★★

“My Aja.”

His patience was waning. He circled the well now, peering over the edge every so often, thankful for its secluded location. If anyone happened to see him—The Spider, the most cunning, the weaver of tales, keeper of all stories—a god—worked into a frenzy over a woman…

A human.

How had it come to pass that Sky Father would fate him to fall for a mortal—and repeatedly at that? It was as though in retaliation for his mischief through the ages, the Lord of All sought to challenge him with something he could neither predict nor control—to disrupt the chaotic order he had so carefully spun around himself to catch and maintain his desires. To satisfy his needs. Because of her, this human woman, he was vulnerable, his heart laid bare as he tried to understand what it was she needed, how best to serve her, knowing that regardless of what she was able to give in return, he wanted nothing more than to be in her presence.

So, he called.

And she, his Aja, refused to answer.

He inhaled sharply. Why had she not come?

He could sense her just over the threshold;

Could feel her body receiving his summons.

He could also feel her resistance.

His patience was waning. The young god curled his fingers into fists, his manicured nails breaking the skin of each palm as they shook. What could she be doing that would take precedence over their reunion? There was nothing on the other side that merited such a response—or lack thereof—so was she testing him? Was it a question of how desperately he ached to join with her? There were no words to describe how he longed to press his cheek to her crown and breathe in everything that made her whole and present.

He clenched his jaw.

Felt the blood rise with his temper.

It was not like him to break, but it was not like her to leave him waiting. His anakara print jacket fit as perfectly as it had when he picked it up from the dressmaker that morning, but suddenly he found it constricting. He tugged at the collar, considered cursing the man who had so painstakingly stitched it to his exact specifications—retribution for slighting a god—but somehow, through the fog of dejection, could see that his anger was misplaced.

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His breath stuck in his chest.

He wanted to kick the ground, but stopped himself—the velvet of his slippers did not clean easily, and, angry as he was, he could not let her see him covered in dirt and worked up into a frenzy. What good would it do, and had he not gone through all the effort of coordinating his suit and shoes and cane and curls to catch and hold her eye? He had to maintain the image she knew, the one she conjured in her mind when she thought of him, the one where he appeared in all his divinity—calm, resplendent, glorious perfection. He would not allow his temper to mar it.

Still, there was no reason a god should wait.

He peered over the well’s edge,

Took in the still water,

Adjusted his collar,

And dove.

Shaking,

Aja eased her legs

Into the pool at last.

Relief flowed up her veins,

And through her chest.

Into her mouth.

She gasped.

Something had her left ankle.

Pulled her from her perch,

And into the cool, refreshing blue.

It grasped her right ankle,

The left calf,

The other,

The left thigh,

The other.

It climbed up her body, pulled her deeper and deeper, fully submerged her, until finally, with the grip of a viper, it had her by the waist. Aja opened her mouth, releasing a muted bubble of shock.

He floated before her, a towering figure cloaked in sapphire.

A familiar face: copper with piercing mocha eyes.

His grip was like a vice,

His were eyes hard and fierce,

But as he held her to his chest,

Aja found she could breathe at last.

★★★

They stood on dry land. Neither was damp, it was as though the water had passed over their bodies without actually making contact. This was Anansi’s home; a different Earth, a different time, a different way of being. Georgia was an eternity away. The sun hung over the western sky, lighting a rust-colored brush and its scant vegetation: tall grass and twiggy trees housing carnivorous fowl and wild rodents along with creatures of myth and the occasional wandering spirit. Beyond the brush was a well-populated village, but immediately before Aja was a frustrated god who had yet to release her from his embrace.

“My Aja,” he said,

“Why do you torture me?

What could I have done?

I treat you well, eh?

I am gentle, eh?

Do you not lose

The ease of breathing when we are apart—

Or do I suffer alone?

Answer me, please.

Do I owe you an apology for some misdeed?

Tell me, Aja.

My Aja.”

She smiled.

Melodrama made for good stories.

“Anansi.”

His chest swelled at the sound of his name on her tongue.

“You couldn’t be more theatrical if you tried—and no, that isn’t a challenge.” She brushed his face with her fingertips. The concept of destiny was uncomfortable—were her life not so entangled with his, she would reject the notion altogether, and despite her concession that there might actually be some divine plan, Aja could not, would not, relinquish herself completely to the whims of gods. She was drawn to Anansi, but this was not her home, however much he begged her to stay. Her life dipped into both worlds, but her family was across the threshold, and so was her future—at least until graduation.

Anansi would not have the final say.

He was fortunate to be included at all.

Or so she wanted to believe.

The fact remained that owing to an ancient promise, she was The Bride of The Spider, and would be for every incarnation of her being.

Until the sun collapsed, and longer.