Chapter 8 #2
She was close enough to touch him now, close enough to see the way his breathing had quickened.
“I don’t know what to say to you, to get you to believe me…
except that I…” She trailed off, the words catching in her throat.
What was she trying to say? That she loved him?
That she trusted him? That despite everything—the lies, the manipulation, the world-shattering consequences of their meeting—she had gotten out of bed because he wasn’t there?
That she was starting to loathe the thought of her life without him?
All of those things were true. But they were also complicated, tangled up in circumstances that defied easy categorization.
Instead of speaking, she reached out.
Her hand hovered just inches from his chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. This close, she could see that the chitinous sections weren't hard like armor at all, but had a subtle flexibility that spoke of something soft.
“May I?” she asked softly.
For a moment, he didn't answer. His multiple eyes were fixed on her face, searching for something—doubt, perhaps, or disgust, or the fear he likely expected to see there. After a long pause, he simply nodded once.
Her palm came to rest against his chest, directly over his heart. The skin beneath her touch was warm and surprisingly soft, with a texture that was neither fully human nor entirely alien. Kind of…peach-fuzz. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.
She could feel his pulse. “Your heart is racing.”
“I am terrified.” He frowned.
“Of what?”
“That you will realize what I am and remember that you should be running.” His voice was barely audible. “That this moment will end and you will look at me the way everyone else does—with horror and revulsion.”
Stepping close, she placed her other hand against his chest. She could feel the complex patterns of his breathing, the way his entire body seemed to be holding itself in careful stillness. “I’m not everyone else anymore, am I? And I'm not running.”
To prove her point, she stepped even closer, so much so that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. This close, surrounded by his presence, she should have felt overwhelmed. Instead, she felt…safe. Protected. More than that. She felt cherished.
Special.
Loved.
Something she had never been before in her entire life. Well, except by her mom.
Pushing away the melancholy thought, she focused on the moment. “You're warm.” Furrowing her brow, she chuckled. “I don't know why I expected you to be cold.”
“Everything about me is meant to inspire fear,” he replied. “And I am a spider. Cold would be more appropriate.”
“Maybe. But that's not what you are, is it? Not really.” Her hands began to move, exploring the texture of his skin. She couldn’t help it.
Her touch trailed down to his hip, to the line where fae and spider merged.
“You're not just a spider. You're just…Serrik. You’re one-of-a kind. It’s not your fault they only made one of you. That doesn’t make you a monster.
” Grinning, she couldn’t help herself. “That just makes you weird.”
Quietly, he chuckled. One of his hands—still with its long, sharp golden nails—came up to cover hers.
His touch was gentle, reverent, as if she were something precious that might break if handled too roughly.
“Ava…” There was so much emotion in that single word—gratitude, wonder, love, and something that might have been relief.
“Besides,” she added with a smile, “have you seen me lately? I'm not exactly normal anymore either. I’m a fellow freak, too.”
It was true. The merger had changed her in ways she was still discovering.
Her hair now had strands of silver. Her eyes had become a deeper green, shot through with golden flecks that caught the light.
The tattoos that marked her as the Weaver were in different places on her arm every time she woke up.
And a little voice in the back of her head told her that as time went on, and she got farther and farther away from her former life, she would become less and less recognizably human.
“You are magnificent.” He crooked a finger under her chin. “You are not a freak. Do not think that about yourself.”
She rose up on her tiptoes, bringing her face closer to his. “We make quite a pair, don't we?”
“Indeed we do.” His free hand came up to cup her face, his touch featherlight despite the sharp nails. “My beautiful, impossible Weaver.”
Something brushed her leg. It was one of the strange extra little claspers that were always twitching nervously in front of him. It seemed not sure as to what to do with itself, but very eager for whatever it was.
Serrik grimaced, and almost looked as though he were going to step away from her in shame, shifting his weight on his seven spider legs.
“No.” She placed her hand on his hip. “Don’t go.”
“I…” He looked worried. “Ava, I do not know if…if this is wise.”
“None of this has been wise since the start. Hasn’t stopped either of us.” Taking his hand in hers, she kissed his fingers before placing his palm back to her cheek.
“I may lose control.”
“Then lose it.”
Letting out a long, ragged sigh, he shut his eyes and bowed his head, his long, green hair falling along his face, veiling his features in green strands. “You will be the death of me.”
“Hopefully not.” She looked down and curiously poked one of the shorter, clasper-like legs between them. It twitched in response, before seemingly of its own accord, it hooked around behind her thigh and pulled her to him. The other followed suit.
They were remarkably strong. In fact, the strength in just those two legs alone…she didn’t know if she could wriggle away.
Her cheeks went warm at the idea of what else they could do. And at the idea of being trapped.
“Keep your heartbeat steady, if you can.” Serrik’s voice had grown gravely all of a sudden. “Lest we truly test my self control.”
He could feel her heartbeat. Or hear it. Or something. She supposed that wasn’t that much of a surprise. She took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a slow rush. “I should probably get more sleep before we…”
“It would be advisable.”
“Yeah.” She paused. “Advisable.” Boring. But advisable. “I…I did just want to say thank you.”
That earned her a dubious arch of an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For letting me see you. Really see you.” She turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. “For trusting me with this. I know you didn’t want to.”
His expression softened. “And I should thank you for not fleeing from me at your first opportunity. For seeing beauty where others see only nightmare, even if perhaps the Web is to blame for it. I am grateful all the same.”
They stood like that for a long moment, surrounded by the impossible architecture of their new world. Tomorrow would definitely bring something new and shitty and terrible into their world. Valroy, or some new world-ending nightmare, who knew.
But for now, there was only this—there was only them.
And for Ava, there was the growing certainty that whatever challenges lay ahead, she wouldn't face them alone.
She had her spider, and he had his Weaver.
And that, somehow, felt like enough to face anything.