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

Ivy closed her eyes and hummed as she tipped her head back and scrubbed her fingers through her wet hair. While the nath’jagol—which literally meant cleanleaf in Ketahn’s language—didn’t lather like shampoo or soap, it made a fizzy sound and sensation when in contact with water, similar to an activated bath bomb. She enjoyed its strong fragrance, which was a like blend of gardenia and lemon.

Water gently flowed around her hips, and the sun shone hot upon her skin. This day, like many others in the jungle, was warm and humid, but the stream was cool and refreshing. She enjoyed it every time Ketahn brought her here to drink, bathe, and lounge.

Tossing aside the remnants of the cleanleaf, Ivy drew in a deep breath and dipped under the water. She rinsed her hair before resurfacing. Smoothing her hands over her face and sweeping her hair back, she opened her eyes.

Her clothes—which were becoming quite worn—were already cleaned and laid out to dry on a large, flat rock that jutted out into the stream. It had taken a couple weeks, but she’d overcome her self-consciousness about her nudity around Ketahn. She was just as alien to him as he was to her, and whatever cultural standards of beauty they’d both been raised with couldn’t rightly apply to one another. Though he stared at her plenty when she was undressed, often quite intensely, he’d never given Ivy the sense that he was judging her.

But there was always something in his violet gaze, something deep, something smoldering, something…hungry. And whenever she saw it, her body intuitively reacted.

The fact that he didn’t wear any clothing had helped somewhat to ease her self-consciousness. She wasn’t about to go traipsing around the jungle naked, but times like this…it was okay. Of course, with as fast as her clothes were breaking down, it wouldn’t be long before she had no choice but to run around bare-assed. A couple more weeks, and her shirt and shorts would be little more than tattered rags so discolored that no one would ever be able to guess they’d once been pristine white.

Maybe she could convince Ketahn to let her cut some of his spare cloths to fashion a makeshift dress or something.

Next to her clothing was a small pile of cleanleaves from which she plucked another leaf. When Ketahn had first given her the plant, its long, thick, pointed leaves had reminded her of aloe vera, but these were spongier and more bulbous.

Breaking the thick leaf open down the center, she spread its sides and turned it over onto her arm. It immediately began to fizzle. She used it to wash her upper body.

Ivy turned her head and peeked at Ketahn over her shoulder. He was sitting atop a large rock—the vrix version of sitting, anyway, with his legs folded inward and his underside flat on the stone—as he rubbed some sort of oil into his hide with three of his four hands. In his fourth hand he held the clay jar containing the oil. His spirits had improved since he’d returned from Takarahl two days ago.

Her gaze followed his hands as they glided over his chest and abdomen, and she only turned her face away when those hands dipped toward his slit.

Her cheeks flushed, and something in her core warmed. Ivy’s curiosity hadn’t waned since she’d first felt something stir behind that slit. If anything, her curiosity had grown, especially when Ketahn held her against him during the nights. Nothing had occurred between them since that stormy night all those weeks ago, and he’d been extremely careful when handling her since. But that didn’t stop her body from yearning for touch.

Ivy squeezed her eyes shut.

His touch—she’d yearned for his touch. The touch of a spider creature.

Had her parents known about this, they undoubtedly would’ve tried to drown her in holy water.

She didn’t even know how to process her desire. His touch should’ve been wrong on so many levels, it should’ve been perverse, it should’ve disgusted her, it…

It felt right.

She opened her eyes and vigorously scrubbed the rest of her body. Ketahn’s touch shouldn’t have felt right. Every logical, reasonable part of her mind screamed wrong, wrong, wrong but that couldn’t silence the powerful, pervasive whisper.

That couldn’t silence the truth.

Ivy dipped into the water and rinsed off her skin, twisting to look back at Ketahn. Even after over a month with him, she was still figuring out his body language, was still piecing together the way his kind expressed themselves, but she knew something had been troubling him for the last couple days. She’d seen it in his stance, seen it in the way his mandibles twitched and fell.

Ivy sighed and walked toward the streambank.

Ketahn reached behind himself to rub oil on his back. As his hands worked their way toward the center of his back, he apparently reached the limits of his flexibility. He strained for a moment, jaw clenched, mandibles drawn together, and muscles bulging beneath his hide.

He let out a soft hiss as he shifted his arms to his front and settled his right hand over his left shoulder, rolling the joint and rubbing his hide as though in pain.

Frowning, Ivy stepped out of the water and onto the warm, dry rock of the bank. She picked up the large silk cloth waiting for her. Hurriedly, she dried herself off and wrapped the cloth around her body, tucking the corner between her breasts. “Are you okay?”

Ketahn turned his head and settled his gaze on her. Though his lack of irises and pupils made it hard to tell exactly where he was looking, she felt his eyes roving over her, she saw that intensity rekindle within them. But there was a hint of something else in his gaze now. Something…vulnerable.

“I cannot move as I used to,” he said, gesturing toward his back with one of his lower hands.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she approached him.

He bent his arm back, reaching in vain for the spot he’d missed. “I cannot touch.”

