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
