Weaving Fate

by Octavia Kore

  And missed.

  With a soft huff of frustration, she reeled the length in and attempted again—and again and again. Pain lanced through her upper arm as she tried once more and she rolled her shoulder back and forth to stretch the overworked muscles.

  Come on, Clara. It’s right in front of you.

  Bottom lip caught between her teeth, Clara exhaled through her nose and tossed the rope. When the end cleared the top of the branch and swung back down in front of her, she allowed herself a half-second victory shimmy before getting back to business. Clara managed to tie the arbor knot despite her shaky fingers and then watched it slide up to settle against the branch as she pulled it tight. She’d hoped against hope that there might be some other way down, a ladder or even some sort of narrow staircase leading to the bottom, but she was out of luck and if she didn’t hurry, she’d be out of time as well.

  How the hell did the aliens manage to climb up and down? Even if she could get to the top of the treehouse where it seemed to be attached to the branch, Clara would need to be able to descend the massive trunk. She couldn’t even throw the lightweight rope without straining her muscles; there was no way she would be able to climb down the side of the tree.

  Clara untied the end of the rope from her wrist and tossed it over the edge, watching it fall toward the ground. Oh, God, this was fucking crazy, and it was about to get even worse. Without gloves, Clara was sure this wasn’t going to be pleasant, and she grimaced as she kneeled on the landing, dropping down onto her bottom so that her legs hung over the edge. She tucked it between her thighs and caught the rope with her feet, making sure she had it pinned between the top of one and the bottom of the other.

  Clutching the rope close to her body, Clara took a deep breath and scooted herself closer to the edge, whispering a silent prayer before she slipped off of the edge. Her muscles protested as she inched her way toward the ground, one hand moving below the other. The overly joyful voice of her camp counselor filled her mind, “Pull your knees up toward your chest, Clara! Don’t let your arms straighten as you come down. Thighs pressed tight!” How many times had they done this during those hot summer days at camp? This wasn’t all that different if she ignored the extreme height, the years that had passed, and the fact that she wasn’t at all as active and fit as she’d been as a teen.

  Don’t even think about how high up you are, Clara warned herself, keeping her eyes focused on her hands. Movement on the ground caught her eye at the same time as the now familiar growly language filled her mind. Her grip on the rope faltered, and Clara’s eyes went wide as she felt herself drop down at least a foot. Her muscles screamed as she squeezed her thighs together and her palms burned.

  “Shit!” Clara’s stomach twisted as she swayed. Her hands grappled with the rope and she struggled to steady herself before looking around for the alien who had distracted her. A shriek of surprise escaped her when a pair of hands closed around her arms and she was yanked up into the branches of the tree. Another set of hands twisted her around, and Clara glanced down in time to watch as fruit the alien must have been holding fell, bouncing off the branches below them before smashing open on the forest floor.

  Holy hell, that could have been her smashed at the base of the tree. When she turned back toward the fuzzy chest she was pressed against, Clara met her alien’s wide eyes. Although she’d had a hard time initially reading him, the fear on Mr. Big-Bad-and-Shifty’s face was apparent. He was speaking to her, his voice frantic as his upper hands lifted to cup her face. She imagined he was asking her what the hell she had been thinking, but she was so stunned by her fall and subsequent rescue that she couldn’t even form words.

  He shifted her in his arms, and she wrapped her own around his neck, holding on tight as he climbed back up the tree. When they were back inside the treehouse, her alien dropped to the floor, setting her away from him as his hands roamed over every inch of her body. Clara watched his mouth move as he frowned down at the red marks on her palms from where she’d slid down the rope. He brought them up to brush his lips over the injuries and Clara felt her breath catch at the gentle contact.

  “I’m okay,” she told him. Patches of black flesh appeared on his torso as his fur rippled, and he stood, dropping her hands as he gestured toward the barrier. “I get that you’re mad—” her alien gave her a ‘no shit’ look as he grumbled something in her mind. “But I had to try. The female pretty much told Layla she wasn’t safe here, and I’m not going to just sit around and wait for something to happen to my friend.”

