"They won't touch you, Alyssa," Gage says, not looking at me or acknowledging my last comment.
"I'm not worried about that. Witches and widows have never clashed."
"I didn't fucking do this!" he yells suddenly, shocking the hell out of me. I guess he decided he couldn't overlook my tart remark after all. "It wasn't my fault. You're not going dark because of me. You're not dark at all! It's him. He's toxic. It started with that stupid bond, and now it has gotten worse. I'm the one who's capable of saving you from yourself."
Oh, good grief. Why did I open this stupid door?
The steering wheel whines under his grip, and he loosens his hold in response. I'm not surprised to see that the steering wheel has been bent in certain places, making it looked warped now.
"Shit," he murmurs under his breath, assessing the damage he unintentionally caused.
"Feel better?" I ask, grinning, trying to lighten the mood.
An accidental smile quirks up on his lips, but he banishes it just as quickly. "A little," he mutters dryly.
"Are you going to be able to stomach seeing me with him? If not, then you should probably stay somewhere else."
He snorts derisively, shaking his head in disgust. "And leave you alone with three night stalkers, two lycans, and an incubus? I'll stomach it."
"Since when do you judge someone based on their fey classification?" I ask as he rounds the corner to a large estate.
A slow crawl of something odd attacks me, and I ignore the sweat forming on my brow as I take in Gage's profile. I hate being so drawn to him. When I'm with Kane, I barely feel anything at all for the dark user. When he's not here—I don't like the way I'm feeling right now.
Fortunately, the scenery around me helps to deter my unbidden emotions. The black, rod-iron gates draw my attention, giving me the creeps. There are silver skulls at the top of each rod. The driveway is long, dark, and covered by a heaping pile of trees that work hard to cut out the last glimmer of the sun as it sets to show the red moon mortal eyes can't see.
I look at the white moon that hides secrets from even me, knowing Gage is seeing something else entirely. As we start traveling under the veil of limbs and leaves, I lose sight of the moon, the sky—everything.
Gage cuts his lights on, illuminating the drive ahead, though it only adds to the skin-prickling allure. Of course, the numerous sticky webs decorating the trees don't exactly help. I cringe when I see silky hulls too big to hold anything less than a human. I've never seen a spidress balloon her prey. I never want to either.
It's going to be hard to work with someone who is actively killing humans, unlike Kane and his clan. I swallow hard, keeping my eyes concentrated on the numerous webbed deaths.
"It could be their mates," Gage says idly, noting my trembling gaze. "This is one of their homes. It's the one they chose to meet us at."
"They just leave Peter Parker out here to die after they've had his kid and fed off him?" I grumble, slumping down.
"They have a barrier that prevents true humans from entering. They're cautious of exposure."
I give him the most incredulous glare. "I was talking about the fact they kill their lover. I wasn't referring to them risking exposure."
He frowns, not meeting my gaze as he studies the dark path ahead.
"Sometimes, it's better to just get it over with," he mumbles, cutting me deep.
He stops the car before I can say anything, and I look around at all the tall trees towering over the brilliantly-white home. Cobwebs from actual normal spiders are here and there. It's not like they give a damn.
"Gage, I'm sor—"
"Don't, Alyssa. I'll find a way to prove it to you. Until then, do what you have to. I realize this was all tossed on your lap and you're not even immortal yet. Come on. The widows don't like to be kept waiting."
I sigh as I climb out, and a chill spreads over me as I stare at some of the closer silken body bags. Gross.
"If one speck of a web touches me, I'm kicking your ass," I murmur under my breath as he presses his palm against the small of my back to guide me up the porch.
I ignore the shiver of desire that slithers through my veins—it's unwelcome and unwanted. What's frigging wrong with me?
"Just stay close. This is a friendly visit," he whispers.
Friendly. I wish I could scoff out something witty about eight-legs, fangs, spinning-webs—but nothing clever comes to mind. I just want to get this over with and get back to Kane.