Ivy climbed onto the rock next to Ketahn and moved behind him. There was at least a foot long expanse of skin between his four shoulders that was untouched by the oil.

Ketahn looked at her over his shoulder.

She held her hand out. “I could do it for you.”

His eyes dropped to her hand, and his mandibles twitched. He twisted his torso to pass the jar to her. She took it and brought it to her nose, taking a sniff. The oil smelled earthy and woodsy, with a spicy mahogany undertone. She dabbed her finger into it and rubbed it between her finger and thumb. It wasn’t greasy, but smooth and satiny.

When she returned her attention to Ketahn, he was watching her, waiting.

“Did you hurt your shoulder?” she asked.

He tensed, legs drawing closer in toward his body, and she could see the fine hairs on them bristling, each like a ghostly silver thread in the sunlight.

Ivy frowned. “Is it part of the stuff you don’t want to talk about?”

Ketahn huffed and turned his head away from her, body relaxing. He was silent for a time before he finally spoke. “I was hurt by another vrix. Our jikarai.”

“Jikarai?” Ivy eased closer. With the way he was sitting and the position of his legs, she’d have to lean against him to reach the spot on his back, though it would still be with some difficulty. Unless…

Bracing a hand on one of Ketahn’s knee joints, Ivy threw her leg over his hindquarters and climbed onto him.

Ketahn stiffened, legs unfurling slightly. “What are you doing, Ivy?”

She caught herself with a hand on his back as his movement pitched her forward. She’d never ridden a horse before, but she imagined this was a similar experience. The corner of her mouth curled up. She was bareback riding an arachnotaur.

Ivy shifted, scooting her ass backward a little. The backs of her thighs rasped over his thick hide. Water dripped from her wet hair, running down her back to be absorbed by the silk towel wrapped around her. “It’s so I can reach better. Are you…okay with this?”

He dipped his chin in a curt nod and settled down.

“You can trust me, Ketahn,” Ivy said.

“I know, Ivy.” He rolled his injured shoulder again before crossing his arms over his chest, making the hide on his back taut.

Her eyes settled on his back. The large marking there was solid purple outlined in a strip of white, its pattern swelling and shrinking in smooth curves as it led down his back and across his hindquarters. There were scars here, just like there were on his chest, arms, and legs, though these were fewer. Some looked as though they’d been inflicted by claws, some by blades, but all were old and faded.

“So what is a Jikarai?” she asked, pouring some oil onto her palm.

“Jikarai is…one who leads. The one who leads Takarahl. A strong female who controls everything.”

“Oh! Like a queen.” Ivy placed her hand between his shoulders and began massaging the oil into his hide. “Is it only the queen who leads?”

“Yes. She has killed all those who have tried to take her place.”

Ivy frowned as she moved her hand higher. “Did…you try to take her place?”

Ketahn hunched forward, pressing his back more firmly against her hand. “No. No male has ever led the vrix, and I do not want her place. But she…she wants me.”

Her hand stilled. “Wants you?”

“She wants me as her luveen. So she may mother a okari. So she may have eggs.”

Ivy hadn’t yet learned those two words, but she could infer the meaning of one of them. Luveen… Mate. The queen of the vrix wanted Ketahn to be her mate.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she resumed massaging the oil into his back, unable to help the sudden flash of jealousy that struck her. She had no right to feel jealous. Ivy was a human, and Ketahn… Ketahn was other. He was a vrix, as was his queen.

“I told her no,” Ketahn continued, “as I have many times for years. She was…not happy.”

Ivy drew back and lowered her hand, eyebrows rising. “You don’t want the queen?”

“She has made much death.” He glanced at Ivy over his shoulder with four of his eyes. “I have lost much because of her. Takarahl has lost much. But her strength is great, and she does not fear its use.”

“So she hurt you,” Ivy said softly.

“It is a small hurt.” One of his legs brushed against her calf. “I am still a strong male.”

His fine hairs were soft, and his touch sent a thrill up her leg to her core, making it clench. Trying to ignore the sensation, she poured more of the oil onto her palm and tucked the jar between her thighs. This time, she brought both hands to his back, pressing her fingers and the heels of her palms into his hide to massage his muscles and rub the oil in as she worked her way up.

“Is that why she wants you? Are you…the strongest?” she asked.

Ketahn made an appreciative sound that was between a groan and a growl. His remaining tension melted away beneath Ivy’s touch. “Yes.”

That was it—no hesitation, no doubt, and, somehow, no arrogance. Just a simple statement of fact.

“I see,” Ivy said, tilting her head. Her hands reached the spot between his upper shoulders. “Is…there another female you’re wanting as your mate?”

He made another of those pleased sounds, which rumbled into her through every place their bodies were touching. “There is no vrix I long to take as my nyleea.”

Hooking her ankles over his legs, she tightened her legs and dragged herself closer to his torso. The action caused her bare sex to slide over his hide. Her breath hitched.

“Oh,” she said a little breathlessly. Ivy brought her hands up to his injured shoulder and kneaded the joint and the muscles around it. “And nyleea also means mate?”

