reasons, Ahnset. You have always known.” He slid his hand to the underside of her wrist and shifted it down, so their palms were touching. “My answer will not change.”

But his desires had, entirely without his will, and he could not ignore them.

His only interest—all his interest—was in Ivy.

Ivy had not realized how slowly Ketahn had spoken to her in his language until now, as she sat there listening to him and the newcomer. But her grasp on the vrix language had grown exponentially as the weeks had passed, and though she’d never be able to speak it well, she understood much of it.

This other vrix, who Ketahn called Ahnset, was trying to convince him to mate with the queen.

Tucking the sweat dampened hair at her temple behind her ears, Ivy eased onto her hands and slowly crawled to the entrance. Once there, she pinched a corner of the cloth and drew it aside, just enough to peer out.

She saw Ketahn first. His back was toward her, displaying those familiar violet and white markings along his back and hindquarters. And in front of him… Ivy’s eyes widened. She’d thought Ketahn was big and monstrous when she’d first seen him, but the other vrix was huge. He looked like a child compared to Ahnset. Ivy figured Ketahn was around seven feet tall in his normal standing position, and that meant Ahnset had to be at least nine and a half feet tall and a great deal heavier.

The newcomer’s body was decorated with beads, dyed silk, and golden jewelry—bracelets, rings, armbands, hair clasps, even a neck piece that looked like stacked bands of gold attached to a thick leather backing, like a gorget right out of medieval times. The vrix wore a wide belt around its waist from which dangled a swath of cloth that covered its pelvis—not that seeing it would’ve necessarily helped Ivy determine whether the creature was male or female. Ketahn wasn’t exactly a…a dangler.

But there were a few other differences between Ketahn and Ahnset apart from size that were immediately apparent. The larger vrix only had four legs, albeit thick, powerful ones, and there were no markings visible anywhere on its black hide.

Ivy didn’t know anything about the vrix’s culture or their home, Takarahl, but this vrix seemed important—and also meant something to Ketahn.

Ahnset had its hand over Ketahn’s; a curl of its fingers could’ve engulfed his entire hand completely.

“You know what will come, Ketahn,” said Ahnset. Its voice was huskier, but there was a hint of softness to it—like it was somehow in a higher register even though Ivy swore it was slightly deeper than Ketahn’s voice. Strange as it was, that quality seemed…feminine.

Was this vrix a female?

“I will be fine, Ahnset,” Ketahn replied.

Ahnset did close her hand around Ketahn’s now. “I do not want her anger turned onto you. I do not want to see her hurt you, or be kreshan to hurt you myself.”

“I will replace my own way, okari’kija.”

“It does not need to be like this. You can protect yourself if you sultirin to her.”

“I will never sultirin,” Ketahn said firmly.

“I cannot protect you from the queen, okari’ojan.” Ahnset lowered her hand and leaned down, tipping her headcrest against Ketahn’s. “I do not want to choose. Do not make me.”

“I am not asking you to.” Ketahn brushed his front leg against Ahnset’s.

Ivy’s brow furrowed, and her fingers squeezed the hanging cloth. Bitter heat rose from her belly, making her chest and throat tight. The interactions between the two vrix brimmed with familiarity and intimacy.

But why would a female who was sexually involved with Ketahn want him to mate with someone else? Perhaps they were lovers forced to keep their involvement secret from the queen?

There is no vrix I long to take as my nyleea.

Ivy shoved her jealousy aside. Ketahn had told her he didn’t have a mate.

What if he did, though?

What…what business would it be of hers? What would it matter to her?

Deep inside, she knew it would matter. It did matter.

“I…must return to Takarahl,” said Ahnset, straightening and pulling back from Ketahn. She pressed the sides of her forearms together and bowed her head. “I am sorry I did not come for pleasant reasons.”

“Whatever the reason, okari’kija, it is always good to see you.” Ketahn offered Ahnset a bow, making a gesture with his arms that Ivy could not see because of his position. “May the Eight see you back safely.”

Ahnset turned and started to move away from him, but stopped after a single stride. “Think upon it, Ketahn. If not for yourself, then for those who care about you.”

