Page 39 of The Unseelie War
She hoped it would never becomenormalfor her.
The moment was too powerful.
Ava's back hit the wall of the costume room as Serrik continued his advance, his human form dissolving like morning mist. The transformation was mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure—she couldn't look away even as every instinct screamed at her to run.
His torso remained humanoid, though his skin took on that chitinous sheen. The golden tattoos that decorated his chest shimmered in the dim lighting of the room. His face retained its familiar features, but his golden eyes multiplied until there were eight of them arranged in an arc across his forehead, each one focused on her with predatory intensity.
But it was the transformation below the waist that made her heart begin to race. Where legs should be, his body transitioned into the form of a massive spider, covered in dark green and black fur that absorbed the light of the room. Golden patterns decorated his back in jagged, beautiful designs.
Seven enormous jointed legs extended from his spider body,raising him up until he towered over her. And of course, the missing eighth leg was a golden stump that gleamed in the ambient light. The golden, needle-sharp points of each remaining leg clicked against the floor with each movement.
Golden threads dripped from the joints of his inhuman limbs like liquid sunlight, and from a position near his hips, two smaller appendages—the claspers she'd felt before—twitched with obvious nervous energy.
The aura of terror that poured from him was overwhelming, a psychic pressure that made her knees weak and her heart pound in her ears. This was the creature that had haunted the nightmares of the fae for millennia. This was what she'd said she loved.
“Still so certain of your words, little Weaver?” His voice was deeper in this form, carrying harmonics that seemed to resonate in her bones. “Still convinced you can love what I truly am? Still so eager for my embrace?”
Ava pressed herself against the wall, her breath coming in short gasps. Not from fear—though there was certainly that—but from something else entirely. Something that made her cheeks burn and her pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with terror.
He was magnificent. Terrifying, alien, absolutely inhuman—and magnificent.
Andhers.
And she washis.
And that was what she wanted.
To behis.Entirely. Fully. Wholly. Completely. Andfinally.
His.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.
Serrik went perfectly still, all seven legs freezing in place. Only those smaller appendages continued their restless movement, reaching toward her as if drawn by forces beyond his control.
“You lie.” But there was uncertainty in his voice now, a crack in his certainty that she didn't find him monstrous.
“I don’t.” Ava pushed herself away from the wall, taking a step toward him despite every survival instinct she possessed screaming at her to flee.
“I am a creature of nightmares.” His voice lacked its earlier conviction. “Look at me, Ava.Reallylook at me. I am everything humanity fears in the dark.”
She did look—really look—taking in every detail of his transformed state. The way his multiple eyes tracked her movements with flawless precision. The deadly grace of his spider legs as he shifted his weight. The way golden threads seemed to weave themselves around him without conscious thought, creating patterns in the air that spoke of power beyond comprehension.
“I see you. And I'm not running.” To prove her point, she took another step closer. Then another. Each movement seemed to send ripples of tension through his enormous form, his breathing growing more labored as she approached.
“Ava…” Her name was a warning, a plea, a prayer all at once.
“What?” She was close enough now to see the intricate details of his tattoos. “Afraid I might actually want you?”
“Yes.” The admission was barely a whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I might not be able to stop myself if you do.”
The raw honesty in his voice, the vulnerability beneath the monstrous exterior, made her heart clench. This wasn't a predator threatening her—this was someone who had spent centuries convinced he was unlovable, finally faced with evidence to the contrary and terrified of what it might mean.
“What if I don't want you to stop?” The words left her mouth before she could think about them, driven by an impulse that came from somewhere deeper than rational thought.
