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You were a young psychologist, new to the field, having just graduated college. Working in an asylum wasn’t your ideal job, but hey, everyone had to start somewhere. You spent your first week on the job getting used to the environment and reading patient files. You had been assigned to Miguel O’Hara, a scientist who had used himself as a human test subject for his spider/human hybrid DNA experiment. The DNA mix hadn’t gone well, resulting in the murder of seven other scientists in the building before Miguel had been captured and detained.
You stood in front of the one way mirror, observing Miguel in the white padded room. He was sitting in a chair, arms bound by a straitjacket. There was a restraint around his waist that secured him to the chair. His head was bowed, leaving you to stare at the top of his brown hair. You clicked your tongue thoughtfully, and his head shot up, his eyes boring into yours through the one way mirror. How did he hear - How can he see me?
You looked down at your clipboard, where Miguel’s pre-experiment photo smirked up at you. Apparently, the experiment had turned his eyes red, although it had no effect on his muscle tone. His strong frame was all human. He was kind of… attractive. You blushed at the thought. This man was your patient, not to mention insane. You couldn’t think these things about him.
Taking a deep breath, you shook off the thought and opened the door. Miguel’s eyes tracked you as you entered, a small smirk creeping onto his face. You sat down in the chair opposite him, trying to ignore the lustful look on his face.
“Good morning, Mr. O’Hara,” you said as professionally as you could. “How are you this morning?”
“You’re new.” Miguel ran his tongue over his fangs. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I started last week. You’re my first patient,” you explained. The smirk on his face grew bigger. You shouldn’t have found his smile as attractive as you did.
“And they assigned you to me,” he said lazily, leaning back in his chair. “Lucky you.” He didn’t seem at all bothered by the straitjacket, his body language suggesting that he was choosing to be in the asylum.
“Do you know why I’m here?” you asked, getting back to your job. Your question shifted something in his eyes.
“You’re here because they think I’m crazy,” Miguel growled. His laidback attitude had vanished. “But I’m not.”
“Mr. O’Hara, you injected yourself with the DNA of a spider, then killed seven people,” you pointed out. “That’s grounds for insanity.”
“The spider DNA made me kill them,” Miguel hissed. “That makes me a spider, not crazy.”
“Okay, it’s okay,” you tried to reassure him. “I’m not here to judge you.” His posture relaxed again.
“I’ve seen many doctors, but none of them were as beautiful as you are,” Miguel mused. “So small, so fragile. Like a little doll. Mi mu ñ eca .” His eyes looked almost predatory.
You blushed at the pet name, but tried to stay on topic. “Mr. O’Hara, can you tell me more about how the spider DNA gave you the urge to kill people?”
“After my DNA mixed with the spider’s, there was a… fire in my hands, in my head,” Miguel drawled. “I needed to feel human flesh. The first dead body underneath my hands satiated me, but not enough. I needed more.”
“Do you still feel this way now?” you asked.
“I feel this way all the time,” Miguel snarled. “The more time I spend locked up, the more my hands burn.”
“Why did you feel like murder was your only option?”
“Oh, mi muñeca. They called me crazy even before I did my experiment. ‘Spider/human hybrid DNA is not possible’, they said,” Miguel sighed. “They disgraced me. I got my revenge.”
“So it wasn’t just the spider DNA that made you want to kill,” you reasoned. “It was also your human side.”
“I did what I had to do!” Miguel nearly yelled. His rapid mood swings were starting to give you whiplash. He tried to stand, but the restraint around his hips kept him firmly rooted to his seat.
“It’s okay, Mr. O’Hara. Take a deep breath,” you soothed him, trying to calm him down. Surprisingly, he followed your order, glaring down at his lap.
After a few deep breaths, he looked back at you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you, muñeca.”
“Please don’t call me that,” you said. You told yourself it was to maintain some level of professionalism. It definitely wasn’t because your heart beat a little faster whenever he called you that.
“What? Muñeca?” he said mockingly, his velvet voice stirring something in you. “But you like it when I do.”
“I don’t,” you stuttered. “I’m your doctor, and you’re my patient. We need to have a level of decorum.”
“What would you prefer I call you, hmm?” he teased. “Amor? Querido? Cariño?”
“Miguel, please stay on topic,” you asserted weakly, your trembling voice losing all its power. His stupid, handsome face shouldn’t have this effect on you.
“You’re right, you’re right. Lo siento,” Miguel apologized, though his grin told you he didn’t really mean it. “I’ll let you work.”
“Right, erm...” You looked at your clipboard, frazzled, trying to get your thoughts back to your job and away from the way his hair was falling just right into his eyes. “Beside your desire for revenge, what is it that draws you to killing?”
“I like to feel the warmth of their skin under my hands before I make it go cold. I like the life in their eyes and watching it burn out.” Miguel closed his eyes, reliving the feeling. His arms moved inside of the straitjacket like he was killing those scientists all over again. How did he make murder sound so… so tender?
“Is there a way you could satisfy that feeling without killing people?” you prompted.
His eyes darted around, suddenly on guard. “No doctor has ever asked me that,” he admitted slowly. “They didn’t care about treating me. They just wanted to figure out why I did what I did so they could write their little papers and receive praise from their peers. You’re the first one to actually care .”
