At the mention of my mates, I froze, and all my lure evaporated. It was like all the humid tension was sucked from the air, leaving behind the dry reality that this man knew far too much, and he had the answers I desperately needed. I’d learned to accept my spider, but that didn’t necessarily mean I understood her.
“My mates? What do you know about them? Who even are you?” I asked.
He cocked his head suspiciously, as if trying to understand my question. I knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment he hit a button on the elevator that stopped our ascent, causing our metal cage to slam to a screeching halt and shrill alarms to sound.
He shoved me against the wall. “You want introductions? Fine. I’m Risk. Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?” he growled with predatory intent, his body pressing against mine, his hips holding me in place.
I moaned. I fucking moaned. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I was hungry again? Shit, I thought Byron would’ve satisfied me longer than this. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks, but when I tried to push him off, he didn’t budge an inch. The hand I’d used to shove at his chest lingered, and I had zero excuse for that other than the fact that I wanted to feel him.
“Spector sent me,” I replied without hesitation, though my voice was thick with desire. “They want to bring you in.”
Wow. I wasn’t an expert at this, but I was fairly certain that telling your mark the truth meant you failed. Well, I guess I’d just royally fucked up this mission. I’d chosen a side, and it clearly wasn’t Spector’s. It was like my spider’s trust in him was bleeding into how I responded.
“Why?” he growled.
“Hell if I know,” I snapped, trying very hard to keep my hands from wandering over his chest. “They forced a fucking possession on me, tortured me, and now they’re threatening my family if I fail this mission.”
His eyes zeroed in on the mark on my throat, like he was trying to gauge if I really was the Black Widow. I still didn’t understand how he’d recognized me.
As if being summoned to prove herself, my spider fought through the haze of my consciousness and broke through, bringing her deadly, demonic power to full control. “Hello, Risk,” her dark voice whispered. “Aren’t you going to help an old friend?”
His eyes flashed in recognition, and he stared at my lips as if he could see the haunting words that had escaped them. Lure was pooling out of me without control. I couldn’t even rein in the desire if I wanted to. I was working on my spider’s instincts, allowing her lust to fill the cramped elevator. My panties were soaked. The hunger within me roared with defining determination as webs fell like trailing ribbons from my fingertips. My hands began to graze up his chest of their own volition until they circled around the hot skin of his neck, and I was toying with the black hair at his nape. I wanted to touch him. The need was so pure and intense that I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to, either.
“How much time do we have?” he finally answered, pinning me with his dark stare.
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to press my bracelet once I’ve lured you on our own. But they have eyes everywhere,” I whispered while glancing around the cramped elevator, as if expecting to see shadowed faces in the glass.
Those plush serpent lips of his, spilling with cursed chances and risky behaviors, greeted the ridge of my ear. “Then I suppose we should give them something to watch.” He shoved his thigh between my legs, and I gasped when my core settled on top of his hard muscles. His hands moved to grasp my waist, searing into my skin, and I nearly moaned aloud again.
I breathed in, brushing the pebbled peaks of my breasts against his chest, praying for a break in the thick tension. My lure was heady and hot, taking our chance encounter and elevating it to a need I couldn’t grasp. I was thudding. Pulsing. Slipping with slick desire.
I was drawn to Crow and Tomb. I craved them. They were both objects of desire for my spider and me, and they helped me compartmentalize the things that Spector made me do—helped me accept my demon and who I was now. But even more than that, they were mine. My spider had a claim on them before I ever understood what that meant.
But this desire with Risk was different. It felt different, yet familiar. It felt hot and reckless, needy and tempting. Like he was the forbidden fruit I’d always wanted to ensnare. Just being in his presence was sexy. Dangerous. Thrilling. I loved it.
“How do you feel about taking risks, Black Widow?” he asked seductively. The low timber of his voice made my skin tingle.
“It has a certain appeal,” I replied, wanting to stretch onto my tiptoes and skim my lips over his.
“I’m glad you think so,” he murmured. “Because what I’m about to do is incredibly risky.” He grabbed both my wrists and squeezed tightly, the padding of his thumb lining up with my thudding vein. “Hold your breath,” he demanded before a strange popping sensation started to erupt within every fiber of my being.
Every cell. Every muscle. It was like I was being squeezed in a vacuum. Reality blistered with a deafening snap. One second, we were entwined against the wall of the elevator, and the next, I was sucked through the straw of existence. It felt like an eternity, but it could only have lasted a matter of seconds.
Folding, unfolding, burrowing, burning. My body shaped and molded, bent and broke. And then I was spit back out into a stark white
