She’s smaller than I expected, this delivery driver who navigates mountain roads with such confidence. She’s perhaps five and a half feet of curves wrapped in practical cargo pants and sturdy boots. Her brunette hair has escaped its ponytail during her struggle with the web, framing a face that’s all sharp angles and sun-kissed skin, with constellations of freckles scattered across her nose.
But it’s her eyes that snare my attention completely: hazel, flecked with gold and green, wide with shock but burning with an intelligence that refuses to be cowed even in her current predicament.
She should look fragile suspended in my silk, this small human female, but instead she appears fierce, like a wildcat caught mid-pounce.
Her hands are calloused from honest work, and her weathered clothing shows she values practicality over vanity. Somethingabout her unpretentious beauty compels me more than any polished human female I’ve observed through my screens.
She is real in a way that makes my silk glands tighten with want.
“Fascinating,” I observe. “You’re caught rather thoroughly.”
“Spider,” she finally manages, her voice taut with strain. “You’re a giant spider.”
A common, if irksome, inaccuracy. “Vyder, actually,” I correct, beginning to circle her. The movement is calculated, designed to display my size and power, but my true purpose is to gather more data.
Her scent… it confirms what the silk is telling me. Sharp copper fear, overlaid with the rich, unmistakable perfume of burgeoning arousal. “The distinction is important, taxonomically speaking.”
I offer a perfunctory explanation about the web being a security measure while my mind races. This isn’t a simple case of a trespasser. This is an anomaly. A specimen of unprecedented interest.
“That’s nice, but can you let me go now?” she asks, trying to sound professional despite what her scent tells me. “This isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my evening.”
“Of course,” I lie, making no move to free her. Instead, I let my gaze linger on her, taking in every detail with my six eyes. The flush on her skin, the subtle parting of her lips. My curiosity is no longer purely academic. “But then again… I’m curious about your physiological responses.”
Her confusion is palpable. “My what?”
This provides the perfect opportunity to retrieve the dropped package. A test. I need to see how she reacts to a dose of the mundane amidst the monstrous. “Ah, yes. My fuzzy slippers.”
I watch her process the statement, the cognitive dissonance flashing across her face. “Your what?”
“Fuzzy slippers,” I repeat, a dry amusement coloring my tone. This is proving more entertaining than I could have imagined. “Four pairs. With memory foam insoles.”
“You ordered… slippers?”
“Is that unusual?” I tilt my head, enjoying her bewilderment.
“For a giant spider man? Yeah, kinda.”
Her candor is refreshing as I read her nametag. “We all have our indulgences, June of Hartwell Delivery.”
I say her name deliberately, watching for the effect. The silk sings with it: a sudden, sharp vibration as a shiver runs through her. It is not a shiver of fear.
The data is unequivocal.
“Your situation presents me with an interesting dilemma,” I say, setting the precious slippers aside and returning my full attention to the far more compelling package displayed in my web. I slowly pace before her again. “Social convention suggests I should free you immediately and apologize for the inconvenience.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” she says quickly, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“And yet…” I stop directly in front of her, leaning in. “Your body is telling me something quite different from your words.”
I pluck a single strand of the web, a simple test of its tension. The vibration travels through her, and she gasps involuntarily. Another spike in the data feeds. Confirmed.
“Look, Mr.—”
“Riven,” I insist. “Vyders don’t use honorifics.”
“Riven,” she repeats, and the sound of my name on her lips sends a surge of possessive instinct through me that is startling in its intensity.
It’s time to stop experimenting and start confronting. “Tell me, June, what do you think is happening here?” I move closer still, my exoskeleton mere inches from her skin. “Your pulse spikes when I do this. Your pupils dilate. Your skin flushes. These are fear responses, yes. But they’re also…”
