Wicked Webs: Black Widow's Revenge

by Coralee June

  “That’s a good little fly,” I said with a fanged grin, releasing him.

  As soon as I let him go, Byron’s eyes fluttered, and then he started to shake.

  But it wasn’t a normal shaking. It wasn’t trembling or the way your body shivers when you have a chill. It wasn’t even like he was shaking from anger. It was almost like he was...flashing, except he was staying in one place. His body thrummed in hyper speeds, making him appear blurred. In a creepy display, his head began jolting left and right, and then different faces started to flash across his own.

  I gaped at him, caught between uneasiness and rising fear. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Seems you provoked his demon to come out,” Lowell answered, seemingly nonplussed.

  Oh shit.

  “What kind of demon is he?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. He’s a nightmare demon. He shows you your greatest fears when he feels threatened. Kind of a pointless demon, if you ask me,” he said, mumbling that last part.

  I turned back to Byron, realization hitting me like a slap when I took a moment to observe the faces appearing over his own features.

  They weren’t random people. They were my victims. Every single one of the nameless humans that Spector forced me to feed on.

  One by one, they zoomed before me, each of them gagged by my webs, their eyes lifeless and haunted. Some of them were crying out from when my fangs pierced their skin, others had dazed looks of lust in their expressions, their lips already blue.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Continue, Miss Coven. He won’t stop until his demon calms down. Use your pheromones if you must.”

  Dropping my eyes down to the floor, I took a deep breath and let my spider know I needed her. If I kept stalling, I had no doubt Spector would punish another hybrid. I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.

  Slowly, I was able to get a hold on my emotions enough to tamp them down and breathe. My spider sidled up beside me as if to bolster me, and along with her help, I forced my lust to rise to the surface.

  When I looked back up at Byron, the flashes of faces were still rotating, as if shuffling the deck of my greatest fear. I almost expected Byron’s demon to show me a mirrored reflection of myself. After all, my greatest fear was what I was capable of.

  But finally, he stopped flashing and settled on a face that I’d grown to know very well.

  Tomb.

  “Interesting,” I heard Lowell say at my back, making my stomach clench, my heartrate kicking up a notch as sweat slicked my palms.

  Byron’s entire body morphed to look like Tomb, all the way down to his rounded fingernails. And yet, it was off. What made Tomb...Tomb wasn’t quite there. The kind openness wasn’t in his gaze. The steady comfort of home I felt when he was near was absent. I felt no attachment to the scarred, beautiful man standing in front of me, and my spider certainly wasn’t interested. But my heart panged all the same.

  I pumped out more lust, subduing Byron’s demon and changing his emotions from anger to desire. He took a step closer to me, cocking his head to the side in order to study me. His hand came up, and bright joy filled his eyes when I let him stroke my cheek.

  Then my spider lashed out faster than a blink, wrapping a web around his wrist. She did not like that he was impersonating Tomb.

  Steady, girl.

  As much as I wanted to let her claw our nails down Byron’s face and force him to stop mimicking Tomb’s body, I couldn’t. Spector was just waiting to mete out punishments to us, and I couldn’t give them a reason to.

  I turned my back to find the real Tomb, and our eyes locked across the room. My spider instantly calmed. I stared at the angry gargoyle as Byron breathed down the back of my neck and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  My spider hissed at the touch, and that nausea inside of me flipped like pancakes in my stomach, landing with a heavy splat.

  We just need to feed, I told my spider. Just feed on the fucker, and then this can be done.

  She didn’t like it.

  Neither did I, but I knew we had to do this if we were going to leave this room. So with my eyes still locked on our real Tomb, I forced myself to hold still as Byron’s hand snaked over my stomach.

  We can do this, I chanted to myself.

  Byron’s hand moved lower, and I felt his erection press against my back. It was almost laughably puny. When I glanced down, the hand was Tomb’s. Dark skin, smatters of scars, rough hands that had held me before. But the touch wasn’t the same.

