Weaving Fate

by Octavia Kore

  If these aliens really were like Earth spiders, then the animal hadn’t fought because it was already dying from whatever venom it’d been injected with. Clara tried to swallow past the growing lump in her throat, but when the female tore the orb open with her fangs and steam rose into the air, accompanied by the familiar scent of beefy broth, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  She was on her feet and in the bathroom just in time to empty what little there was in her stomach onto the bloom. A few minutes of dry heaving followed, and every time she thought she might be ready to return to the room, she imagined the little creature’s body dissolving—fur, bones, and teeth—into liquid and the nausea began anew.

  When she was finally able to drag herself away from the bloom and back into the main room of the treehouse, Clara watched through narrowed eyes as the female grinned. Her fur-covered shoulders shook with what Clara assumed was laughter.

  “That was pretty shitty of you,” Clara grumbled. “Is he your mate? Is that why you’re being so nasty to me?” The mirth faded from the female’s face, and Clara knew she must be trying to decide if she should acknowledge her or not. “The male you caught me with that day was your mate, yes?”

  The female’s eyes widened so dramatically that Clara might have found it funny under other circumstances. The tuft around her neck puffed up, and she shook her head frantically as her lip curled into a sneer. For the first time in days, Clara felt like she could breathe a little easier. If the male wasn’t her mate, then what had prompted her anger at finding them together? Was it xenophobia? Had they done something taboo?

  Clara didn’t get the chance to try and weasel more answers out of the female because a moment later, Mr. Big-Bad-and-Shifty stepped through the entrance of the treehouse, her dinner in one of his hands. His sharp fangs pierced the orb, and the moment Clara saw the steam rise, her stomach plummeted. She shook her head and stumbled backward, desperate not to get too close to the orb.

  Hell would freeze over before she willingly drank another liquefied forest critter.

  Chapter 9

  Zaheer

  “What did you do?” Zaheer asked, watching as the alien female scurried away from him.

  “Why do you assume I’ve done something?” Ivnalth raised an orb to her mouth and drank. “I came early to have a meal with her.”

  The way his female glared at Ivnalth told Zaheer his cousin wasn’t telling the whole truth. Over the last few days, he’d tried his best to prove to his pack, to his cousin, and to himself that he was still the Alpha they needed by limiting his time with the one being he actually wanted to be near. Zaheer left her in Ivnalth and Maylu’s care for the most part, but he’d been unwilling to give up mealtime with her. He took a step forward, and Clara shuffled to the side.

  “No! Don’t come over here!”

  Zaheer glanced sideways at his cousin and growled. What had she said to make his female act this way? “I will not hurt you, Aanih. Do not be afraid.”

  “Oh, goddess, you named it? At least it suits the creature.”

  His patience was already dangerously thin, and after days of no physical contact with Clara, he was in no mood to deal with her nastiness. Zaheer transferred the meal orb to his lower set of hands and crossed the room, his voice low as he murmured softly. “Annih, come here. Let me see you.” He knew she couldn’t understand his words, but his efforts to calm her paid off when she let out a shaky breath and allowed him to reach out and cup her face in his upper hands.

  Wide brown eyes stared up at him as Zaheer brushed his thumbs over the speckled skin of Clara’s cheeks. He’d brought her a meal every day, unable to stay away from her even when he knew he should, and she’d never fought him in this way. Zaheer lifted the orb up between them, but before he could even reach her lips, Clara’s hand shot out with remarkable speed, knocking the orb from his palm and sending the contents flying across the room.

  “Annih!” He frowned down at her, completely confused by her sudden unwillingness to eat.

  “If she is going to be ungrateful, then I say let her starve,” Ivnalth said.

  “I’m not eating that! I’d rather chew on roots than eat liquified animals,” Clara said, her angry gaze darting toward Ivnalth.

  “You’ve done something, Iv. She did not refuse the meals before.”

  Ivnalth shrugged. “I did nothing wrong, and I even went out of my way to spend time with her before you came.”

