Ensnared: An Alien Romance Trilogy (The Spider’s Mate Book 1)
Ensnared: Chapter 5

Ketahn grasped a thick root with one hand, clamped another on the exposed rock overhead, and dug the tips of his legs into the dirt. With a final heave, he drew himself over the rim of the pit. The damp layer of fallen leaves beneath him was a welcome change; it was flat, for one thing.

He allowed himself a few moments to recover from the climb, though he only slightly relaxed his hold on Eight, who was cradled in his lower arms. He’d lashed some silk thread around their torsos to ensure she’d remain in place for at least a little while if he had sudden need to utilize his lower arms for something else.

His muscles burned, and it seemed there was no part of his body that did not ache now that the excitement of his discovery had cooled. The Tangle had battered him tonight, but it had surrendered a wondrous bounty—or at the very least an intriguing one.

Again, he reminded himself this was not the time to examine her. The pit had offered shelter from the Tangle’s many dangers, but now Ketahn and his little female were exposed. No matter how curious he was, no matter how weary and worn, he needed to return to his den with all possible haste.

He turned toward the pit, tipping his head back to look skyward.

The greater and lesser moons were nearing the far side of the break in the canopy now, well on their way toward moonfall. Each was a swollen orb, one silver, one pink, against the dark backdrop of the sky, their light hitting the pit in a wide beam that enhanced the shadows of the surrounding jungle.

With the direction of moonfall determined, he untied his spear from his bag, taking it firmly in hand, and delved into the Tangle with Eight.

Ketahn slowly worked his way higher. Remaining close to the ground would’ve been easier on his abused body, but the danger was always greater on the jungle floor—not merely due to predators, but harmful plants, deadfalls, hidden pits waiting to swallow up unsuspecting creatures, and patches of murky water and mud deep and hungry enough to trap even the strongest vrix.

His eyes dipped toward Eight briefly. How could anything like her ever have survived here? She couldn’t be more than a segment and a half tall; he doubted the top of her head would even reach his chest if she were standing on her two legs—if she could stand on them to begin with.

How could any creature balance itself on two legs? How could anything move with any speed or agility with a body like hers?

He’d not gone far before Eight stirred. Ketahn stilled, glancing down at her as she tensed and released a heavy breath. She made a soft, pained sound that produced the faintest of vibrations in her chest, but it didn’t have any of the buzzing or clicking that usually accompanied such sounds from vrix.

The thin strips of hair over her eyes drew closer together, forming a crease in her hide between them, and the corners of her mouth shifted back, pulling those bits of plump pink flesh taut. Her eyes squeezed tighter shut. Her nose holes—which were on the underside of an odd, fleshy protrusion that sloped down from between her eyes and ended at a point just above her mouth—flared wider.

Ketahn’s mandibles twitched, and he tilted his head.

Vrix could open and close their eyes and mouths, could raise and lower their mandibles, but otherwise the hide on their faces was firm and unmoving. It seemed every part of this creature’s face could move and change in some way. The result was as intriguing as it was unnerving.

Ketahn moved his free hand to her face and gently pressed the pad of his thumb to the fuller, bottom flesh around her mouth. The soft hide yielded to his touch, contouring itself to the shape of his finger until it flattened against the hard teeth hidden behind it.

Eight turned her face away, making her golden hair brush his forearm. His hide thrummed as though charged with thrilling energy from that delicate touch. Tiny beads of water had gathered on her skin on her upper chest and above her eyes. They reflected the moonlight in tiny points that made even the small, flickering stars overhead seem large and bright.

One of her elbows—surprisingly hard—braced against his chest and pushed. Her whole body twisted slightly so she was directed skyward. The fabric on her torso caught between their bodies, pulling tighter still over her chest mounds, enough so for Ketahn to see the outlines of their smaller, defined peaks.

“Mmph,” she said.

He attempted to reproduce the sound. It rumbled in his chest, but he knew immediately it was not the same. Mmm wasn’t a sound he’d heard from a vrix before, and he wasn’t sure how she’d produced it. And she’d ended it with a breathy noise—one that the spirit in the pit had used in some of its words.

Somewhere nearby, leaves shook, and a branch snapped. Ketahn turned his face away from Eight, seeking the source of the disturbance.

A large creature was prowling along one of the massive roots just a few segments below Ketahn, pushing through the vines and branches that grew nearby. Though the beast was mostly hidden in the shadows, Ketahn knew it simply by its size and the way it moved.

A grel. Its upper body was broad and powerful, with thick arms and long claws, its muscular neck leading to a blunt head that had jaws strong enough to rival a female vrix’s mandibles. Its four small eyes shone with tiny points of reflected moonlight.

The grel huffed and snorted, turning its head from side to side—and most of its upper body along with it—as it scanned its surroundings.

Ketahn held Eight closer to his chest and eased along the bough he was standing upon, moving into the deeper shadows near the trunk. Grels had poor senses of smell, so as long as he kept out of sight and quiet, he could avoid an unwanted encounter.

