• Hesitating at a distant scream, he slows to a stop to listen. That wasn’t you. Wasn’t from his lair. Needs to believe that. To will it to be true. They can’t have found him. Been so careful. But he’s still transforming, scrambling as fast as he can on his many legs. They didn’t find him or you. You’re safe. Have to be. Spark aching as he pushes himself as fast as he can go, he spots a dark vehicle in the cemetery. And Ghost agents dragging you toward it.

• Flushing as the guy who made the comment swears and laughs, the other one’s fingers are bruising on your upper arm. ‘Really? You’re seriously fucking one of them?’ He sneers. Refuse to let him shame you for loving Tarantulas. He’s sweet and so gentle. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Mouth opening, your voice is lost at a roar from the trees. Skin crawling, that sound isn’t anything human, a scream of hatred and outrage snarling with engine noise. And one the of the men holding you jolts, dropping you to claw frantically at his face. At the webbing covering it and suffocating him.

• Their hands are on you. Took you from your home, where you’re safe. Took his mate. Hurting you. Knocking a weapon aside, one man screams when he grabs him by the front of his clothes and throws him into a tombstone. And the last one drags you in front of his body. Using you as a shield as he transforms and straightens, rising up on his extra limbs. So furious he’s snarling a demand to let you go in his own language.

• You take it back. Your big, spider-man isn’t a pushover at all. He’s kind of scary and hot both right now. Heart racing as the guy holding you tries to keep you between himself and Tarantulas, you watch your alien boyfriend’s mandibles flex as he snarls gibberish. Even without understanding him, the subtext is loud and clear. This guy is about to die horribly if he doesn’t let go of you. And the guy holding you shifts his arm where it’s hooked around your neck. Putting himself in reach, so you bite down as hard as you can aware of Tarantulas lunging for you.

• Hooking his extra limbs against you, he drags you to him and his hand closes on the human’s throat as he hauls the man off the ground. Watching the man kick and claw at his servos before his attention dips to you. Using an extra limb, he cuts through the plastic binding your wrists and you throw your arms around his neck before he can check you over. Hissing softly when the man chokes and grunts, he wants to squeeze. See how much force it would take to pop the man’s head off his shoulders. The only thing stopping him? You. Doesn’t want you to know what he’s capable of. What he’ll do to protect you. “Go inside. Grab what you can. We’re moving,” he growls, lowering you to the ground. “Go,” he repeats gentling his tone as he reaches with his free hand to cup your cheek, servos stroking. How long until more Ghost agents show up? And what to do with these three?

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