It was this impulsiveness that troubled him most.
“I still don’t believe you.” Her golden essence seemed to strengthen as she grew more certain. “The Web is changing you too, isn’t it? This connection between us—it’s not one-way.”
Serrik stiffened. “You presume too much.”
“Do I?” She drew closer still, her essence brushing against his, sending shivers of sensation through his being.
“How would you have had me react then, little butterfly?” He was unable to keep the dangerous edge from his voice. “What would you prefer I be? A villain from a children’s tale? Would you prefer I make this simpler for you?”
“No. I thought you were someone who wouldn’t make any kind of sacrifices for me. That’s all.” The answer was simple.
And the honesty in it disarmed him. In this realm, without physical barriers, her emotions flowed freely into him—herconfusion, her reluctant gratitude, and beneath it all, a current of attraction that mirrored his own forbidden desire.
It would be so easy to take advantage. To twist that attraction, to bind her more tightly to him. The spider in him called for it—to wrap her in his golden threads until she could not distinguish between her will and his own.
But even as the thought formed, he rejected it.
“You should return to your body.” His tone was colder than he intended. “This connection drains you. And your…companionswill grow concerned.”
“Nos and Ibin think you’re using me.”
“I am using you,” he countered. “As you are using me.”
Her essence rippled with something like amusement. “Oh. Cool. Is that what we’re doing? Sweet. I missed the memo.”
The challenge in her tone ignited something in him—a hunger that had nothing to do with plans or schemes or vengeance. It was primal, visceral. Dangerous.
“Do not test me, Ava.” His control was rapidly fraying. “This state you have found me in is a dangerous one. I am not…entirely myself.”
“And what exactly are you threatening me with, Serrik?”
The question hung between them, heavy with implications neither was prepared to face.
“Continue this conversation, and you will have another choice to make,” he said finally. “As will I.”
Her essence swirled closer, almost enveloping him now. Without physical form, her curiosity manifested as tendrils of golden light caressing the edges of his being. Each touch sent ripples of sensation through him, awakening needs long dormant.
“And if I choose wrong?”
“There is no wrong choice.” He gritted his teeth. “Only consequences you will regret.”
Something shifted in the dreamscape—a tremor in the Web itself. Serrik felt it immediately.
“You are being pulled back. Your body calls to you.”
Her essence began to fade, golden light dimming. “Serrik?—”
“We will speak again. The second key awaits you. Be cautious, little butterfly. The Web grows more treacherous as the locks weaken.” He grimaced, pushing himself farther away from her.
“Wait—”
Her presence faded further, golden light retreating. But just before she vanished entirely, he felt something unexpected—a flare of emotion from her that was neither fear nor confusion nor even the simmering attraction that troubled them both.
It was compassion.
Forhim.
The sensation burned like holy water against his skin, forcing him to recoil. He was unaccustomed to such sentiment directed toward him, especially from one who knew, at least in part, what he truly was.
