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Like he was a freaking horse.
I was just about to say “No way” when I realized nootherway was feasible.
“God-fucking-dammit,” I muttered to myself, and then waddled back and forth some, trying to figure out how I was even going to stand.
Then he scooted one of his legs very much closer to me. “No—ugh!” I said, flinging an arm out to push it away, but I couldn’t; the thing was rooted like a tree.
“Ugh-ugh-ugh,” I whined, wiping my hands off, like they’d touched something disgusting.
But they really hadn’t, I mean, I’d dated furrier guys before—just none of them had had any bug shells.
“Ugh,” I complained again, but then reached up for his nearest somewhat horizontal joint, hauling myself up like I was doing a pull-up until I was mostly upright. “My high school gym teacher would be so proud,” I muttered, as I stood there and caught my breath. After that, I could see the central zone where all his spider legs connected.
My biology teacher might not be half so proud of me, because whatever test I’d ever learned spider anatomy on, I’d flunked it.
Horseback riding made sense, but this?
Then he tilted his body dramatically, indicating that I should hurry the fuck up already.
I cursed again, and then threw my arms to his center’s far side.
My fingers caught on the lip of his carapace—carapace! Yes! That was a good word!—and then I tried to haul myself over. When I couldn’t, he bent one of his legs to help me, shoving me up by my butt.
“Hey!” I shouted, but I was finally aboard. He packed up the rest of his bag in silence, and put it across his chest in front, where I had been, so that there was room at his back now for me, then dimmed the lantern and carried it with one hand. I felt rather like I was in the middle of one of those playground spiders, that had all the jungle-gym legs everywhere, and it was walking beneath me.
I realized then that I wasn’t cold anymore—I’d been terrifically cold the entire time I’d been in the cage. The oneguy who was soft on me had given me a coat, but otherwise my captors had been assholes.
I didn’t know where that coat was now, however—I was wearing a sweater of some sort. It’d been a pretty white, before I’d gone and rolled on the ground with it. Now it was marred by streaks of dirt.
Spider-silk, I assumed.
It was so comfortable I hadn’t even realized it was on me.
And my hands were clean—which they hadn’t been—ever since I’d put them in Taisha’s blood when we’d all been running off the stage and I’d slipped and fallen?—
Memories of watching my best friends, fans, and crew mates getting gunned down—because of me, because of my dad’s stupid money—I clutched my hands at my stomach and whimpered. My spider instantly stopped, which was good, because a second later I was leaning over the edge of his shell, throwing up the goo he’d just fed me, until it splashed down by the claws at the end of his feet.
I stayed still for a moment, panting, wishing there was something that would erase the taste of acid from my tongue, and my memories from my mind.
“Take that, poison,” I said sarcastically, when the truth was if the spider-dude offered me ketamine—or anything else that might’ve helped me skip the next few days, months, or years of my life, knowing I’d gotten people killed just by virtue of being me—I would have taken it willingly.
Nine
NIA’N’AN
I hadno idea what possessed me to lie to my mate in our first interaction.
It felt like a betrayal of something sacred...up until I realized she wanted nothing to do with me.
By then I was relieved the translation device was broken.
I would have told Sloane all sorts of lovesick things without a second thought. It was bad enough I’d made the mating gesture at her with my hands, of two becoming one—thank the Great Mother she did not know what I had meant, because if she had, I would’ve only disgusted her further.
And then?
I gave her food that made her sick.
Her stomach was not as strong as I thought it was.
