Ensnared: An Alien Romance Trilogy (The Spider’s Mate Book 1)
Ensnared: Chapter 12

Ivy’s breath hitched as she rocketed out of sleep, sitting up before her eyes were fully open. Cold sweat was beaded on her skin, and her heart was racing. The nest rocked wildly, making her stomach lurch, and the sounds of the howling wind and pouring rain outside were overpowered only by one other—a crash of thunder she felt right down to her bones.

The cloth covering the nest’s entrance blew inward as lightning briefly illuminated the jungle, casting everything in harsh, bluish light and impenetrable black shadows. Cold air flowed inside and swept around Ivy. She shivered.

Shifting, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, staring at the flapping cloth. Being in this confined space in the middle of a raging storm reminded her of something that had happened when she was nineteen and living in her car. She’d always hated storms—the downpours, the raging winds, the rolling thunder—and being in Kansas, there’d been plenty of them. But that time…

She’d seen the tornado. She’d watched it destroy the buildings around her like they were made of paper, had watched it tear massive trees out of the ground with roots still intact, had seen it fling cars aside like they were grains of rice. And it had been coming right toward her.

There’d been nowhere to go, no shelter to take. Ivy had done all she could—make sure her seatbelt was secure, pull her coat over her head, duck down, and pray. She’d prayed for the first time in three years as the wind blasted her car, as debris pelted the car’s exterior, as the vehicle rocked fiercely on its shocks.

She’d been desperately alone since her boyfriend had betrayed her and her parents had turned their backs on her, but never more so than in those moments as that tornado tore across the ground on its way to devour her.

Would anyone have cared if she’d died? Would anyone have even noticed?

Within a few seconds, not even prayer had been possible—the roar of the tornado had been too strong for her to hear her thoughts, the motions of the car too turbulent for her to feel anything in her heart but terror.

She’d screamed. She knew that much, even though she hadn’t been able to hear it in the cacophony.

And then she was suddenly aware of a great calm, of silence so complete that she’d wondered if she had gone deaf. Her throat had been raw, her eyes had burned, her muscles had been sore from tension, and her cheeks had been wet with spilled tears. She’d thought she had died. That was all that could explain that silence, that stillness.

When she’d finally found the courage to sit up and tug down her coat, she found herself in her car. The windows were peppered with cracks and chips, and the road just outside her door was covered in debris. Not fifty feet away lay a pile of shattered rubble that had been a four-unit apartment complex before she’d ducked down.

She’d survived. And the relief that flooded her at that realization had brought more tears to her eyes, a deluge of them. She’d cried even harder when she’d realized that sixteen-year-old Ivy would’ve thanked God for his mercy…but nineteen-year-old Ivy could only attribute it to blind, stupid luck. She’d known at that young age that the universe wasn’t about compassion and justice, but choices and chance.

And that most of it fell on the latter.

That had been six years ago already.

There was a sharp pang in her chest.

No, not six years. She only perceived it as that. There was no way of knowing how long she’d been in cryosleep—decades might’ve passed, for all she could tell. Everyone she’d once cared for…was probably gone.

Another boom of thunder rattled the nest. A high-pitched cry tore from her throat, and she hugged her legs tighter. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as a gust of wind rushed inside. No matter how many years had passed, her fear of storms was undiminished.

“Ivy?” Ketahn asked, his inhuman voice somehow cutting through the noise.

The sky lit up again, and her eyes fell upon Ketahn for an instant, focusing on the dull flashes of purple that were his markings and eyes. She ducked her head, burying her face against her knees as thunder shook the nest again.

“Come, Ivy,” Ketahn said. “I vill…kumeak. Ketahn am kumeakahl for Ivy.”

Ivy didn’t hesitate; she unraveled herself and crawled toward him. The nest swayed violently, and she stopped, clenching the furs between her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut, and pressing her lips together. Her heart leapt into her throat.

We’re going to fall. The webs and branches are going to break and we’re going to plummet to our deaths.

Strong hands slipped under her arms, and the long, hard sections of Ketahn’s lower legs hooked behind her thighs. He lifted her toward him smoothly, so strong and yet so gentle. She opened her eyes as he eased back and drew her atop him with her legs on either side of his hindquarters, which were facing up. His torso was upright, with his abdomen now against her chest, and he circled the small of her back with his lower arms.

Ivy watched him—little more than a shadow amidst shadows—reach aside and tuck down the flapping cloth so the opening was covered again. Darkness swallowed the nest.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around Ketahn and pressing herself closer to him.

But the dark had not persisted for more than a few heartbeats before Ketahn uncovered the crystal. The dim blue glow that filled the nest was a pale imitation of the flashes of lightning, but…it was comforting.

“Ivy oh-kay,” Ketahn purred; she felt his voice even more than she heard it. He reached up, feeling around for one of the baskets woven into the wall, until he pulled out a wadded cloth. It looked purplish in the light, but Ivy had the sense that wasn’t its true color.

Ketahn unfurled the cloth, spread it wide, and draped it over Ivy from behind like a blanket—which it was certainly large enough to be. The soft, silky material was cool at first, but it warmed quickly as Ketahn’s heat radiated into her.

