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“Noooooo-noooooooo-noooooo,” she whimpered desperately, her cheek pressed against the tiles, her eyes squeezed shut. Finally—it could have been seconds, could have been hours later—she took a tiny sideways peep only to see the spider unfurl to its gigantic fullest horribleness, flex its hairy legs, and jump. Straight at her.
Adrenaline speared Felicity into crazed action. She vaulted through the air, landing badly, her left foot buckling and sliding sideways on the wet surface. A blinding pain shot through her thigh as she hit the ground, but even so, primal fear overrode the pain as she curled herself into a tight little ball.
What if it was about to crawl onto her? Her sodding leg could snap off, but shecouldn’thave that thing touch her skin.
And then…
“Jesus Christ, are you okay?”
She knew that voice.
And now alarm bells were clanging in her head, joining forces with the pain in her leg in a cacophony of awfulness.
Here she was.
Lying in a crumpled wet heap, completely starkers.
With a giant spider.
And Oliver Blake.
Could anything in the world be worse than this?