  “And what did you do during this time?” Zaheer questioned, doing his best to keep his breathing even.

  “I prepared my meal.”

  Something in his cousin’s tone made the fur on his neck stand up. I’d rather chew on roots than eat liquified animals. Was it seeing Ivnalth prepare her meal that had caused this reaction from his female?

  “How was I supposed to know that she would become ill from something as simple as preparing a meal? It’s a natural act.”

  “Natural for us, Ivnalth. Her species is different.”

  “Clearly.” His cousin narrowed her eyes on Clara. “Much too different.”

  “Get out.”

  Ivnalth’s shocked gaze cut back to Zaheer. “What?”

  “Leave. Now.”

  “This is not my fault,” Ivnalth protested. “I simply––”

  “I have no doubt you knew exactly what you were doing when you brought whatever animal you caught into this room. Go now before I lose what is left of my patience.”

  “This is unfair.” Ivnalth opened her mouth as if she were going to continue the argument, but the warning growl that resonated in the room had her snapping it shut. “I will see to the other female.”

  Zaheer watched as his cousin stepped through the membrane. The tension in his shoulders drained away when Clara’s fingers moved through the fur that covered his upper arms. After days of dealing with the priests dodging his inquiries regarding Tratek, along with Ivnalth’s snide remarks, this was the first time since nearly breaking his vows that he felt even remotely relaxed.

  He knew that his cousin acted out of fear for him and the rest of their pack because of what he’d done with this female, but he couldn’t continue on in this way. There was something about this alien that drew him in. She’d taken hold of some part of him and refused to let go and he couldn’t even find the strength to fight it.

  When she tilted her face up, Zaheer let his gaze wander over her features. Despite his obvious and unmistakable attraction toward her, he still had to admit she was one of the weirdest-looking creatures he’d ever come across. He should be repulsed by her and yet all he could think about was pressing his face into the crook of her neck, of putting his lips against hers like she’d shown him, and of tasting her as she writhed beneath him.

  Our tsa is nothing less than perfection, his guardian rumbled, pleased to be in the female’s presence once more.

  I cannot understand how you find this to be perfection, Zaheer said, unable to stop himself from stroking Clara’s face despite his words.

  You see her with your eyes and not with your heart, his guardian said. What do you think she sees when she looks at you?

  What did she see? He had never considered that Clara might find him just as strange, maybe even more so, as he found her. As a guardian, Zaheer spent very little time worrying over whether or not anyone found him attractive. He was the Alpha, and the only thing he’d ever cared about was being found worthy of that title by the pack. They needed him to be strong and capable, but lately, Zaheer felt as if he was letting them all down. Tratek had come to him with a problem and he’d turned him away.

  If something happened to the male, the guilt and shame Zaheer felt now would never go away. Most of the last week was spent searching his tribe’s territory for any sign of Tratek. He’d followed the fading bond as far as he could, but found nothing substantial. Zaheer grew more and more agitated every day that the answers eluded him.

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for everything you guys have done so far, but I’m s
tarving and I don’t think I can stomach the stuff you’ve been bringing me now that I’ve seen how it’s made.” When Zaheer’s expression remained impassive, Clara rolled her eyes and huffed. “I know you can understand what I’m saying. Mr. Creepy—umm, Maylu—he sort of gave you all away.”

  Why was he not surprised by that? Maylu was a fierce guardian, but a good liar he was not.

  “Don’t be mad at him though. He’s been really nice to me during his shifts,” Clara said, reaching up to run her hands over the fur on his chest.

  The contact sent a jolt of heat through him, and when her gaze met his, Zaheer could focus on nothing else. “You see her with your eyes and not your heart.” Zaheer wasn’t sure what to make of his guardian’s words.

  “Hello? Are you okay?”

  Clara’s voice trickled into his mind, cutting through the fog that had formed. This female was dangerous in ways he’d never thought to guard against before.

  “The group I was with—the people you took me from—we found fruit up in the trees. I could eat that instead. Gulzar said they were safe.”