He wrapped his upper arms around her, cocooning her in his hold, and leaned back against the wall, guiding Ivy to rest her upper body against his chest. A pair of his legs curled in to cover hers, their weight a comforting counter to the nest’s merciless shaking. Shifting a hand up, he slowly combed his fingers through her hair. His claws lightly grazed her scalp.

Another crash of thunder shook the nest, and Ivy tensed, her fingers digging into the thick hide of Ketahn’s back.

“Ivy oh-kay,” he purred again, one of his hands sliding down to curl around her hip. “Ketahn am kumeakahl for Ivy. Ivy no hurt.”

Kumeakahl. Did that mean…guardian, or protector?

Ivy forced herself to relax against him, to allow his heat to ease into her. She closed her eyes and focused on the gentle petting of Ketahn’s hand, on his arms and legs securely around her, on the steady rhythm of his hearts.

It was strange to lie against him like this, to feel so…safe, so comforted by a creature that had been a nightmare when she’d first seen him. But he held her like she mattered.

For the first time since waking up—for the first time in years—she didn’t feel so alone.

Ketahn had touched her over the last six days—he had to if she wanted to get in and out of the nest, and she sure as heck couldn’t climb trees and branches like him—but he’d not done so with the intimacy and boldness he’d displayed at the stream that other night. He’d seemed almost reserved since he’d pulled away from her just before her fingers would’ve touched his slit.

She knew now without a doubt that he’d told her not there.

Ivy didn’t know why; he’d touched her between the legs as though it had been of little consequence. He’d simply been curious about her body.

But his touch wasn’t something Ivy could forget. No matter how hard she tried to push the memory away, she recalled perfectly the feel of his thumbs stroking her nipples, of his rough yet gentle fingers caressing her sex, circling her clit.

She recalled perfectly how good it had felt.

It’d been years since anyone had touched her intimately. And to have been caressed by a spider creature, to have been brought to the verge of coming…

And here in the dark, with his arms and legs around her, his breath warm on the top of her head, and his hand stroking her hair, his alienness didn’t matter. All that mattered was the two of them, the comfort he gave her, the care and attention—all the things she had gone without for so, so long.

Ivy released a sigh and shifted, raising a knee to tuck her leg more comfortably around him and rubbing her cheek against his chest.

His hand slid down from her hip, and his fingers curled just beneath her backside, hitching her closer. Ivy’s breath caught. His fingertips were so close to her sex. Involuntarily, her core clenched, and arousal bloomed within her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the sensation, but it was too late. All she could think about was those fingers creeping higher and stroking her through her shorts, was Ketahn touching her as he’d done before, caressing her without any barriers, sliding through her wetness and bringing her to climax.

Ivy pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit it, hoping the pain would divert her thoughts.

It did not.

It’s because I’ve been so lonely. Because I’ve yearned for someone to hold me, to care for me. Because it’s been so long since…since anyone has touched me like that.

It’s because no one has ever touched me like that. With such…reverence.

But…but it was just a touch.

A touch in the darkness, where no one could see, where she could imagine him as anything, as anyone…

No. It was still wrong. He wasn’t human!

She shifted in an attempt to put distance between her ass and his hand, but only succeeded in grinding her pelvis against the ridges of his abdomen. A shudder coursed through her.

“Ivy…” Her name rumbled from Ketahn’s chest, deeper and stronger than the thunder, and his hold on her tightened. One of his legs slid along her backside, teasing the skin of her thighs with those fine hairs and coaxing another shudder from her. Not a moment later, she felt the claspers that were normally tucked against his pelvis slide forward to hook around her hips.

She turned her face into his chest, pressing her forehead against his hard hide. “I’m sorry. This is wrong. My thoughts are wicked and unnatural. Oh God, I am so depraved.”

“You be ahn’seiki, Ivy,” he said, his voice rough and thick. “It am zoruk saal gurashar. Ahn’zoruk.”

His claspers squeezed her closer still, until her skin was flush with his and she felt the slit between those limbs against her sex—and the hard thing pressing against it from underneath. The hard thing that seemed to long for freedom.

It had piqued her curiosity since that night at the stream. She should’ve been terrified when he’d restrained her, when he’d touched her. But part of her…liked it. Part of her wanted more. Part of her wanted to see what would emerge from that slit so she could wrap her hands around it, so she could replace out what it felt like.

So she could imagine what it would feel like inside her.

Oh God, I’m sick, sick, sick.

Ivy clenched her jaw and curled her nails into his hide. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ketahn, I don’t mean to—”

“Shh,” he hissed softly—a sound he’d learned from her a couple days ago. Though his body was always hard, it was even more tense than usual now, and his breathing was deep but ragged. “No sorry. Sleep.”

His arms held her more securely, and he produced a strange sound in his chest—one part purr, one part hum, all parts alien. But it was gentle, soothing, and oddly melodic.

Ivy turned her head to the side, listening to the music he was making, to his beating hearts, to the storm; soon her fear, desire, and shame were far off things. She was warm and safe, wrapped in a protective embrace. A soft sigh crept past her lips as she was lulled to sleep.

Ivy wasn’t home…but this was the closest she’d felt to it in years.