by CoraLee June
“Aren’t I?” I challenged. “Aren’t all of us?”
“If that’s the way you choose to see it. But I personally would have to disagree.”
I stared at him incredulously. “How? How can you deny it?”
“Power doesn’t make a monster. A monster makes himself.”
I shook my head, feeling irrationally angry. “You haven’t seen what I do. What my spider makes me do. As soon as someone...well, as soon as they enter me, I latch onto their essence and drain them dry. It’s vicious.”
“You have to feed,” he answered with an annoyingly calm tone. “Just because it’s a different way than you’re used to, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I’m fucking killing people,” I snapped. “Of course it’s wrong. And you’re delusional if you think otherwise.”
“I’m not talking about the end result. Obviously, that’s something you need to learn how to control if you can. But if you can control it, then simply feeding off of one’s essence wouldn’t make you a monster. It’s no different than feeding off of someone’s vein, right?”
I opened my mouth before closing it again like a gaping fish. Could I learn to control it? Could I learn to feed without killing them completely? The thought never crossed my mind. My spider was always in total control, draining until there was nothing left. But maybe he was right. Maybe I could cut it off.
“Let me give you some advice, from one monster to another,” he put in.
“Fine. What advice?”
“Stop fighting her,” he said simply.
I tensed at his words. “I can’t do that. She’s a demon. Wrong. Unnatural.”
“She’s a part of you,” he interrupted. “Whether you like it or not, you and your spider are joined together now. The sooner you stop fighting her, the sooner you can learn to work with her and control your new abilities.”
I looked down at my lap and picked at my dry, cracking cuticles.
“If you want to fight against Spector, you’re going to fail. Unless you embrace what you are and use it to your advantage,” he said firmly. “Stop treating your demon like a tumor you want to pluck out. Let her thrive inside of you, and you’ll thrive right along with her. She’ll make you stronger if you let her.”
I let his words sink in for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “Let’s see if you still feel that way in a couple more days. My spider is already hungry, and you’re the only person here,” I replied.
I expected fear or unease to cross his features, but instead I was greeted with a smile.
“I look forward to it, Widow.”
Chapter 7
I was fucking hungry. Starving. Ravenous. Dying. Again.
Just like when I first arrived at Spector, I couldn’t tell time in the tank. I wasn’t sure how many days had passed, but I knew I’d gone long enough between feedings that I felt hollowed from the inside out.
Tomb didn’t seem scared of me, despite the growing manic frenzy building in my chest. We spoke some, but the hunger was beginning to be too much. It took most of my concentration just to hold it and my spider at bay. Every once in a while, I’d realize that she’d come out, watching Tomb in her predatory way. She was fascinated by him. And just like with Crow, there was something else too. A deeper craving that went beyond the need to feed. It scared me.
“You don’t look so good,” Tomb said from his corner of the room.
He’d been doing push-ups for the past half hour, tempting me with his chiseled, sweaty body.
Every slick of sweat that dripped down his muscles made my tongue dart out to lick my lips. Every masculine grunt made me hold in a whimper. My spider wanted him. I wanted him. It was getting harder and harder to hold back.
“I’m fine,” I gritted, though my voice had taken on a feral quality I didn’t recognize.
It was difficult for me to associate nourishment with lust. I’d always craved orgasms and satisfaction, but I’d never needed them to survive. The desire I had for Tomb was a mixed up mess. I didn’t know where simple attraction and lust ended and my need to feed began. Did I just want him because I was hungry? Or was I getting hungrier because I wanted him?
I busied myself again by wrapping webs in small circles. It seemed innocent enough, but I was ready to slip them over my wrists at the first sign of my spider taking over. I’d sooner chain myself up than hurt him, although I wasn’t sure what good it would really do, since my webs seemed to follow my every whim. Still, it was worth a shot, and it gave me some semblance of hope. Knowing that I would snap and have zero control was a daunting thought.
Was this how my aunt felt during a frenzy? I was so fucking worried about her, and being in this tank left me to nothing but my thoughts. Thoughts about how she was doing. About the thundering hunger in my chest.
About Tomb...who was now doing sit-ups, showing off his abs.
I groaned and rubbed my hands down my face. “Can you please stop?” I asked him as he huffed out an exhale. His eyes flicked over to me, and he paused for a brief moment, but then he resumed.
Another drip of sweat trailed down his six pack. My mouth watered. “Fuck,” I cursed before turning to face the metal door locking us in.
“What’s wrong, Wid?” he asked, and I didn’t miss the teasing lilt in his rough voice.
“I need to get out of here,” I said, working faster to create thicker rope, praying that it would be strong enough to hold me.
“We aren’t getting out of here until they want us to,” he said before I heard him walk over and grab one of the water bottles. I couldn’t help but look over at him, watching as his throat bobbed with every gulp. His Adam’s apple, his dark stubble, his slick skin...it was erotic.
“Can’t you go all gargoyle and smash us the fuck out of here?” I demanded.
He shook his head. “Why do you think they put us in here? We’re buried under hundreds of feet of solid concrete and steel. If I bust through that door, it’ll collapse, and even if I could survive it, you couldn’t.”
