“Of course,” he says, then makes absolutely no move to release me. Instead, he leans closer, those alien eyes studying me with undisguised interest. “But then again… I’m curious about your physiological responses.”
“My what?” I try to shift away from him, but the silk only tightens, pressing against my body in ways that are simultaneously terrifying and… something else.
Something I never felt before.
“Your heartbeat,” he explains, one claw hovering just above my throat without touching. “It’s elevated, which is expected. Fear response. But there’s something else happening too.”
The silk creaks as I test its strength, a useless effort that only serves to bind me more securely. Each movement sends vibrations through the web, and I watch his eyes track them with predatory attention.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie, my voice strained.
“Your pulse just quickened,” he observes, moving to stand directly in front of me. “And there’s a flush spreading acrossyour skin that isn’t consistent with simple fear. And your blood is rushing somewhere quite… Well…”
My face burns hotter at his assessment. How can he possibly—
“I can sense the vibrations through my silk,” he continues, as if reading my thoughts. “Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every… shift.” His mandibles click softly. “It’s quite informative.”
Oh god. If he can feel all that, then he knows. He knows my body is responding in ways that make absolutely no sense given the circumstances.
Because there’s something about being completely helpless, caught like prey, displayed in his web, that’s doing things to me that I never felt before…
“I don’t—” I start, but he interrupts with a soft chittering sound of amusement.
“You humans are fascinating creatures,” he says, reaching down to retrieve the dropped package with casual grace. “So determined to deny what your bodies clearly communicate.”
“Can we just… focus on the delivery?” I ask desperately.
“Ah, yes. My fuzzy slippers.”
I blink, certain I’ve misheard. “Your what?”
“Fuzzy slippers,” he repeats, examining the box with delighted enthusiasm. “Four pairs. With memory foam insoles. They received excellent reviews online.”
The cognitive dissonance of a twelve-foot spider-creature ordering fuzzy slippers momentarily overrides my fear. “You ordered… slippers?”
“Is that unusual?” He tilts his head again.
“For a giant spider man? Yeah, kinda.”
His mandibles click rapidly, then he squints at the nametag on my uniform. “We all have our indulgences, June of Hartwell Delivery.”
The way he says my name sends an unexpected shiver through me, and I watch his eyes widen in response. He definitely felt that through the web.
“Your situation presents me with an interesting dilemma,” he says, setting the package aside and returning his full attention to me. “Social convention suggests I should free you immediately and apologize for the inconvenience.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” I say quickly.
“And yet…” He circles me again, each step deliberate and hypnotic. “Your body is telling me something quite different from your words.”
The silk shifts as he plucks one strand experimentally, sending a vibration through the entire web that makes me gasp involuntarily.
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
“Look, Mr.—”
“Riven,” he insists. “Vyders don’t use honorifics.”
“Riven,” I repeat, trying to sound firm despite being completely at his mercy. “I should really be going, so if you don’t mind—”
