by CoraLee June
“What?” he asked while leaning even closer. He cupped his hand around my neck and brushed his lips over mine. “Like Mate? Wicked Love? Baby? Sweetheart? Mine?”
“Kitten,” Tomb offered offhandedly.
“Snookums,” Crow added.
“Little pet doesn’t have to mean something derogatory, Motley. I treasure you. I own you. You’re mine to do with as I please,” Risk rasped while squeezing even tighter. Our colliding chests created delicious friction, making my nipples pebble.
“We so do not have the time for this,” Crow mumbled, though he sounded as heady as I felt.
“Are you sure? She could be fashionably late,” Tomb added.
Risk lavished me with a brief, soul-crushing kiss. I could taste the coffee on his breath and the sulfur in his soul. It was devastatingly quick, leaving me wanting more of his decadent tongue sweeping across mine. “We don’t have time, my pet,” he said, though his face was filled with regret. “We have to go.”
Crow whistled, and one of his birds animated to life, fluttering toward me before landing on my shoulder. “Russell is going with you. If I can’t go, then I at least want my eyes on you,” he said as the bird nuzzled my cheek.
“Russell the crow? That’s his name?” I deadpanned. The bird cawed happily at me, as if pleased.
“All my birds have names. Magnus. Bernadette. Gigi. Fabia. Aerin is a pain in the ass and eats all my chocolates.”
“Can we please discuss how you name your crows another time? I’d like to get there on time,” Risk interrupted with a roll of his eyes.
“Shit. I don’t have something to send her off with,” Tomb said while frantically looking around the room.
“Chisel off one of your appendages. She could beat her enemies to death with your cock rock,” Risk teased.
Tomb’s eyes brightened for a moment, as if considering it, then shook his head. “It’s too big. She’d never be able to carry it all that way.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, we’re going now,” I said, slipping by Risk to land a kiss on both Tomb’s and Crow’s lips.
My mates shared a serious glance as I made my way to the door. “Take care of her, demon.”
“On my honor,” Risk said with a hand to his heart.
“He keeps saying that word, but I’m not comforted,” Tomb mumbled to himself.
Risk and I walked out into the hall, and I gave them one last wave before the door closed behind us. Turning around, my brow shot up in surprise when I saw the heavy presence of Spector guards. There were way more than usual. Some were posted at the end of the hallways, while others were marching back and forth doing rounds.
“What’s with the extra security?” I whispered to Risk, hurrying my steps to keep up with him.
He reached down and grabbed my hand, tucking it in the crook of his arm. His hand lingered over mine, his hot fingers dancing over my knuckles in a light caress.
“Oh, them? They’re here for you. Your stunt with burning that guard alive made them a bit more fearful of you than they were before,” he answered with a smirk, as if he were thrilled by that. “Such risky behavior, Wicked Love,” he taunted. “Though the webs you spun at the front of the door? Brilliant. I particularly liked you constricting the male’s hands until they popped right off. It’s sexy to see you get so bloodthirsty.”
“Only you would get turned on by that,” I murmured as we passed another pair of guards. I didn’t miss the way they eyed me, as if they wanted to litter my body with bullets and punish me for taking one of their own.
Russell kept close, staring down the guards with his beady red eyes as we navigated the hallways. Although I’d been much more comfortable since Risk showed up, I wasn’t disillusioned enough to think that I was suddenly free. I was just an accessory to the demon they wanted to keep happy.
The demonstration was held in the training room, and the moment we walked through the doors, a shiver of fear traveled up my spine. I hadn’t been there since I’d killed Oz, but the blood was mopped up and my webs whisked away. There was no evidence of what I’d done, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Chairs, set up like an arena, lined the floor, and chatty supes had already found their seats. They looked around excitedly, like the presentation was more of a movie premier instead of a sinister presentation.
“We need to stand with the other hybrids,” Risk murmured in my ear while directing me toward the side wall.