I let out a frustrated growl and pulled at my hair. “What do they fucking want from us?” I yelled, my shrill voice echoing against the walls.
I was going to snap. I could feel my time running out.
It wasn’t until I felt his cold, marble-like skin against my back that I released the breath I was holding. “You’re starving, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, brushing my hair over my shoulder.
“I’m not,” I lied, hating myself a bit.
“You are,” he argued. “You need to feed. So feed from me.”
“No!” I said, shaking my head and closing my eyes against his tempting words. Why was he doing this to me?
“I want you to. Don’t overthink it,” Tomb whispered against the ridge of my ear.
I whirled around to face him, an incredulous expression on my face. “Don’t overthink it?” I asked, totally baffled by his attitude. “It’s all I can think about, and if you were smart, you’d be thinking about it too. Stay on your side of the tank, stop working out, and try to cover your cock for fuck’s sake.” I gestured at the growing length between us, then shoved at his chest.
He didn’t move an inch. “I don’t fear you, Widow,” he said in a husky voice.
“Why the fuck not? You should. You haven’t seen what I’m capable of, but I’ve told you. You should be screaming at them to let you out of here.”
Tomb tucked a strand of tangled red hair behind my ears. “How do you think it feels for them? When you drain their essence?”
His question caught me off guard. Images of all the men I’d killed flashed through my mind. “Why would you even ask that?” I asked in a shaky whisper. “I have no fucking idea. It’s not like my spider took a time out so I could interview them on how it felt being murdered.”
His cool hand cupped my jaw, and my spider preened beneath the surface. She wanted to surge forward. To claim his mouth and then the rest of his body. My shoulders shook, trying
to hold her back.
“Stop fighting her. Stop fighting your hunger. I want you to feed on me.”
I shook my head, suddenly terrified. I didn’t want to do this. At least the men I’d fucked and killed had been strangers. Tomb and I were anything but.
When I tried to flinch away from him, his hold tightened around my face. Infuriated, I slapped his hand away. “Stop it,” I snapped.
“Give in,” he retorted, his dark eyes shining like glass.
I shoved my fingers into my hair, tugging at the strands. His proximity, his naked body, the lust coming off of him...I couldn’t take it. “No. You don’t know what you’re asking, so just stop it!”
My spider was digging into me, burrowing deeper and deeper, pulling at the webbed strings of my control. She was like the puppeteer, and I was hanging by a single silken thread.
But Tomb wouldn’t back off.
He crowded me again despite the fact that I was pacing, trying to get away, trying to put distance between the spider’s domination and my shaky hold.
When I tried to turn around again, Tomb cut me off, forcing me to stop with him in front and the wall against my back. He leaned in closer until his lips were just inches away from mine. “I know exactly what I’m asking, Motley,” he replied, his gaze seeping into me.
I whimpered when he wrapped his large hand around my wrist.
“Do you understand?”
No. I didn’t understand a fucking thing. Not him, not myself, not how my life had changed so drastically.
But gods, he smelled good. Mouthwatering.
My spider hummed. My will wavered.
And then I was leaning in toward him against my better judgement.
“Kiss me,” my voice suddenly demanded.
Tomb crashed his lips to mine. His kiss was a delicious blend of cold and hot, melting me into his touch, his lips a perfect contradiction of supple warmth and unyielding marble.
“Take your fucking clothes off, Motley,” he said against my mouth.
I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to regain my restraint. “I can’t,” I said, even as I continued to nip at his lips. Yet every kiss felt like a death sentence. Every touch reminded me of what I’d become. That every time I fed, my spider took over, and I snuffed out another life.
But I was so hungry, and Tomb smelled more delicious than anything I’d ever encountered. Instead of me luring him, it was like his scent was luring me.
Terrified, I looked up at him with a wobbly lip. “Don’t let me do this,” I pleaded. “She wants you so badly. She’ll fuck you and drain you dry if you don’t help me stop this,” I admitted, hoping my bluntness would help him see reason. “She thinks you belong to her.”
But the gargoyle just smirked. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Pissed, I shoved at him again, but he still didn’t budge. “Stop it! This is serious, Tomb. She’s strong. Stronger than you. You’re just a fly in her web. You’re nothing to her. Just another weak meal.”
Lightning quick, he reached forward and gripped my ass in his strong hands, tugging me against him. My breath caught in surprise, and I held my breath, trying not to take in any more of his scent. His erection pressed against the juncture of my thighs, and I wanted to part them. It took everything in me to stay still and to keep my hands pressed against the wall.
“You know what I think?” he asked, his tone low and gravelly as he gave my ass another possessive squeeze. “I think my gargoyle likes your spider. And I think your spider has fucked enough weak flies.”
His hand moved up, slipping past my hem so that his bare hand was touching my skin. All I could think of was all the places I wanted his hands to rove.
His face slid closer to mine, and I took in a gasping breath, nearly moaning at the influx of his earthy musk. “And you know what else I think?”
My eyes fluttered closed, and my head turned up, like a flower trying to reach for the sun. “What?” I whispered.