  Zaheer remembered the nets they’d carried with them filled with the fruits and roots they’d gathered. Although these foods weren’t a normal part of their everyday diet, the Krunkeeli did seek them out on occasion.

  Collecting the fruit would please our tsa, his guardian whispered. Quickly.

  He shouldn’t care what pleased Clara, but he couldn’t find it within himself not to. Her pleasure, her wants, her needs… somehow all of these things had become important to him in the very short amount of time that he’d known her and despite what his common sense said, Zaheer desired to see her happy.

  “Behave yourself, Aanih. I will bring you something to eat.” Zaheer dipped his head to brush his lips over her cheeks and the rounded tip of her nose before dropping lower. When his lips touched hers, Clara made a soft, desperate sound that caused the muscles in his abdomen to tighten in anticipation. His body craved her, but he couldn’t allow himself to be drawn in right now. He tucked a silken strand of her hair behind her ear and stepped away.

  When he stepped through the membrane, the all too familiar sense of loss spread through him, seizing his limbs. It never lasted for more than a few moments after leaving Clara, but it was inconvenient all the same. The further from her he went, the more his stomach twisted, but this was also something he was becoming accustomed to dealing with.

  The forest within the Oparian tribe’s territory was filled with many different fruit trees, but not all of them came into season at the same time. Zaheer searched for the white bark of the iino, spotting one not far from the outpost. The lower branches were packed with fruit in varying shades of red, but these were not the ones he sought. High up near the very top sat the pinkest of them. Smooth bumps covered the skin, indicating that they were ripe and ready to be harvested.

  Zaheer leaped off the ground and hauled himself into the lower portion of the branches. His muscles burned as he moved, weaving his way higher and higher. When he reached the top where the bumpy pink fruit waited, Zaheer took a moment to absorb the quiet of the forest before reaching out to Tratek. He shared something unique with each of his pack members and the fact that this bond could easily be interfered with was disturbing.

  Were all of the bonds he shared with his pack in danger? If Tratek hadn’t gone on a mission as the priests insisted, then what had really happened to the male and how had someone stolen him right from under Zaheer’s nose? His webs reported nothing, and none of the other guardians who’d remained in the village the day he found Clara and the other female recalled seeing him.

  What if the priests are deceiving us? his guardian asked.

  What if they were? Tratek had come to Zaheer with concerns about them just before his disappearance. Were the priests still worthy of the guardians’ devotion, or were they harboring secrets? The question was so dangerous that Zaheer would never think to voice it. If Tratek did not return tomorrow and the strength of the bond remained so frail, he would have to consider widening his search perimeter.

  It was true that he and his pack members had been on missions that lasted as long as a week, but if he wasn’t with them, then he was kept informed via their bond. This lack of communication was certainly not normal.

  Zaheer grunted as he pulled himself up onto one of the bigger branches and reached out to pluck the pink fruit. He hadn’t thought to bring a gathering sack so he took only what he could carry before descending. Making one would take too long, and weaving those types of things wasn’t exactly in his skillset. Fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet when he dropped to the ground and started back toward the outpost. The cold season would be upon them soon. The first frost would sweep through the forest, putting many of the trees to sleep, while waking some of the others. It was his favorite season.

  Would she find the changing colors of the forest as beautiful and breathtaking as he always had? It shouldn’t matter what she thought, but it did, and Zaheer was exhausted from the effort it took to act as if he didn’t care.

  A cool breeze moved through the trees, and Zaheer crouched down, digging his fingers into the soil and scanning his webs for anything out of the ordinary. No sign of the outsiders remained, but just up ahead of him on the path, Maylu was waiting. His packmate paced back and forth, and Zaheer sighed before closing the distance between them.

  He did his best to tamp down his irritation, knowing the male was likely as worried about Tratek as much as he was, but Zaheer couldn’t help the way his tuft puffed up and his tails whipped back and forth behind him. “Do you need something, Maylu?”

  “Is there any word from Tratek?”

  “No.”

