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The Cyrva male snickered, chest vibrating and lips flattening to suppress his laughter, pretty dents showing in his cheeks. I squeezed his eyes with my palms, and that shut him up, but his smirk didn’t fade.
He continued to move his thread around me, alternating palms when he couldn’t reach properly. When he finished, I was dressed in a pale-red chest band. Only the texture and smell indicated that it was a Spider’s thread.
Strangely, it remained warm—unpleasantly warm.
The Spider pulled me up. My head spun for a brief moment before I held on to him for support.
“Hold me tightly,” he said, and before I could ask why, he lifted me with one arm behind my knees and started walking.
I squeaked and threw my arms around his neck, holding him tightly, tensing as I anticipated him dropping me at any moment.
But his hold was too secure.
When we were close to his land, he adjusted me, encouraging my legs around his waist so that we were face to face before he placed his hands on the dark stone behind me. I thought he was trying to intimidate me by caging me, but then he was climbing. My hold on him tightened, and I hastily shut my eyes, focusing on the heat of his body against me rather than the growing distance between us and the ground.
A moment later, he placed me on soft grass, his hand supporting my back as he gently settled me down.
When I opened my eyes, he was on top of me, staring intently, and then he lowered his face before licking my neck.
I gasped, squirming under him and attempting to push him back until one of his hands seized both of my wrists and pinned them above my head, the movement of his warm tongue never stopping.
“I taste terrible, I swear, I—”
He huffed, his warm breath almost melting my skin. “You’re injured.”
My skin tingled and stretched as he licked my wounds, his tongue so warm it made me perspire. When my neck was cleaned up, he moved down to my shoulders and my collarbones, his soft, red hair tickling my skin. He had a firm grip on my wrists as he kept them above my head, yet even then, his touch held a gentleness that confused me. But I remained still.
Until he snagged his long fangs into the damp band around my chest and yanked, ripping it off in one sharp tug.
A loud, horrified gasp tore through my lips before it turned into a high-pitched noise of distress. I jerked and struggled under him when he lowered his head to my bare breasts, tears gathering in my panicked eyes, my body cold and shaking.
I voiced a frightened whimper when his wet tongue swiped a heated trail between my breasts. The gashes stung, the agony twinging all the way to my spine as his tongue followed every bleeding wound scratched across my chest. Cleaning my injuries? Or tasting my blood?
Another petrified noise escaped me, one he responded to by carefully squeezing my wrists in his hand. A warning?
But when my injured skin started to tingle and shift like it was stitching itself back, I quietened down and sniffled, squirming because he was heavy. Too warm. Too close. His tongue was big and rough on my skin. The way it stroked over my chest was too indulgent, languidly dragging over my breasts, grazing my nipples almost like he was… playing with them.
I didn’t know how to feel because a part of me wanted to shove him away, but another part was stunned that the Cyrva male was… taking care of me?
By the time he’d licked my chest clean of my wounds, my face felt like it was on fire. My skin felt like it would melt off my bones. I was gasping, trembling under him, pulse pounding in my throat.
When he drew back and released me, I flipped over and tried crawling away, but he quickly caught one of my ankles and dragged me back to him. A squeak escaped me as he pressed me to his solid chest with one arm around my shoulders and the other around my waist, his heavy legs crossed over mine to keep them down.
It was a Spider move notorious for imprisoning their prey.
And so painful because he was strong and heavy!
His warm breath tickled my right shoulder blade, and then it was his tongue again, stroking my skin intently. While he licked my skin and held me tightly with one arm, the other shifted to my healed chest. I stiffened as it neared my bare breasts. But then the smooth warmth of his silk kissed my skin as he spun it around my chest. When he needed to change hands, he pressed more of his weight onto my legs, making me wince but stay still while he continued wrapping my chest in his silk again.
It was… kind of him. Certainly a mercy that left my mind fuddled as I watched him clothe me like a parent would to a child.
He was a Cyrva. Cyrvas were not known to be so… sweet. Not kind or gentle at all, and if the three other breeds had been cruel, his kind was said to be theworst.
But he was… healing me. And wrapping his precious silk around me.
When he stopped licking at my injuries and finished dressing me, he didn’t free me. Instead, he kept me caged in his arms while he nosed at my nape.
Was he nuzzling me?
