Hours and days and minutes and weeks passed by. Or maybe it was just seconds.
At some point, I started vomiting up blood. It was all over my clothes, staining my white hospital gown with bright red rejection. My body was failing, and I was helpless to stop it. So I just closed my crusty eyes and slept.
When I woke up next, I was in new clothes and my cell was clean. Spector liked to subtly remind me that they had complete control—that they were always watching. They changed my clothes while I slept. They decided when I ate and how much. They even pumped the vents with heady fumes, forcing me to sleep.
I wished they would just let me sleep forever.
“Get up,” a gruff voice suddenly said, startling me.
I struggled to open my eyes and push myself up off the floor. My heavy head looked over as a tall man in a Spector uniform with a smattering of black hair falling down his back stepped inside my small room that felt more like a cage.
Well, this was new. No one had come into my cell the entire time I’d been here—at least not while I was awake. And despite the fact that I was sure I hadn’t moved in days, his proximity did something to me. My fangs suddenly ached and dropped down. A single thread of silk fell from my pinky finger. The hunger hit me like a baseball bat to the gut as I pulled myself up to a sitting position.
Whoa.
Hunger slammed through me at his presence, but something else started to boil up right alongside it. Something alien. Something…sensual.
The guard’s nostrils flared, and his eyes snapped over to me. He frowned as he scented me, a look of desire and wariness battling over his features.
My spider pushed out more of the strange power, as if trying to hook him. I was weak, and sharing a body felt clumsy, but the spider still managed. I could feel it coming out of my pores in soft waves of whispering breath. It felt carnal. When I saw the guard falter, his pupils dilating, I realized what she was doing. She was luring him.
The guard cleared his throat, visibly trying to stop himself from reacting to the pull. “Get up and follow me,” he said, his foot shoving at my thigh.
“Where are you taking me?” I croaked, wondering when I’d last spoken.
“Get the fuck up,” he demanded angrily, using his meaty hand to pick me up by my hair.
A yelp escaped me, fiery pain exploding in my scalp as he used his brutal hold to lift me up until I was standing on shaking legs.
I cried out, but my back arched as sudden arousal flooded me from his touch.
What the fuck?
My body’s response to this strange man’s cruelty horrified me, and I tamped it down. It was part of whatever lure power my spider was using. It had to be.
He shoved me out of the cell, and flickering lights in the hallway assaulted my vision. Doors lined each side, and screams could be heard echoing down the long, dreary corridor.
I tried to remember each turn and twist as we navigated the many cells. My exhausted feet could barely keep up, but the man’s thick fingers stayed on my arm as he stomped down the hall. My panties were drenched, my skin was on fire, and my legs shook as my clit pulled at my attention, pulsing with need. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but my silent demon was aching to take control, aching to be filled, and more power pumped from my skin in waves of dark desire. I fought it so hard I started retching again.
Why was the demon doing this? Why lure him? And why was my body reacting this way?
The man gave me a withering glare as I gagged. “If you vomit blood on my boots, I’ll make you clean it with your tongue. Now stand up straighter.”
Holding a hand against my mouth, I did as he said, and he guided me to a set of double doors. After using his free hand to push them open, he yanked me forward and shoved me inside, closing them after me. I fell to my knees, the hard ground greeting me.
“Get off the floor,” a demand called from across the vast room.
I blinked. Once. Twice. My tired blue eyes adjusted to the dark terror of the bright room. It was like the fluorescent lights overhead were my first glimpse of the sun after months of rain, but I wasn’t disillusioned by the brightness. I knew the storm wasn’t over.
I stood and rolled my shoulders back, like a soldier preparing for battle. I was so fucking weak I could barely keep my feet from collapsing beneath me, but pride was an old friend of mine. She helped me survive the life as a bastard vampire, hated by society, and I knew she’d help me survive whatever Spector had planned too.
The room was stark and cold, with equipment lined against the walls and the tall ceilings that made me feel small. It was also separated by what looked like bullet-proof glass, and behind it, a group of six men sat at a long table, observing me like fish in a tank.
I recognized one of them.
Blond hair. Handsome, stern features. Polished suit and downturned lips. Blue eyes that matched my own.
My father.
He looked at me like I wasn’t even worth the glance.
“Come forward, Miss Coven,” one of the other men ordered. He was older, sporting a lab coat. Salt and pepper hair filled his head, and a pair of thick spectacles were perched low on his nose as he read from a stack of papers