As Ketahn rose from his bow, he turned his head as though glancing over his shoulder. Ivy caught only a glimpse of his violet eyes before he faced forward again. He said nothing more, and Ahnset continued on her way, her heavy steps making the big branch shake.

As soon as she was out of sight, Ketahn spun around and looked directly at the nest.

Ivy gasped and flinched back, releasing the cloth. She cringed.

You will be still, silent, and out of sight.

One out of three wasn’t bad…right?

“I’m in so much trouble,” she muttered.

It wasn’t long before the nest was moving with that particular bounce that meant Ketahn was climbing along the web. Ivy backed away from the opening, sat down with her legs crossed, and placed her hands on her lap, resisting the impulse to wring the cloth of her shirt.

Claws scraped the exterior of the nest, moving closer and closer, until finally Ketahn’s hand slipped in through the opening to sweep the cloth aside. He met her gaze with narrowed eyes and held it as he entered the nest.

Ivy smiled wide, giving him as innocent a look as she could manage. “How was your…visit?”

He tilted his head and let the cloth fall back into place, making the nest just dark enough that his markings and eyes glowed faintly. “She did not see you, but you did not obey.”

She didn’t think now was a good time to explain the saying curiosity killed the cat; she was sure Ketahn wouldn’t take it very well. But his words confirmed her suspicion that the Ahnset was female.

“I was silent,” she said.

His eyes remained narrow, and his mandibles twitched upward slightly—an almost smile. “But you were not still, and you were not out of sight.”

“Ohhhh. I was supposed to do all three?” Ivy snapped her fingers. “Well, I guess I’ll remember that for next time.”

Ketahn chittered and lowered himself onto the floor in front of her, sliding a leg forward to brush along her shin. “It is good there may yet be a next time. If you had been seen…” He shook his head.

Did that mean other vrix might not be as kind as he’d been?

Okay, so maybe she should have listened. If Ketahn was worried, Ivy needed to be as well, and she had to take the necessary precautions.

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I was curious.” She ran her fingers over the leg touching her shin. Though covered in the same hide as the rest of him, Ketahn’s legs were harder—almost like antlers still covered in velvet—with soft, fine hairs covering them. “Who was that?”

“Ahnset.” His gaze dipped to her hand. “She is my okari’kija.”

“I don’t know those words.”

He braced his lower forearms on his leg joints and lifted his upper hands, running them back over his headcrest to comb his claws through his long, loose hair. “We have the same mother and father, and our eggs were laid and hatched at the same time. Our mother’s third—and last—okari, her last group of eggs.”

“Oh! Ahnset is your sister? Kija is sister?”

Ketahn nodded. “As you say.”

“But she’s so…big.”

“She is a female.”

Ivy’s brows creased. “Are all your females big then?”

“Yes. Ahnset is one of the most big, but they are all close.”

“And the queen?”

His mandibles twitched, and a faint but frustrated growl sounded in his chest. “She is more big than all.”

Ivy slid her hand farther along his leg, relishing the feel of his soft hairs beneath her palm as she eased closer to him. “Why would Ahnset push you to mate with the queen?”

Again, his attention shifted to her hand. “Because she does not want to see the queen hurt me if I say no.”

Frowning, Ivy settled down directly in front of Ketahn, leaned back into the curve of his lower arm, and looked up at him. “Hurt you more than the last time?”

Ketahn curled that arm around her, smoothing down her hair with his upper hand. “You do not need to worry, Ivy. I will replace a way.”

Ivy lowered her gaze, rested her hands on the forearm he’d wrapped around her, and stroked his skin. Faint scars marked his hide even there. She knew his life had been one of conflict and struggle, knew he’d hunted and worked hard every day, but she hadn’t realized he was out here to escape all he’d been through, or that he’d lost so much—so many.

“Have you ever been happy, Ketahn?” she asked.

The hand in her hair stilled, and his embrace tightened. “Yes,” he rumbled as his claws resumed combing through her hair. “I have known many happy days. But these last few eightdays have been my most happy.”

Ivy smiled and rested her head against his chest. “The days I’ve spent with you are my happiest, too.”