  The male reared back, staring down at her. He spoke softly within her mind, shaking his head from side to side as if denying the accusation she presented. Layla wouldn’t have lied to her about what she heard, but was it possible her friend misunderstood?

  “The female, the one who was in here with me earlier, whatever she said to my friend made her believe that I was safe here, but she wasn’t. Is this true?”

  Once again, her alien shook his head. Clara rolled her lips between her teeth as she considered. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that he wouldn’t hurt either one of them, and there was only one way she knew how to assure herself of that. Looking down at her hands, Clara flexed her fingers. She’d used her gift with Nuzal after their crash landing to understand him better and to find out why he would have gone against his people to help them.

  “Would you let me try something? Could I… could I touch you for a moment?” she asked the male. He hesitated for a few seconds before kneeling in front of her, and when she gently cupped his face in her hands, all of the male’s eyes dropped closed on a sigh. Drawing in a deep breath, Clara shut her own eyes and allowed her mental walls to drop away, opening herself. As if he sensed what she was trying to do, the mental barrier in the alien male’s mind was swept away. Warmth surrounded her as images began to form.

  Like she’d done with Nuzal, Clara moved through her alien’s subconscious, catching glimpses of his thoughts, emotions, and memories. She experienced the way his heart raced whenever he looked at her, felt the sensation of her own skin as he touched her, and watched from his eyes as he slipped into the treehouse at night to lay close to her on the floor as she slept in what she referred to as her nest.

  Her alien was afraid of something or someone, and he’d come back every single night to keep watch just as he had that first night. Maybe she should find that unsettling, but the knowledge made her smile. She sifted through thousands of memories in seconds until she found one of Layla. The human woman was glaring at him, but Clara could feel nothing threatening coming from him, only curiosity and a sense of wariness. She saw her friend being fed and cared for, and it eased her worries some.

  She wanted to tell him it would be better if she could see Layla herself, but more images flashed before her and she couldn’t staunch the curiosity that coursed through her. The alien female stood in front of her alien, her large fuchsia eyes narrowed on his face as she spoke. Clara couldn’t understand the language, but she could tell from the female’s tone that she wasn’t pleased. Could this have been the yelling Layla heard the day she’d let the male touch her? Beneath his frustration, Clara felt a familial love for this female, like something one might feel for a sibling or maybe a cousin.

  Strong. Determined. Loyal.

  Not only did he love the female, he admired and respected her, and whatever she was saying to him brought with it a sense of shame, as if he’d done something wrong.

  “I don’t really understand why she’s upset,” she told him, frowning as she watched the female turn away.

  An image of herself on the rope appeared, and her stomach dropped as she saw the spectacle she’d created. The end of her rope was farther from the ground than she’d anticipated. Had she made it all the way down, she would have had at least a ten-foot drop waiting for her. Clara felt the male’s fear rip through her chest as he bolted up the tree, followed quickly by his relief the moment she was in his arms. The hurt, however, surprised her. Her at
tempted escape had upset him.

  “I just want to make sure Layla, the other human woman, is safe,” Clara whispered.

  Placing one hand over hers, the male projected the image of him hugging her after plucking her from the branch and the image of Layla in the treehouse. Hugging… Layla? Learning to use her abilities had been hard enough, but trying to interpret another being’s thoughts could be tricky. It was something she still struggled with, clearly, but Clara felt certain he was trying to tell her that Layla was safe, at least with him.

  Something brushed against her mind, an entity that was both unique and yet still a part of her alien. It was overpowering and demanding, enveloping her in its presence. The force of his mental barrier going back up pushed Clara from his mind and she gasped as her hands fell away from his face. She had questions, lots of them, but when Clara looked up at the male, she could tell he was struggling to contain whatever it was that she’d felt… and he was clearly losing. Black and white fur was giving way to more and more of the shimmering black flesh. The male’s face was pinched as if he were uncomfortable, and his chest rose and fell rapidly, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily.