  Tears filled my eyes, and I squeezed them shut. Saliva rushed into my mouth—not in thirst, but revulsion. Oh gods, I couldn’t do this. I hated his touch. I was going to puke. I was going to—

  “Eyes on me, Wid.”

  My eyes flared open, landing on my gargoyle.

  He nodded at me across the room, helping me, trying to get me through this. Because Tomb knew the truth. He could fight, just as I could, and we might get a few good licks in. Maybe some of the others would even be brave enough to join in.

  But we weren’t stupid. We were newly made hybrids only weeks after our rebirth. This place was guarded by hundreds, maybe thousands of highly trained Spector employees, some of them probably hybrids themselves. We weren’t getting out of this room even if we fought. And if we did fight, it would be at the expense of the others. Which is exactly why Spector threatened them. Because they knew I wouldn’t willingly get anyone hurt.

  So instead, I forced myself to pretend like it was my Tomb holding me close, that it was him caressing my body. His hand snaked lower down my stomach, leaving hot trails of menacing heat in its wake. Hungry need filled me up.

  Skin brushed against my cheek, and I turned to face Byron’s demon, still expecting to see him impersonating Tomb, but I found violet eyes and shocking blue hair. He’d changed into Crow.

  Byron’s nightmare demon kept flashing between Crow’s and Tomb’s faces, showing me my greatest fear. Maybe to the others, it didn’t make sense, but I knew the truth. I wasn’t afraid of them. I was afraid to fall for these men that I could never have. I was afraid to hurt them. I was afraid that we’d never make it out of here.

  I snatched up Byron’s hand, my spider and I taking control. Then I shoved it down my pants and slipped the barest inch of his pinky inside of me.

  That was all it took.

  Yanking his hand away and pushing him back, I whirled around and yanked on his life’s tether that I now had access to. I’d expected it to feel more potent, but Byron’s essence was bland compared to how Tomb had been.

  I turned my head and sunk my teeth in his neck, sating my thirst at the same time. Byron’s demon caroused in the heady lust I was pumping into him. I devoured his life and his blood, not bothering to save a single drop.

  I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. The room was utterly quiet except for the sounds of Byron’s moans and my gulps.

  And then Byron started to struggle. Through the disorienting fervor of his desire, he probably realized that I was draining him of his most essential piece. But my spider wasn’t going to let him go. Not when she’d caught her prey so easily.

  We pulled and pulled, straining that tether of life as he moaned against the gag I’d created for him. My spider loved it. She loved the terror he was feeling as he began to unravel. She loved watching him realize that he was going to die, and the feeling of empowerment that kindled that. She loved that there was nothing he could do to stop her.

  She was a vengeful beast.

  And so was I.

  With one last vicious pull, we snapped the cord connecting us, smiling in satisfaction as we guzzled down the last of his essence. He dropped to the floor, his arm bent at an awkward angle, and I wiped his blood off my mouth with a swipe of my hand. As Byron lay at my feet lifelessly, it wasn’t Tomb’s or Crow’s face looking vacantly back at me, but his own.

  “Start the timer. I want to see how long the resurrection takes,” Lowell instructed, breaking the sp
ell of the room.

  I wasn’t ready to gain control yet or return to reality. I wasn’t ready to deal with the embarrassment or indignity of looking at my classmates and seeing the shock on their faces. I kept back, letting my demon celebrate her kill.

  “Black Widow, can you explain why the nightmare demon showed the hybrids Crow and Tomb? Why are you afraid of them?” Lowell asked me.

  She moved my legs, and we slowly walked over to Lowell. Before he could stop her, she plucked the coin from his pocket, brushing a predatory finger over his cock in the process. Lowell’s mouth parted in shock, and guards started stalking toward us, ready to defend the Spector scientist.

  The coin burned through the skin on my fingers. It was a searing discomfort, but it was nothing compared to the determination my spider felt. She held the coin up, showing him how unaffected she was, then pushed the coin to her cheek at the place where Byron’s demon skin had brushed against mine, as if to burn the feel of him away.

  “I fear nothing, little fly. I am fear,” my dark voice croaked.

