The Mabon Feast (Wheel of the Year)

There were some things that transcended species, a lesson well learned in a place like Cambric Creek.
Not so different at all, Ladybug considered.

“Prepare for your feast night, little bug.”
Once the last of the water had drained from the tub, Anzan stood over her with the fluffiest towel from the linen closet, staring down at her bare form.
“Just as beautiful as the nights you sing your strange songs to the moon.”

He
had
been watching her.
A bubble of giddiness filled her chest, pushing the loneliness and grief aside, at least for the moment as she was lifted in his strong arms, the speed in which she was carried to her bedroom leaving her absolutely
certain
he’d been traipsing all about her house while she slept.
Her hair was plaited into intricate braids, criss-crossed and weaving, wrapped around her head and secured like a crown, a beautiful design she never would have been able to manage on her own.

“You’ll join me?”

His sharp nail was a cool pressure as he caressed her cheek once more, a pressure she leaned into, shivering beneath the weight of those eight, unblinking eyes before he inclined his head.

“If it would please you, my little bug.”

W
e give thanks to the
mother for her bounty.”

Athame, chalice, ring.
Apples and honey, sweet incense on the fire, crystals and elixirs charging in the bright white moonlight.
Ladybug breathed around tears as she stared up at the moon, full and luminous and ancient; stared up at the same moon that countless women like her had stared up at since time immemorial. The Aunts would be proud, she decided.

He stood behind her, tucked into the shadows of the makeshift covering on the flagstones.
The rain had come down earlier, but the sky was clear as she gazed up for a moment longer before joining her quiet companion.
Anzan was silent as she set the athame in its altar spot, arranging the key and the five-petaled vervain.
His many eyes had stayed locked on her form as she performed the ancient rights beneath the moon, watched when she’d slipped from her ceremonial robe to stand skyclad beneath the winking stars, watched as he’d watched her every month since the spring.
Now she smiled, lifting the chalice she’d been left by the Aunts, their mother’s before them, her mother’s before that.
Relics of the past that were her birthright, like her place beneath the moon.

The feast she’d prepared was small but hearty, the fragrant pumpkin soup overtaking, for the moment, the heady, musky aroma of the still-aroused araneaen beside her.

“Now what, little bug?”

“Now we eat.
Then you’ll need to make a web in the center of the yard, high enough to hold me .
.
.
is that something you can do?”

Anzan’s smile was sharp, the moonlight glinting off his fangs once more.

“I think I can manage that.”

“We’ll need to start planning our Samhain celebration soon.”
His smile remained as she reached to push a lock of shiny black hair from his face.

“It was me, you know.”
Ladybug wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to his absolute stillness, nor the sensation of his rippling eyes.
She took the opportunity to cut herself another slice of the apple tart, avoiding his heavy, weighted gaze.

“You?”

“Me.
It was me.
I’m the reason your heat was so .
.
.
hot.
I smelled you.
I wanted you.
But I didn’t know it was you!
I didn’t know I wanted
you
you.
I smelled you and I started dreaming of .
.
.
it doesn’t matter.
It was me.
I was the receptive female.
I think I would have smelled you from the other side of the world.”

The harvest moon made his blue eyes glitter,

The Mabon feast hadn’t been as lonely as she’d feared.
Ladybug yelped when he lifted her, strong hands at her waist picking her up as though she were a doll, his arachnid lower half raising, raising, until she felt half a story in the air.
Black eyes rippled, but his blue eyes had narrowed, a firm hand gripping her chin as he glowered.

“You?
You smelled me?”
She could smell him still, the primal scent of black musk and arousal, wondering how he might bind her that night.
“It took you long enough to let me know, little bug.”
His voice was a growl and her laughter was swallowed up by his mouth, sealing against hers in a kiss, the spark of his venom sweet on her tongue.