  With a speed that made her head spin, Mr. Big-Bad-and-Shifty lifted Clara and staggered toward the opposite side of the room. Everything in the space was as it was when she left, baskets upended, discarded pieces of thread she’d deemed too small to be useful, but she couldn’t focus on any of that. The male whose arms she rested in had her full attention. She brushed the backs of her fingers against the ticking muscle in his jaw, not missing the tremor that worked through his limbs as he gently lowered her into her little pile of blankets and pillows.

  There were times when it was hard to tell where he was looking with those solid black eyes of his, but Clara could feel his gaze on her. The male lowered himself over her, forcing her back into the soft nest before he dropped his head and pressed his lips to hers. Maybe it was the adrenaline from her near-death experience, but Clara’s heart raced within her chest as he nipped at her lips. When his tongue slid over the spot where his teeth had nicked, her breath caught in her lungs, leaving her gasping. Clara’s body arched instinctively, seeking more contact.

  The last time they’d kissed hadn’t ended so well, and maybe she should be trying to get more answers out of Mr. Big-Bad-and-Shifty instead of making out with him, but she was having a hard time finding the strength and the will to push him away. His entire body vibrated with the force of what she assumed was a growl, and she felt her nipples pebble beneath the material of the suit she wore. Their tongues danced as he lifted her arms above her head, trapping them in one hand.

  You shouldn’t be doing this again, her mind warned. The last time you let this happen, the female got pissed and the male wouldn’t even speak to you for days. He felt ashamed. Shouldn’t that tell you something?

  It was kissing, not signing a marriage certificate. Sure, things had gotten messy last time, but now she knew the female wasn’t his mate, that they were somehow related. Maybe she still didn’t understand the shame he felt afterward, but there were many cultures on Earth that regarded sex as something taboo. Maybe that was how it was here?

  “Please…” she whispered when she felt him pull back. “Don’t go.” Clara’s alien gave her a tight-lipped smile as he stared down at her, and when she lifted her hands to pull him closer, she realized her wrists were once again bound. “Look, I’m not saying I’m not into this, but a little warning never hurt anyone.”

  He stood then, stumbling backward, his face pulled into a grimace as his remaining fur began to ripple. Clara tugged at the webbing and hissed as pain lanced through her arms. The skin on her wrists felt as if it were on fire. Out of all the times the female had bound her, even when she’d found it to be tighter than she liked, it had never hurt, never felt like it was searing her flesh. A moment later, a sense of calm settled over her, and Clara looked up just in time to watch as the male’s body jerked. He was shifting.

  The last time he’d done that, it had happened so fast that Clara hadn’t even known what was happening until it was over. Her stomach roiled as she watched his bones snap and his limbs twist. Fur gave way completely to black flesh, and she struggled to catch her breath as his face elongated. It couldn’t have taken him more than a handful of seconds to go from fuzzy spider-like alien to terrifying––yet adorable––hound who was two heads shy of being named Cerberus.

  “You didn’t eat me before,” Clara said, shifting in her nest as the beast approached. “Please don’t do it now.” His massive head lowered, and she felt the heat of his breath through the suit as he sniffed. Clara flinched when he reached her face, and a yelp of surprise escaped her when his long, wet tongue moved over her neck and cheek. A grin pulled at her lips as she wriggled, shoving at his muzzle. “Put the tongue away.” Massive paws landed on either side of her as the beast lowered his body, his chest settling on top of her legs as his head rested between her breasts. Clara was pinned to her nest.

  “Seriously?” she asked, her brow arching. “You’re really gonna plop down on top of me like this?”