“Why didn’t they want Crow and Tomb participating in the demonstration?” I whispered as the lights dimmed. “They’re strong.”
“They’re also unpredictable,” he countered.
“So am I.”
“Yes, but I’m trying to convince them that you’re my little pet, so you’re going to rein in the murderous tendencies and let me do my thing. Okay?”
Risk and I were definitely going to have a conversation about who wore the pants in this mate bond.
Risk led me to the other side of the training room, where all the hybrids were gathered together. “Stay here a moment while I look for Belvini.”
I nodded before he walked off, but as soon as he was gone, I found a dozen pair of hybrid eyes looking at me. About half of them were Thibault students, and the other half I only recognized from brief sightings in the cafeteria or training room. Uneasy under their stares, I turned away, choosing instead to face the supes watching us with open curiosity.
Potential investors for Spector’s scheme. I recognized some of them, and my eyes landed on the council members—particularly the pregnant female who was staring daggers at me.
Okay, so facing that direction wasn’t much better.
I was ready to just opt for a staring contest with the floor when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw one of the shifter students standing in front of me. “I wanted to introduce myself to you, Black Widow,” she said quietly. “We all heard about what you did with that guard.”
“Yeah,” another hybrid said, pushing forward. He was a necro with jet black hair and gangly limbs. “Finally someone fucking stands up to these sadistic pricks.”
“Shh, not so loud!” a girl to his left hissed at him. He just shrugged.
The shifter girl nodded. “We just wanted you to know, we want to fight back too.”
Shock made my eyes widen. These were people who had once taunted me in the halls of Thibault. The people who had looked at me with fear and revulsion after I’d killed Byron. Now they were...aligning with me?
“Listen, I don’t want anyone to get punished because of me,” I insisted quietly.
“We already get punished,” the necro said. “This whole place is one big fucking punishment. We want to get back at them.”
The conversation in the room was growing steadily louder as more people filtered in, but Risk and Belvini were still nowhere in sight. My surprise at their demeanor toward me was quickly turning to dismay. I knew we were powerful, but most of us were young, and we were also vastly outnumbered.
“Yeah, let’s fucking attack them all right now,” a male vampire said, pushing forward. I caught his eye. One of Byron’s friends.
“No,” I said quickly. “Did you not notice all the guards around? They’re everywhere. If we fight back, we have to be smart about it.”
The shifter girl nodded. “We will listen to the Black Widow,” she told the others, her stern expression brooking no argument.
I wasn’t so sure that I was up to the task. We had to get organized—and fast. But first, we needed to learn everything we could about Spector, which meant we needed to pay attention to this demonstration and hope like hell the council didn’t agree to buy their contract.
“Right now, we watch. We learn. When we’re ready to do something about Spector, I’ll let you know,” I finally said before fixing my face forward on the makeshift stage.
Everything was just about to get started, when I saw Cheryl and Stiles enter the room. She was waving her hand and pressing it against Stile’s chest, making sure every
one in the room saw the gigantic rock on her hand.
“Oh, Motley!” she screeched from across the room. “Did you see that Laverne Bromine is here?” She was trying to whisper-scream at me and was drawing the attention of all the spectators. I slunk backwards toward the wall with a shaky nod and a forced smile.
Stiles led her away with his hand clamped over her mouth and found them both seats in the front row. Risk appeared from the side and was heading toward me with a determined scowl.
It was time to see what Spector was made of.
Chapter 24
Belvini liked the sound of his own voice.
He’d been speaking at his glossy black podium for nearly an hour, while a projector showed video clips and statistics on the wall behind him. Everyone in the audience was held in rapt attention, hanging on his every word.
Meanwhile, the other hybrids and I were standing like cattle in a herd, waiting to be shown off. We couldn’t see very much, since there was a wall of Spector guards standing in front of us, but I caught enough of the information displayed to realize just how many rituals Belvini had to have implemented in order to get the numbers he boasted. Five years. This program had been going on for five years while Belvini tweaked and perfected the possession rituals. When he showed a graph boasting his higher success ratio, my stomach churned. So many deaths. So many lives altered forever.