  I dropped the coin, and it landed on the tiled floor and rolled away, the sound echoing through the room. Everyone’s eyes seemed to follow it. All except for three.

  My eyes locked on Tomb and Crow, and my spider grinned.

  Mates.

  The thought was so clear that I gasped. With that, she burrowed back inside of me, curling up in satisfaction, while I was left to stare at them wide-eyed as the realization of her word thrummed through me.

  It was then that I knew with certainty that Byron Wills would never wake up.

  Chapter 13

  The training room was tense.

  I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I struggled to do the moves that Oz was putting me through. His new favorite thing was to make me run until I puked up red-hot blood and then force me to shoot webs straight up to the ceiling and climb my way up the silken rope. I fell. A lot.

  I couldn’t ignore the fact that my body buzzed, though. Byron’s essence had sated me and my spider. Not as well as Tomb had, and he hadn’t tasted nearly as good, but drinking from him was still leaps and bounds better than drinking from humans.

  My fellow hybrids kept stealing looks at me, but unlike the way their stares had felt hostile or mocking while we’d been at Thibault, now it felt wary. They feared me.

  Maybe if I were different, I would take advantage of that. Use this opportunity to turn the tables and bully and torment them. But that wasn’t me, and I still wanted what I’d always wanted—to be accepted.

  My arms shook as hard as an earthquake while I struggled to heave myself up another few inches of the web rope. I hadn’t managed to make it to the top even once. Every time I fell onto the floor, Oz was there in my face, telling me to do it again.

  My whole body hurt, and sweat was pouring down my face, my red hair in a messy topknot at the crown of my head. The Spector shorts and tank top I wore were damp as well, and they did nothing to protect me from the rope—or web—burn I now had on my palms, arms, and legs.

  Just as I gripped the web to climb, using its stickiness to keep me suspended, my hands slipped, and I went falling down. Again.

  Right before I hit the mats, I threw my hands out and caught myself in a quick web that sent me bouncing on my back as I stared up and tried to catch my breath. That landing was way better than the mats.

  I barely stopped bouncing against my soft web before Oz was hovering over my face, scowling down at me. “No webs to catch yourself,” he reprimanded. “Now get up and do it again.”

  I shook my head. “I-I can’t,” I panted.

  My palms were bleeding, and my arms felt so weak I couldn’t even lift them up to wipe the sweat off my brow.

  But Oz was an unfeeling prick, so he looked down at me with utter derision. “I said get the fuck up, spider bitch.”

  My spider wanted to hand him his ass, but after hours of this, even she was feeling tired.

  It was all so ridiculous. Sometimes I wondered if Spector was really trying to build an army or if they just got off on feeling powerful. The guards were too aggressive. The conditions were unbearable, and I still hadn’t quite come to terms with what they made us do. I didn’t think I ever would.

  “Back off of her.”

  The voice defending me sounded like steel and home. I pushed myself up with wobbly hands and twisted my body to look at Tomb. He was covered in dust, like he’d spent hours chiseling rock.

  “Get back to your station,” Oz growled at Tomb before turning his attention back to me.

  I didn’t have time to prepare myself. One second, I was shaking with exhaustion and looking up at Oz, and the next, he was landing a swift kick to my gut.

  Searing pain shot through me as a surprised grunt of pain flew from my mouth. His steel-toed boot was hard and fast, making me coil in on myself and clutch my stomach. My spider rattled against my rib cage.

  “Get the fuck up!” he yelled once more at me, while placing his meaty hand on his holster.

  Everyone in the training room seemed to stop at once. They all stared unabashedly at us, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Tomb acted fast. He grabbed Oz by the neck, pulling him up. I tried scrambling to my feet, but I tripped over the side of the web and stumbled to the floor.

  “Don’t fucking touch her,” Tomb growled in Oz’s face. His skin rolled with change. Hard rock fought for dominance over flesh.

  “Excuse me? Get back to your fucking station, or it’ll be the tank for a month,” my trainer threatened, furious spit flying from his mouth. “You think that just because you’re immortal you have clout around here?”

