The Spider Lady

The forest was hushed beneath the gaze of the moon, its shadows stretched long across the earth. Mist clung to the roots of ancient trees, and the only sign of life was a lone tent nestled near the base of a weathered ash. Inside, they slept soundly—breathing slow, unaware of the eyes that watched them from just beyond the tree line.

Edurne stepped silently across the moss-covered ground, bare feet making no sound as she approached. Her platinum hair shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the soft scent of freesia drifted with her like a warning wrapped in sweetness.

She knelt just outside the tent, close enough to hear their breath. A smile curled on her lips—patient, hungry—and then she began to hum.

The melody was soft, haunting. It danced through the stillness like a thread pulling tight. Not a lullaby, but a summons—meant to stir rather than soothe.

Her voice, when it came, was barely louder than the breeze.

"Mmm… There you are," she murmured to herself. "Sleeping so sweetly, so far from home..."

A pause. Her green eyes shimmered with quiet amusement.

"Won’t you come out, darling? It’s dangerous to sleep alone in these woods… but lucky you—" she whispered with a smile. "—I found you first."

The forest was still, save for the soft, rhythmic rustle of fabric shifting in the wind. A lantern flickered inside the tent below, casting dull shadows against the canvas walls. He was in there—alone. Breathing. Warm.

Edurne crouched in the upper branches of a knotted cedar, her pale fingers gripping the bark until her nails carved tiny grooves into the wood. Her green eyes glowed faintly in the dark, fixed unblinking on the tent. She hadn’t moved in over an hour.

She should’ve descended long ago. Slipped in through the flap and torn into him, let his flesh peel beneath her nails, warm and screaming, blood coating her tongue as she devoured him from the inside out.

But something had gone wrong.

It was his scent.

It hit her like a storm the moment she crossed his path. Musk, warmth, salt, and skin—all of it soaked into the fabric of his tent and steeped into the air like perfume. A scent so potent she nearly moaned when it first reached her. Her thighs pressed together now, tight, a pulse of need thudding in her core.

She hated it.

She hated that it made her hunger twist into something carnal. That her claws ached, yes—but so did her womb.

Her body was betraying her.

She dropped soundlessly from the branch, landing on the mossy earth with feline grace. No sound. Not even a breath disturbed the night as she crept toward the tent, slow, deliberate. Every footstep was a stroke of reverence.

Closer.

The fabric fluttered slightly. He shifted inside.

She stopped just beside the entrance, her head tilting as she inhaled sharply. Gods. The scent was stronger here. Her lips parted, trembling.

“I was going to eat you,” she whispered, voice like silk wrapped around a blade. “Flesh, bone, and blood.”

She reached for the flap but didn’t lift it—her hand hovering just above it, fingers curling faintly.

“But your scent… it’s maddening.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough to make it sting, green eyes fluttering shut as her breath grew shallow.

“I don’t want to rip you open anymore.”

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“I want to feel you inside me. I want to be filled by you. I want to keep your seed warm in my body and make it grow.”

A low tremble ran down her spine.

“I want to rut like an animal until I forget what I am.”

She pressed her forehead gently against the side of the tent, where the fabric dipped inward under her weight. Her breath brushed through the canvas.

“You don’t even know I’m here. You don’t even know what you’ve done to me.”

Her fingers slowly dragged down the fabric, claws barely restrained.

“But soon… you will.”