No one in the audience asked anything about where he found his “volunteers.” All they seemed to care about was one thing—power.
Risk was leaning up against the wall to my left, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black dress pants as he watched with a bored look on his face. But every time Belvini stated the name of a demon whose blood he’d used to perform the ritual, I saw Risk’s jaw tighten.
The crow at my shoulder stayed watchful, never once leaving from its perch beside my head. Every once in a while, when my anxiety spiked, I felt a little beak burying itself in my hair and nipping lightly at my neck, like it was trying to comfort me.
Finally, the lights brightened, and that part of the presentation ended, and then it was time for the main event.
Us.
“Now, you all were invited here for an exclusive demonstration. We’ll show you exactly the level of power Spector can bring,” Belvini announced, waving his hand in a flourish to point to us.
As one, the guards moved aside, parting like curtains to show actors on a stage.
Belvini called the male necro up first. He stood ramrod straight on the stage, staring out at the crowd with a blank look as the demon went over his file. “One of our Thibault graduates who decided to volunteer,” Belvini said by way of introduction. The fact that he made it seem like we willingly joined Spector made me sick.
“Necro. Nineteen years of age. His demon gave him the ability to take any physical injury that others sustain onto himself and then heal at an accelerated rate.”
Damn. No wonder he hated Spector so much. I didn’t even want to imagine all the trials and tests they’d put him through.
One after another, Belvini called up the hybrids, showing their stats and video clips of their powers in action. Some of them—like the shifter girl who could duplicate objects—were made to use their power on stage.
“This is worse than the time my mother made me do that beauty pageant in Belize, and those presenters were super skeezy,” she said under her breath with a shudder.
“Now I’ll bring up Black Widow, one of Spector’s most promising hybrids,” Collector said while gesturing toward me.
My eyes snapped over to him, my heart rate picking up in speed. Cheryl nudged me forward when I still hadn’t moved, and I reluctantly made my way up the steps to the makeshift stage, my legs trembling in trepidation. I obviously wasn’t moving fast enough for them though, because one of the guards pressed his gun at my back, pushing me toward the podium.
“The Black Widow is a vampire hybrid and was successfully possessed two months ago. She has unique abilities. She can lure her prey, spin webs from her fingers, and is significantly stronger after she feeds,” Belvini continued while nodding at the screen projector behind him.
As the screen loaded, he addressed the crowd again, that sly smile of his firmly in place as he adjusted his tie. “I felt that for her particular demonstration, a video would be more appropriate.” Some of the guards chuckled at that, and I felt my stomach drop. No. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just stand here while all these people watched me fuck and feed.
My eyes reluctantly snapped to the screen, and sure enough, I was front and center, teasing my meal with my demonic grin. The man was naked and barely lucid, drunk off my lure.
“The Black Widow feeds off the essence of others through sexual contact. Once penetration is achieved, she feeds from their life force, making her stronger than any of the other hybrids we have in our arsenal.”
I glanced at the shadowed crowd. Some of them looked horrified. Some looked intrigued. Risk looked murderous.
It was an intimate video, showing my arching back and the sweat dripping down my spine. It showed the human’s flinching body growing gradually still, until there was nothing left but vacant eyes and my demon’s satisfied grin.
“But this isn’t her only ability. We’re still working out how to mass produce her talents, but she does have the ability to form mate bonds, and her partners become invincible,” Belvini began. The screen then flipped to a shot of the tank. I was sobbing in a web of grief, and Tomb’s lifeless body was lying on the ground in front of me.
“Here, one of her mates died during a feeding, but as you can see…” Belvini said while fast forwarding the tape. “He emerged with a mate mark on his neck that matches her own, and he is now indestructible.”