“Yes,” he purred. “Luveen is male, nyleea is female.”

“Nyleea sounds pretty.”

Ketahn was silent and mostly still, but his stillness only made Ivy more aware of his every tiny movement. The twitch of his mandibles, the faint tremors occasionally coursing through his arms, the slight shifts of his legs, which made those tiny hairs brush against her skin. And she could not ignore his heat—it seemed to intensify with each moment, like her touch was feeding fuel into the fire at his core.

Ivy leaned forward, pressing her chest to his back as she looked at him from the side. “How does your shoulder feel now?”

“Much gooder.”

“Much better,” she corrected with a chuckle. “You were close.”

He grunted, his body vibrating against hers. “Your language is difficult for no reason.”

She plucked up the jar and held it out to him. “I know. It can be confusing. But you’ve grasped it really well.”

Ketahn accepted the jar and placed the lid atop it, which he tied in place with a silken string. “And you speak my language well, also, for someone who cannot make the right sounds.”

“Like zirkita?” she said, trying to force that higher-pitched buzzing sound out of her throat for the word dirt, and failing.

He chittered. “Zirkeeta. That is what you mean to say.”

“Well, it sounds pretty similar to me. Zirkita.”

Ketahn chittered again and repeated the word, putting the emphasis on that buzzing sound in the second syllable. “You are saying something very different, and the two things do not go together.”

Ivy snorted. “And you say my language is hard. And stop laughing at me.” She caught the end of his hair and gave it a gentle tug.

“It is as you say—I am laughing with you.”

“Ha! See, you still have trouble with the f sound, so don’t get onto me about pronunciation.” She smiled. Lowering her legs from Ketahn’s, she carefully climbed off him, taking his offered hand when he held it out for her. Once she was standing, she made to pull her hand away, but he held it a little longer, as though hesitant to let go. Her gaze met his.

There was fire in his eyes. Deep, meaningful, and powerful, it spoke of a passion that transcended appearance, language, and culture, of a connection that people only dreamt of finding on this world or any other.

Finally, he released her, and Ivy drew her hand to her chest, making sure her makeshift towel was secure before she sat down on the rock beside him with her legs crossed.

“So what does zirkita mean then?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed, and that fire was replaced with humor. Those deadly mandibles lifted to the sides in a smile. “It is a male’s…” He gestured toward his pelvis. “Spear.”

Ivy dropped her gaze to his slit and stared. Spear. His…spear. Her eyes widened and snapped back up to his. “Oh my God, all this time I’ve been saying cock?” She made a circle with her index finger and thumb and inserted her other index finger through it. “Your…your cock?”

Ketahn chittered again, the sound even deeper this time. “Not mine. Just cock. Zirkita.”

Her skin flushed, and she lightly slapped one of his legs. “Jerk. No wonder you laughed at me every time I said it. You could have told me.”

“I told you many times how to say it right, Ivy. And I knew what you meant.” He extended a hand, hooked a lock of her damp hair with his claw, and tucked it behind her ear. His gentle touch lingered as he brushed the pad of a finger over the shell of her ear. “There is no hurt.”

Ivy smiled up at him. “Only my pride.”

“I do not know that word. What have I hurt?” He twisted toward her, sweeping his eyes over her body as though searching for a wound.

She laughed as he picked up one of her arms and then the other, looking them over. “Not that kind of hurt.”

Ketahn tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Then what?”

“It’s…kind of like…kind of like how good you feel about yourself and the things you’ve done. And it can be hurt when something makes you question that feeling. Like…if I am proud of the baskets I wove and then you show me one of yours and how much better it is, that hurts my pride a little.”

His mandibles sagged, and he lowered her arms, though he did not release his hold on them. “I do not mean to hurt your pride, Ivy.”

Ivy turned her arms and drew them back enough to take his hands in hers. “It’s okay. Sometimes wounded pride is a good thing. It helps me learn to be better. And sometimes it can be done in fun”—she grinned wide—“like laughing at me while I say zirkita instead of zirkita.”

“You said cock both times again. Maybe we will not talk about dirt from now on?”

His chitters joined in with her laughter.

Their humor eased, and Ivy withdrew her hands with a soft smile, though Ketahn seemed reluctant to relinquish them. As she combed her fingers through her drying hair, gazing out over the stream with the sun shining down upon her, she found herself…happy. How bizarre was it to be stranded on an alien world with a spider creature for a companion and feel like this was the most content she’d been in her life? She had shelter, food, and a friend—she’d never had all three at any one time over the last seven years. This laughter between them…it was genuine and good natured.

And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder about the other colonists. She’d been friendly with several of the people she’d been training with thanks to spending twenty-four hours a day together going through classes, exams, safety seminars, and physical training. In time, those acquaintances could’ve become real friendships, but the rigorous schedule had made it difficult to really get to know one another.

Those people were out there somewhere—along with five thousand other colonists.

Were they still aboard the Somnium? Were they even still alive?

Was anyone going to ever come looking for them?

I might be the only one left.

“Ketahn?”

“Yes?”

Ivy turned her face toward him to find him already staring at her. “Where did you find me?”