Eight shifted, making another mmm sound, this one more pained and troubled than the first.

The grel raised its head and snapped it toward Ketahn, its long, fleshy ears standing up.

Shaper, unmake me.

Bark crunched under the grel’s claws. The beast opened its jaws, baring its sharp, inward angled teeth—the sort of teeth that hooked in with a bite and didn’t let go. The grel’s growl was deep enough to make the air vibrate.

Though the grel did not likely stand any taller than Ketahn, it was far broader, and undoubtedly outweighed him by no small amount. He’d killed such creatures before, but their strength, speed, and toughness made them deadly predators, even to vrix.

Something slapped his chest. Ketahn angled his gaze toward the female to replace her hand pressed against him, its heat sinking into his hide. It sent a thrill through him. She was growing more restless, and those strips of hair above her eyes had fallen lower.

The grel would tear her apart in an instant if given the chance.

Ketahn raised his upper arms, forelegs, and mandibles, spreading them wide to make himself look as big as possible, and hissed.

The grel’s ears twitched and flattened, and the beast retreated half a step, making an uncertain, chuffing sound.

Eight stiffened in Ketahn’s arms. Her eyes fluttered open, calling his attention away from the immediate danger. Those eyes were, like the rest of her, strange. They rolled in their sockets for a moment, which was made disquieting by the white around their edges, before turning toward Ketahn.

He could only stare back. The whites of her eyes surrounded inner rings of blue, but the night was too dark for him to tell the exact shade. And within that blue were large, black circles, directed at Ketahn. Her eyelids opened wider, and the strips of hair over her eyes shot up.

Eight opened her mouth and screamed. The sound was high, piercing, and loud enough to echo between the trees and make Ketahn recoil and nearly lose his balance.

Ketahn hurriedly lowered one of his arms, clamping a hand over her mouth. Hot air blew against his palm as she continued to scream, but the sound was greatly diminished now—though its echoes lingered in his head.

She grabbed his wrist with one of her little hands and struggled in his grasp, kicking those odd legs and trying to pull her face away from him. He tightened his hold on her. For a creature so small and seemingly delicate, there was surprising strength in her resistance.

He glanced at the grel, turning his raised barbed spear toward the beast. The weapon was unlikely to fell the creature in one blow, but it could inflict a wound dire enough to make the grel flee.

But the grel had backed farther away, its ears now fully flattened along its thick neck and hulking shoulders. It had its head lowered, and its teeth were still bared.

Ketahn’s mandibles twitched, and he tilted his head. He looked briefly at Eight, who was still wide-eyed and thrashing, before returning his gaze to the grel. With a thoughtful chitter, Ketahn removed his hand from his female’s mouth.

She screamed even louder than before.

The grel scrambled back with a broken growl. Its rear legs lost their purchase, and the beast slipped, its front claws tearing gouges in the wood as it fell. Before it could recover, the grel shoved away from the root, crashed amidst the undergrowth below, and darted away. Snapping branches and huffing breaths marked its flight into the shelter of the Tangle’s nighttime shadows.

Ketahn had seen grels flee a few times, but he’d never seen one in such terror.

He lowered his hand toward Eight’s mouth again. She slapped and clawed at it, turning her head from side to side to evade his touch.

“Noh! Dohnt tuch mee!” Eight’s words were similar to those the spirit had used, but her voice was different. It was higher than the spirit’s, rougher, and it was filled with feeling. With…emotion.

He realized only then that her scent had changed subtly; it contained a sour hint of fear. If her screams hadn’t been enough to attract the attention of other predators in the Tangle—which they certainly had been—then the hint of fear in her smell would surely do so.

Using a bit more force, he pressed his palm over her mouth. She grasped his forearm with both hands, digging her blunt claws into his hide, but her grip caused him a flare of excitement rather than pain.

“Silence,” he said.

Eight stilled immediately but for her trembling and panting breaths, which made her shoulders and chest heave and blew the strands of her tousled hair up and down. Her eyes glistened as though filling with water, more of which had gathered on her pale skin, and the fabric of her upper garment was damp.

“Be silent, Eight.” Ketahn lowered his mandibles to look as unthreatening as possible. “Be calm. It is not safe for you to make so much noise.”

She stared at him, eyes wide and uncomprehending, and made more of her unfamiliar word-sounds against his palm. They made no more sense to him muffled than they had when she’d spoken unhindered.

Ketahn ground the tip of a foreleg against the tree bark. The journey ahead wasn’t a long one, but it was dangerous—even more so if she could not follow his instructions. Any creature that had spent more than a few days in the Tangle should have known to keep quiet, to stay high above the ground, to be alert.

Eight fell silent again. The passing time was marked only by the beating of Ketahn’s hearts as he waited for her to speak again, each moment intensifying both his curiosity about this little female and his urgency to reach the security of his den.