  Maylu’s brows drew together as he frowned. “Why have we not gone after him? Any of us would volunteer to search.” He cast an accusatory glance toward the outpost where Clara waited for Zaheer to return with her meal.

  His guardian bristled, jaw clenched and head bowed as he paced, ready to take the male to task for his behavior, but Zaheer didn’t blame him. The entire pack was feeling his agitation and worry that seeped into the bond. Tratek was their friend as well, and he understood their desire to see him returned safely to the pack.

  Zaheer was already taking risks by searching as far as he had in the last few days. If the priests knew, they could accuse him of disobedience and strip him of his authority. He could face banishment and even death. If Pumo saw fit to punish him in such a way, no one within the tribe would even think to go against him.

  “If I have not heard from him by tomorrow, then I will have to consider which course of action to take.”

  Chapter 10

  Clara

  Clara glanced up at the section of the wall that served as the entrance to the treehouse as she added onto the rope. There were still a few more baskets to strip threads from, but she’d been working on them slowly, hoping if she took her time the aliens might not notice they’d been tampered with.

  Guilt settled over her like a heavy shawl, pressing down on her shoulders until they sagged. She frowned down at her hands as she worked the thread between trembling fingers. Did she want to escape this treehouse? Absolutely. Did she want to escape her alien? Clara caught her lower lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. The thought of leaving here and never seeing the male again made her chest tighten painfully, but she wasn’t the only one being kept here.

  “Hey, Clara? You still there?”

  Clara blinked at the sound of Layla’s voice as it scattered her thoughts. “I’m here. Everything okay?”

  “The alien female was just in here talking up a storm. I’ve never heard her speak so much.”

  It seemed odd that after a week of purposeful silence around Layla that the female would suddenly have the desire to speak so freely. Maybe she was mad about Mr. Big-Bad-and-Shifty kicking her out of the treehouse and simply letting off steam? But why do that around Layla?

  “Did you understand anything she said?”

&
nbsp; “It was still a bit jumbled, but I think I’m starting to get a feel for it.”

  There was a prolonged silence and Clara fidgeted with the ends of the thread as she waited impatiently for her friend to respond. “Layla?”

  “Sorry, I’m just… Clara, I’m not sure if I understood her correctly or not. You’re still making that rope, right?”

  Clara frowned at the uncertainty in Layla’s voice. “Yes. What did she say? Are we safe?”

  “If what I heard is correct, then I think you’re pretty safe, but I have doubts about my own safety.” Clara’s heart began to race. “She’s mentioned the word ‘outsiders’ a few times. I think that’s what they call us. She said something about a group of outsiders gathering food. Maybe they’ve seen the others? What if they’re still here, Clara? If we can escape, we might be able to get back to them.”

  Were the others really out there, still stuck on this planet? It was crazy for her to feel this reluctance to leave her alien, wasn’t it? She hardly knew him and couldn’t even properly communicate with him, but she felt something when she was with him, something unexplainable. As crazy as it sounded, Clara wanted to stay with her alien, but she owed it to Layla to at least try to find them, didn’t she?

  Pushing herself to her feet, Clara grabbed the coil of rope she’d made and stepped toward the entrance. No matter how many times she’d passed through the barrier to use the ‘bloom room’ as Layla liked to call it, Clara still felt a tremor of apprehension. When her suit-clad feet landed on the narrow ledge just outside the barrier, she exhaled and swallowed hard as she peered over the edge. The forest floor was so far below her, but she took in the long teal grass that grew at the base of the massive tree she was currently stuck in.

  Her heart raced within her chest, pounding out a frantic rhythm that made her feel like she’d just crossed the finish line of a marathon. In an attempt to distract herself from how high up she was, Clara looked around for a place to secure the end of the rope. There was nothing on the outside of the treehouse or the small landing suitable for it. She glanced up into the canopy above her and grinned when she caught sight of the low hanging branch that curved toward the side of the treehouse. After tying one end around her wrist so she didn’t drop it, Clara eyed the branch and threw the coiled end as hard as she could.