Your heart cracked a little at his statement. “That’s awful. You didn’t deserve doctors like that. I care about you, and I’m here to help you.” The way he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes set off butterflies in your stomach. You quickly looked back at your papers. “You said you liked the warmth of their skin. Can you explain more about that?”
“When I felt their skin, before I killed them, it made me feel less alone,” he confessed. “My job takes up - used to take up - all of my time. I worked for months without a break, and slowly all my friends left me because they never saw me anymore.”
“What about family?” you pressed.
He shook his head. “I have no family.”
Your heart shattered for him. He was just touch starved, and went about it in the wrong way. Tenderly, you offered your hand to him, holding it by his face since his arms were covered by the straitjacket. He looked at it for a moment, then gingerly placed his chin in your hand. Once he deemed it safe, he nuzzled his cheek into your hand, a small sigh escaping him.
“How do you feel?” you asked, letting him relax into your palm.
“Your touch,” Miguel breathed. “You’re so soft. So delicate. Mi muñeca.”
“Does this give you the feeling of warm skin that you need without having to kill someone?” You tried to ignore the pet name, despite the heat it sent through your core.
“Si, mi querida,” Miguel groaned, gently kissing your palm. You stifled a gasp. “Please, let me feel you. I need to feel your arms around me.” You awkwardly maneuvered yourself to hug Miguel, who was still tied to his chair.
“It’s not enough,” Miguel hissed. “Take this restraint off. Let me stand. I need your touch.”
You hesitated, but if hugging him was what he needed to keep from murder, it was a small price to pay. Besides, he was still in the straitjacket. He was still under control. You quickly undid the restraint around his hips. He stood slowly, moving his arms to find comfort in the straitjacket. It wasn’t until he reached his full height that you realized how much he towered over you. It hadn’t been as noticeable when you were sitting. You looked up at him, taking in his powerful frame. Even through the straitjacket you could see his muscles.
“Like what you see?” He raised an eyebrow at you, catching you staring. You blushed again. You wrapped your arms around him, your head barely coming up to his chest. He curled into you, his arms still fidgeting. He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, mi amor.”
You pulled away from him, your brow furrowing. “For what?”
“For this.” In one motion, Miguel forced the straitjacket open. His hands, now free, reached out and grabbed you. He held you close to him, breathing in your scent. You screamed. An alarm rang out through the facility, alerting the security staff.
“I finally have you in my arms. You’re mine,” Miguel growled. “No one is going to take you away from me.” He pulled your head back to expose your neck, sank his fangs into your skin, and injected you with his venom. After a moment, he pulled away, lips dripping with your blood.
Your scream petered out as the venom entered your bloodstream. A strange haze clouded your head. Miguel wants me. He loves me. He wants to be with me forever. You went limp in his arms, a dreamy smile on your face as you thought about his perfect hair, his perfect voice, his perfect face.
“You’re mine, muñeca,” Miguel murmured, carefully placing you in his chair. He ripped the straitjacket off and quickly slid it onto you, tying it in place. Your mind was too consumed with thoughts of Miguel to resist.
Guards burst through the door, wielding tranquilizer guns and tasers. “Freeze!” One of them yelled. “Step away from the girl.” Miguel hissed, shielding you with his body. You heard a shot and dimly looked up, just in time to see Miguel rip a tranq dart from his arm and send it clattering to the ground. Another guard attempted to shoot him but missed. You felt a sharp pain in your arm. Miguel snarled and tore the tranq out of your arm, leaving a tiny hole in the straitjacket. He seemed to have no problem when the tranq dart hit him, but when it hit you, he went feral.
Miguel launched himself at the nearest guard, teeth bared and claws out. He leapt from guard to guard, tearing out their throats with his teeth and slashing them across the chest for good measure. Darts flew across the room, which he nimbly dodged. Within a minute, he was back at your side.
“I’m here, querida,” Miguel said, picking you up. “Keep your eyes on me.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him. He smells so good .
He began picking his way around the dead guards on the floor, making his way out of the room. More guards and nurses rushed in to subdue him. He made quick work of them, tucking you closer to him so he could rip out their throats without having to put you down. He pushed his way through the doors and bright sunlight hit your face. Miguel took in a deep breath and sighed. “It’s been too long since I’ve had fresh air.” You stirred in his arms, looking up at him lovingly through the venom haze.
“Don’t worry amor, I’ll get you out of here.” Miguel carried you over to a car and set you down on the hood. He held you in place with one hand while the other smashed the driver’s side window. He unlocked the car and buckled you into the passenger seat. As he backed out of the parking space and sped onto the road, you started feeling the effects of the tranquilizer dart. Black dots crept into your eyes and your eyes dimmed, slowly succumbing to the sedative.
When you woke up, you were still in the car. Your mind was still fuzzy. You tried to rub your eyes, but your arms didn’t move. You realized that you were in a straitjacket. You felt a hand in your hair, stroking it absently. You followed the arm to see Miguel in the driver’s seat, wearing black pants and a blue tee that clung to his well defined torso, showing off his chest and abs. He pulled the car into the parking lot of a strange building and turned off the car.