His lips skimmed against my brow. “I think you and your spider need to be reminded that sex isn’t just a meal. And I think you’d like it if someone fucked you for a change, and fucked you hard.”
Holy shit.
My fangs dripped, my back arched, and my body quaked with arousal. Tomb’s hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse race.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said, making one more half-assed attempt to get him to stop. But if I was honest with myself, I didn’t know if I could stop anymore.
“There are worse things than death, Black Widow,” he replied ominously.
My eyes popped open, and I raked over his hard skin, noting every scar, every hard line that defined his time here at Spector.
“You need to feed. Take what I’m offering.”
And then it finally clicked. He wasn’t simply being reckless. He truly did want me to feed from him. “You want to die, don’t you?” I whispered.
The idea that this strong man had been beaten down so hard that he sought the final escape of death...it made me sick.
“I want to get out of Spector.” His unwavering tone held no room for arguing. “And feeding you? It would be the best way to go. So stop thinking. We can both give each other something here. You want to survive; I want a way out,” he murmured before lifting up the hem of my hospital gown.
I didn’t even try to stop him. I was losing my restraint. My spider was taking over, and I was letting her, because it wasn’t just her who craved him—it was me, too.
“What do you want, Motley?” he asked before he pulled the gown up and over my head, letting it fall to the ground. With his eyes locked on mine, he sunk to his knees, and I looked up at the ceiling, squeezing my eyes shut as he exhaled over my sensitive skin. I was slick with desire.
“To get out of here and have my life back.”
But he shook his head in reprobation. “Let me rephrase. I’m not speaking to Motley right now. What do you want, Black Widow?”
“I want to feed, and I want to come, motherfucker,” I growled, my voice dark.
“Good to know,” he smirked. “But not quite the answer I was looking for. Tell me what you really want.”
I shook my head and clamped my mouth shut, stopping her from being able to speak.
Tomb pinched me lightly on the ass. “I want to hear what she wants. I want you to face it. You’ll never survive Spector unless you accept yourself. So say it.”
Shame filled me up. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit it aloud.
“Say it, and I’ll reward you,” he promised before using his teeth to drag my cotton panties down my thighs.
My legs trembled, and a sigh shook out from my lips. “I don’t want to be hungry anymore,” I admitted.
He hummed in approval, and then his mouth descended on the point where my thighs met, and I felt a hot, smooth tongue sneak out and tease me. More breath whooshed out of me, and I had to lean against the wall for support.
“And how do you want to satisfy that hunger?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled as his lips started caressing their way up my leg.
I had to seriously concentrate in order to hear his words, since he was filling me with a strong haze of lust. All of my attention was focused on the direction of his mouth and how desperately I wanted him to lick over the place where I’d started to pulse.
“Umm…”
His hands trailed up my thighs, pulling my legs apart, his fingers clasping me firmly. “Answer me.”
Godsdamn, that authoritative tone almost made me whimper.
“By feeding,” I breathed out.
His mouth hovered right over my clit. I could feel his breath over it like it was a gentle touch. I had to resist the urge to grab him and shove him against me. If he had hair on his head, I would’ve had my fingers buried in the strands.
“And how do you feed, Black Widow?”
My attention and desire stuttered at the name. My eyes snapped down to his where he was looking up at me with
challenge. “Stop calling me that.”
“That’s who you are.”
I swallowed hard, clenching my teeth. “I know what you’re doing.”
He smirked. “Is that so?” he asked before lazily dragging a finger across my folds and making me bite down on my lip.
Anger seemed to latch onto my desire, fueling me with even more heat than before. “You want me to come to terms with it. To admit that I’m this...this thing.”
“Mmm. Tell me what you are,” he demanded.
“I’m a monster.”
I propelled off the wall and Tomb got to his feet and circled around me. He moved closer and closer until his chest was pressing against my back. He swept my red hair over my shoulder and grabbed the curve of my waist. “You’re not a monster. You’re the Black Widow. Your demon is not something to be feared or hated. Your demon makes you stronger. Now admit to me what it wants. What you want, and what you’re too afraid to say.”
“I want to fucking kill, okay?” I snapped, my voice piercing the tiny room. “All this damn spider wants right now is for you to fuck me hard and deep so that we can latch onto your essence and drain you dry while my fangs are buried so far in your throat all you can do is groan into my ear as you die.”
I was panting with the admission. Shame burning my face, lust still boiling in my gut. Hunger throbbing with my arousal.
“Mmm, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” he growled in my ear, and my pulse jumped when his hand on my waist started to travel down until he finally connected with my clit. My body flinched against him at the sudden pleasure, and my arm swung up to curl around his neck behind me.
“Fucking psychopathic gargoyle,” I said, but the words turned into more of a moan.
“At least I’ve accepted what I am,” he countered.
My moan turned into a squeal when I was suddenly lifted in the air and my center was planted against his mouth. My hands flew to his shoulders to balance myself, and the continuous stream of rambling and doubt in my head disappeared with each skilled strike of his tongue.
He lapped me up, gliding his tongue up and down my slit while easing my thigh over his shoulder so he could get a better taste. And fuck if it didn’t feel incredible.