The redhead moves through the space, but rather than immediately following, Sin tucks us against a wall. He pretends to trail kisses along my neck, and I tilt my head to give him better access, even as we both keepour eyes on the woman. Whatever heat and tension lingering between us is on pause.
The woman moves between more dancers suspended from the webbed ceiling. Only there’s something incrediblywrongwith these dancers. They hang upside down, only a foot off the ground, and their limbs move in eerie, unnatural motions.
White sacks cover their faces, save for two small slits over their nostrils. Their bodies are cocooned in intricate white nets, and through the gaps, I catch glimpses of flesh and blood.
My gut clenches as I realize they aren’t dancing – they’re writhing. Arms and legs press weakly against the silk, lethargically trying to escape.
Horror twists my insides.
Spider sacs.
They’re trapped inside spider sacs.
Clubgoers lounge around the dancers, and ice floods my veins when I catch them feeding on the prisoners. Sharp fangs dig into the exposed flesh, and satisfied moans occasionally pierce the air. The patrons not feeding are staring off into space, and their pupils are blown.
“Spider venom is one of the few things that can get shifters stoned,” Sin explains before I can ask.
“Are the people being fed on willing participants?” I have so many other questions, but this is the most important.
“Morgana had spies look into it, many years ago. The dancers are brought in from the Mortal Realm. None of them want to leave,” he answers, but nothingin his demeanor suggests he thinks they’re here of their own free will.
My lingering concern is shoved aside when I spot a flash of red hair slipping through a back door.
“Let’s go hunting, kitten,” Sin whispers as we move to follow her.
I can’t help but smirk at the anticipation in his tone.
The exit leads to an empty alley, and we shed our masks without a word. Sin’s hand finds mine, and in the next heartbeat, we’re invisible.
“Why didn’t we just do this from the start?” I whisper, frowning.
“Wards. Tampering with them could have triggered alarms. Blending in was easier,” he explains as we start down the narrow space.
Stepping out of the alley, my eyes find our target instantly, even though she’s already a street ahead of us.
We move stealthily, neither of us making a sound as we follow her deeper into the city.
She’s definitely acting shifty, looking around her every few minutes. Like us, she moves in complete silence and sticks to the shadows.
My legs are already tired, but I tell myself it’s just from the orgasm Sin gave me.
We keep up our fast pace, and something drips down my thighs, reminding me that miniskirts are not mission-appropriate wear.
After a few more streets, the woman heads inside what appears to be an old, abandoned church.
My pulse stutters. If this isn’t the setup for a horror movie plot, then I don’t know what is. Still, I don’t say a word as we follow her inside.
At this point, I’m so desperate for answers that my body practically moves of its own accord.
The temperature drops when we step inside the church, and there’s a stillness in the air that sends dread up my spine. It feels like visiting a place where something so horrible happened that even the walls refuse to forget.
Half the roof is missing, allowing only the faintest trail of moonlight to filter in. Through the dim light, I take in the caved-in wall on one side and the pile of broken, grime-coated pews on the other. Our target is already at the back of the room.
Without making a sound, she pulls something from her neck, wrapping it around her wrist before stepping through another doorway. Faint, golden light follows her.
Maybe she has an orb version of a flashlight?
Jealous.