  I was finally able to pull myself up, and I gravitated closer to Tomb, keeping my eyes on the brutal trainer clutched in the gargoyle’s grasp.

  “You’re no one. You’re just a toy. Disposable. So get back to your trainer, or you and your little spider bitch are going to regret it,” Oz sneered, but there was obvious fear alongside the rage in his eyes.

  At Oz’s words, Tomb lost control of his gargoyle and completely shifted. His smooth, glossy skin was replaced with hard rock. Within me, I could feel my spider beaming with pride and appreciation. But this was dangerous. Fighting Spector had consequences.

  Tomb dropped him on the floor and cracked his knuckles, but Oz didn’t stay on the ground for long. He took Tomb’s sudden shift for the threat it was, and pulled out his relic coin, prepared to burn Tomb. It was almost humorous to watch. It was clear on Tomb’s blasé expression that the threat of pain didn’t bother him. He’d been conditioned to endure torture.

  “Back off,” Tomb growled again when Oz switched his attention to me.

  Although I was thankful that Tomb intervened, things were going south fast, and the other guards around us observed with charged anger, ready to put us hybrids under their boots and assert their dominance.

  I reached within myself, pushing past the exhaustion and pain. I accessed that protective vitality within me, and my spider welcomed me with open arms, like she’d been waiting on me to ask for help.

  And then I exhaled.

  My meditative sigh was heavy with power. During feedings, my spider would lace the air with lust to calm her prey. And Oz? He was our prey.

  “What are you doing?” Oz asked cautiously as I walked toward him.

  He was already hard by the time I made it in front of him. It was like sex appeal dripped from my skin. I felt sensual and confident. Each move, each breath was like delicate foreplay.

  Once I was toe-to-toe with Oz, I brushed my knuckles along his cheek. There was something satisfying about the way he shivered with lust. On the surface, it seemed sensual, but the core of my lure wasn’t hardened cocks or slick panties—though those were added benefits. The core of my spider’s abilities revolved around control.

  Every ragged inhale forced our chests to clash. In the background, I could hear footsteps heading toward me. I could feel Tomb’s heavy stare.

  “Little
fly,” I rasped before lifting up on my toes and dragging the tip of my fang across the ridge of his ear. “Stop fighting me. I want you to dismiss us for the day.”

  I felt the conflicting emotions war inside him. He wanted me, that much was obvious. All the signs were there. His hard cock, the sweat on his brow, the shudder in his breath.

  Oz’s body responded exactly as my spider intended—and he hated me for it. His teeth were clenched as I scented him. The adrenaline-filled arousal tinged my nose, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was a slave to desire. His body betrayed him with the basic need to fuck, and I was the master of his lust.

  “You have more training to do,” Oz rasped, trying to fight it.

  I studied the effects of my lure through a scientist’s eye. I made mental notes of the battle on his face, realizing that my pull could only reach so far. It couldn’t control his actions, just dull his inhibitions. My spider’s lure might not fully control him, but I could make him so uncomfortable and drawn to me that he did whatever I asked.

  “I don’t want to train anymore,” I said again while backing away.

  I sauntered backward until my back collided with a stone chest. Arms wrapped around me, steadying me.

  Oz ran his hand down his torso and grabbed his cock through his pants with a quiet groan. A longing ache traveled up his spine. “Fuck,” he croaked.

  None of this was arousing for me. Nothing about Oz attracted my spider, and it wasn’t until Tomb’s rumbling chuckle vibrated against my skin that a true longing settled within me.

  “Dismiss us for the day, and I’ll stop,” I told him with a shrug. “At this current rate, you’re going to have a very public, very unsatisfying orgasm,” I said. I kept this odd balance between my demon’s sinister desires and my own humor. “I don’t think any of us want to witness that.”

  Oz looked around the room in rock-hard embarrassment.

  I looked around the room too, only to notice that all of the trainers were headed my way, coins in hand.

  Shit.

  “Get on the ground, spider bitch,” one of them said. “Hands flat on the floor.”