The screen then changed again, showing the very training room we were standing in. Clip after video clip, Tomb was murdered. Tortured. Suffocated. Burned alive. I watched the entire scene with anger in my blood and revenge dripping from my fangs. They fast forwarded through most of it, but the message was clear.
Tomb was everlasting, and I’d made him that way.
At the end of the clip, dozens of hands shot up. “Is she for sale?” a man greedily asked while eyeing me. He was a shifter male that reeked of alpha authority.
“Not at this time, no. We’re hoping to research her abilities more and somehow reproduce her bonding effects once we can control the outcome. Mate bonds can be fickle, but we think we’ve found a way to streamline the process,” Collector replied.
A few hands went down at his answer. Sick bastards. I’d burn this place to the ground before I let them commercialize my mate bond. Supes were always looking to level up. It wasn’t enough that they didn’t age, they wanted the guarantee that nothing could ever kill them either.
“So she kills anyone she sleeps with unless they become a mate? How can you guarantee that we won’t get possessed with something like that?” a man asked. “I don’t know about you, but I value my sex life, and my husband would probably kill me if my dick turned murderous.” The room chuckled at the male’s words, like it was one big joke—like what I’d done was a joke. They didn’t care that they’d watched me murder humans. All they cared about was the potential for themselves.
Once the laughter died down, Collector continued. “I can assure you that her demon is very rare. The results of her possession are an anomaly.” Collector turned his gaze to me with pride and wonder, though I felt the annoyance beneath his façade. He didn’t like me one bit, but that didn’t matter. He would happily use me up and bleed me dry. “Spector will hold your hand through the entire process. Our scientists are well equipped to help you learn and wield your new abilities. We understand how important it is to feel in control, and our services include making sure you have a successful hybridization by overseeing your transition and helping you through the process.”
“But you can’t guarantee what demon we get, right?” another person asked.
“No, but if you feel incompatible wit
h your new abilities, we have procedures to reverse the possession. We’re contracted with a priest who can conduct exorcisms, and we have the tools to help suppress your demon desires if they become too much.”
One woman stood and faced me. She had a notepad in hand and was ready to scribble down my answer. “Are you happy with your demon ritual? Do you feel like it was a good decision?”
I scoffed, which made Collector stiffen. I could feel the threatening warning rolling off of him and see the forbidding caution in his stare.
I didn’t care.
“No. I do not like being the Black Widow. Would you?” I asked. I kept it short and bitter. I didn’t want to piss off Collector too much, but also wanted to make my stance known.
“I-I guess not. That would really put a damper on my sex life,” the woman replied cheekily, making the room chuckle.
Collector slid into the conversation with grace and efficiency. “I’d like to remind everyone that the Widow’s possession was rare. We do not anticipate this happening to everyone. Please remember that we included her in this demonstration to illustrate future possibilities, like the mate bond. These projects require donations, and we are excited to explore the endless opportunities associated with that—with the proper funding, of course.”
Spoken like a true politician.
Another hand went up. “How does the ritual work, exactly?” a man asked. Of all of them, he looked the wariest. His face was twisted up in a frown, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t completely sold on what Spector was offering.
Collector gnawed at his lip in annoyance before responding. “I’m so glad you asked, my friend. Allow me to show you.”
The black curtains that had served as a backdrop drifted open, and my eyes widened when I saw what was behind them.
A male, bound in chains with an ethereal glow to them, was sitting on a metal chair. His head was hanging low, and there were a few scientists in white lab coats around him, gathering his blood that dripped slowly from an IV attached to both arms.
He had shaggy blond hair and a full beard that looked like it was there out of neglect rather than choice. He wore faded Spector sweats, and the ragged breaths he took at unnatural intervals let me know how bad off he was. I couldn’t even sense his power the way I could sense Collector and Risk. All that was coming off of the gaunt male was a faint trail of fading life.