Slowly, he lifted his hand away from her mouth.

“Pleez, ay dohnt noe wut—”

With a huff, he covered her mouth again. “Be silent.”

She whimpered but didn’t fight him this time. He wasn’t sure if it was because she’d understood him or she’d exhausted herself, but he didn’t like it—just like he didn’t like the fear in her scent. She was trembling in his arms, faintly but noticeably.

Drawing in another breath, Ketahn removed his hand from her mouth again, halting it barely a finger’s length away.

Eight’s mouth opened, those plump pieces of flesh parting, and her pink tongue slipped out to trail across them. Ketahn’s arm tensed, ready to silence her again, but she simply drew that little tongue back into her mouth and pressed those plump bits together. She dipped and lifted her chin twice in quick succession.

That seemed like some sort of gesture…but what could it mean? Had she run her tongue around her mouthparts like that to signal her hunger?

He couldn’t ignore the possibility that her kind were cunning, deceptive predators of some sort…

Ketahn cast his questions to the back of his mind, where they could weave their own webs for a while. His fixation with this creature was dangerously distracting.

Holding her more snugly against his chest, he continued his journey. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around herself, and curled up. When she spoke again, he didn’t bother admonishing her; her voice was barely a whisper.

“Pleez bee uh dreem. Pleez bee uh dreem. Pleez…”

The significance of her speaking, even if her words had no meaning to Ketahn, struck him as he traveled. He’d never met a creature capable of speech apart from his kind. The Tangle’s beasts had their calls that communicated so much, but none of it was as intricate as the language spoken by the vrix…and Eight’s language seemed just as complex.

Not vrix, not animal, not spirit…what was she?

His.

If nothing else, she was his. He would unravel her mysteries one thread at a time if necessary. But he would not take her to Takarahl, would not bring her before the queen. He would not share her with anyone.

She remained in that position for the rest of their journey, trembling and tensing further as he climbed steadily higher. Her occasional whispers were too soft for him to make out, not that he would’ve understood them anyway, and the jungle was mostly quiet, leaving Ketahn far too much time to battle his thoughts and the endless questions dominating them.

When he finally neared his den, Ketahn was ready to collapse. It felt as though a hundred years had passed in the span of this single day, as though the events of the morning had happened in a different lifetime. He looked upon his den gratefully. It had taken him many eightdays to determine the best way to weave together all the silk, vines, and branches to make the den strong enough to remain in place and serve as a shelter. He’d destroyed his initial construction by failing to properly secure it to the supports.

But this den had hung for years near the Tangle’s leafy canopy, suspended by a wide silk web that fastened it to the surrounding boughs and spread its weight between them. Any creature unaccustomed to climbing vrix webbing was unlikely to reach it.

Ketahn did not hesitate to tie his barbed spear to his pack and climb the trunk leading up to the web; allowing his aching body even a moment’s rest would have rendered him unable to move until morning, at the very least. Eight made an abrupt, alarmed sound as her weight was forced against his chest, wrapped her arms around his middle, and held tight.

He chittered softly and took hold of the web with his upper hands. Eight’s alarm only increased as he released the tree and, hanging with his back toward the ground, crawled along the web toward the den at its center.

“Naht gunna luhk,” she whispered, raking his hide with her blunt claws. “Naht reel. Eetz naht reel. Oh gahd, aym gunna bee sik. Pleez bee uh dreem.”

“We are safe, Eight,” he said.

He’d meant to comfort her, but his words seemed to do the opposite; she clung to him, her body shaking. “Dohnt wanuh fahl. Dohnt wanuh bee eetun. Pleez dohnt eet mee.”

He held her more firmly as his den came within reach, but it wasn’t enough to prevent her screech as he latched onto the den’s exterior and turned upside down to move toward the entrance on its lower portion. The den bounced and swayed with his movement, but the supports were strong; it would not fall.

Her hair fell into his face, striking him with her fragrance all over again. A rumble sounded deep in his chest. Eight’s scent was as alluring as it was strange. It would be a welcome presence in his den.

Thankfully, she didn’t thrash or struggle, though she did keep speaking her meaningless language in a fast, panicked voice. She was still speaking as he pulled himself through the low opening on the side of the rounded den and entered the comforting, familiar darkness.

As soon as he had his legs braced on the floor, he reached up and removed the hide covering from the crystal he’d mounted amidst the woven branches, filling the space with a soft blue glow. The relief of being home was overwhelming—almost as strong as the relief he was about to experience when he finally let his body relax.

He removed the silk strand binding him and Eight together and gently placed her on the floor.

She scrambled back from him until she was pressed against the curve of the far wall, her legs drawn close to her body. Her eyes were wide, she looked far paler than when he’d first seen her, and the hair around her face was damp and sticking to her skin. “Oh mai gahd, pleez dohnt eet mee.”

That fear scent wafted from her; apparently, shelter and security was not enough to ease her terror.