The air outside the nest was sharp and damp, the kind of thick forest humidity that clung to the skin and made every breath feel heavy. Lyssra led the way along the thick silk rope-bridges that webbed between the trees, her abdomen swaying behind her, her human half bare and streaked with drying cum. Behind her, the rest of the brood followed, still marked from the nest — thighs trembling, chitin smeared, their scent heavy and hot in the night air.
Allen moved in the center, a predator among predators, his steps silent despite the damp leaves. He could feel their eyes on him, every brood-sister's attention tuned sharp to his movements. The hunt wasn't just about food tonight. This was a show — a public claiming that would leave every spider in this forest knowing who commanded the brood.