  The beast huffed, blowing her hair away from her face, and Clara let her head fall back onto the pillows with a defeated sigh. The next few hours passed slowly, and she alternated between short naps and useless attempts to wriggle out from beneath him. Clara’s fingers trailed up and down the beast’s snout, and she found herself smiling at the way his eyes began to drift shut. The glowing beansprout-like protrusions on his head were far softer than she’d imagined, and as she tangled her fingers in them, she felt herself drifting off to sleep once more.

  Chapter 11

  Clara

  She woke with a start, her eyes flying open to see shadows move across the illuminated ceiling of the treehouse. It was early morning already, which meant she’d somehow managed to sleep through the night. The beast was gone, and in his place sat her alien. His face was turned up, and Clara felt his gaze move over her as she stretched her bound hands over her head, arching her back to work out the kink that had formed during the night. The male’s tails moved back and forth slowly, like a lazy house cat watching birds from the other side of a window.

  “Welcome back,” she quipped. A growl rumbled through her belly, and although she couldn’t hear it, Clara felt the vibrations and the sharp contraction of her empty stomach. She assumed the fruit he’d brought back yesterday was meant to be her dinner, but those were now smashed on the forest floor beneath them.

  The male eyed her midsection with a frown, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He pointed to her stomach and then her mouth, his head tilting in question. “Yes, I’m hungry,” she replied. Alien words slipped into her mind as he backed up, allowing her to roll onto her belly and wiggle to her knees inside the nest.

  “Layla?” Clara waited a moment for a response before trying again. “Layla. Are you awake?” No answer. It was possible her friend was asleep, but Clara wasn’t going to admit that, especially when she couldn’t suppress the anxiety that swirled within her at the silence.

  “I want to see Layla.” The male grimaced, turning away from her as he busied himself stacking the baskets and gathering up the threads on the floor. “I talked to her last night and she was scared. Whatever that female said to her made her feel unsafe, and now she’s not answering me. I’ll just keep trying to escape until you take me to her.”

  He froze with his back to her, but Clara could see his jaw clench when he moved to the side. Her fingers itched to brush over that ticking muscle that always appeared when he was around her. As he turned to face her, Clara prayed that he wouldn’t call her bluff. She really wasn’t up for more failed escape attempts.

  “Please? I’m worried, and I just want to make sure she’s all right. I’m also starving and there’s nothing here for me to eat.” Clara watched his shoulders slump a moment before he inclined his head. “Thank you.” She brought her hands to his chest as he kneeled, wrapping his arms around Clara’s body
as he lifted her from the nest. “I really do appreciate it.”

  Clara looped her arms around his neck, grimacing as the threads pressed into her wrists. They’d stopped burning within moments of him binding her, but his webbing still caused a good deal more discomfort than the female’s webbing had. Set on ignoring the throbbing in her wrists, Clara focused on the feel of her alien’s fur beneath her fingers as he stepped through the barrier and onto the narrow landing. Her rope still hung from the branch where she’d secured it, swaying in the breeze that moved through the trees.

  Holding her tight with his lower arms, the male leaped up onto the thick branch above them and she got her first look at how the treehouse was attached. It seemed to grow from the tree itself, secured to the branch by something akin to the stem of a fruit, only far thicker. The knowledge that she’d been literally hanging so far above the ground made her empty stomach tumble, and she pressed her eyes shut, not trusting herself to watch as they descended.

  Muscles rippled against her as they moved, and she imagined it took great strength to be able to climb up and down trees this size multiple times per day as he and the others had been doing. The breeze stirred her hair and caused his fur to brush across her face. Clara drew in the fresh air, and when his scent hit her, she suppressed an appreciative moan.

  He smelled of everything earthy, like the thick mist that covered the mountains at dawn, damp, moss covered logs, or the freshly cut pine trees one of her foster families used to chop down at Christmas time. It was a scent that brought comfort and familiarity, and Clara couldn’t resist pressing her face against his chest as he carefully moved down the tree.