“Miguel? What’s going on?” you asked. “What happened?”
“You’re awake! Finally,” Miguel exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. “I thought that the sedative meant for me was too strong for you. Drink this. It’ll help with the effects of the tranquilizer.” He held a small bottle to your mouth. Your mind was still foggy so you complied. Within seconds, the sedative-induced haze cleared and you remembered what had occurred.
“Oh God,” you panicked. “What did I do? What did you do?”
“Amor, relax,” Miguel reassured you. “It’s okay. We’re together now.”
“Together?” you shrieked. “Miguel, I am your doctor. I can’t be with you!”
“Why not?”
“Because! Whatever feelings you have for me aren’t real. They’re induced by your spider DNA. And because I don’t have feelings for you! Your venom acted as an aphrodisiac and falsified romantic feelings for you while it was in my bloodstream. I am not attracted to you,” you spat at him.
Miguel stopped and grabbed your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. He leaned down so your faces were only a few inches apart. “ You lie. ”
“What?” you stuttered.
“You lie,” he repeated. “My venom isn’t an aphrodisiac. It’s an enhancer.” An enhancer… an enhancer… his words bounced around your skull.
“No. No!” You struggled against the straitjacket, but Miguel wrapped his hand around your throat and kept you pinned to the seat.
“You want me just as much as I want you. I could smell it the instant you walked through the door,” Miguel whispered. “That’s why you helped me escape. Deep down, you want me.”
“I didn’t mean to help you escape!” you cried. “I felt bad for you!” To your surprise, Miguel let out a chuckle.
“I knew you would believe that pathetic story.”
Your head shot up. “...What?”
“Oh pretty doctor, help me! None of the other doctors ever treated me right. I’m so lonely, all my friends abandoned me,” Miguel mocked. “All it took was a few pet names and a sob story and I had you in the palm of my hand.” Your eyes widened. He had played you like a fool.
“So that whole thing was fake. Why kidnap me?”
“I never said my feelings for you were fake. When you walked in that door, your pheromones practically assaulted me. You smelled so good, I knew I had to have you.” Miguel’s red eyes bored into you, lust radiating off of him in waves. “And now, I get to have you. Forever.”
“If you want me forever, take this thing off of me,” you said, twisting around in the straitjacket.
“Oh no, cariño,” Miguel growled. “You’ll just run away. And while I love a chase, I have better plans.” He got out of the car and crossed to your side, unbuckling you and picking you up. You screamed and thrashed around in his arms, but he tightened his grip on you and carried you into the building. Out of the corner of your eye, you could barely read the sign that read Spider Society Insane Asylum.
“What are we doing here?” you stopped screaming to ask. Miguel ignored you, walking up to the front desk.
“Hi there, how can I help you?” The friendly receptionist greeted him.
“This is my wife,” Miguel explained. “She was diagnosed as clinically insane. I was treating her at home because her previous doctor thought that staying in an asylum would only agitate her further, but she’s only gotten worse.”
“Oh, of course,” the receptionist sympathized. “Poor thing.”
“Wait, wait! I’m not insane,” you struggled against Miguel’s strong arms.
“She’s been saying that since she was diagnosed,” Miguel said with fake pity. “The doctor said one of her symptoms was lack of recognition of her condition. Do you have any type of apartment where I can stay with her full time? She gets riled up sometimes, and I’m the only one who can calm her down.”
“You’re in luck. We recently had one of our long term apartments vacated. Let me show you to the room so you can get her settled, then you can fill out all the paperwork.” The receptionist stood, leading Miguel deeper into the asylum.
“Wait! Help me, please! I’m not insane,” you begged the woman. “He kidnapped me. I’m a doctor. He was my patient. He injected himself with spider DNA!” The receptionist only looked at you pityingly. With a jolt, you realized that you did, indeed, sound insane, especially paired with your straitjacket. “I swear I’m telling the truth. He killed so many people!”
“I’m sorry for her,” Miguel apologized to the woman. “She has hallucinations.”
“It’s okay, we see patients like this all the time,” the receptionist reassured him. “Here we are. Your new long term apartment.” She opened the door to reveal a small, but nice, apartment. The only thing out of the ordinary were the restraints on the bed, clearly meant for outbursts and fits of mania. Miguel thanked the woman as he carried you into the room.
“Once you get her settled, come to the front to fill out the paperwork,” the receptionist requested. Miguel nodded and she left, closing the door behind her. Miguel sat you down on the bed despite your struggles and secured a restraint around your waist.
“Calm down, querida,” Miguel said fondly, stroking your hair. “This is the only way we can be together. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want me ?” You pulled away from his hand.
“No! I don’t want that! You really thought your only option to be with me was to kidnap me and put me in an insane asylum?” you shrieked. “You could have, I don’t know, asked me out to dinner! Or to get coffee!”
“Would you have said yes?” Miguel challenged, locking eyes with you. You looked away from him. You found him attractive, yes, but you could never have gone out with him, simply because he was your patient. You couldn’t break your oath like that. Miguel sensed your answer and sighed. “That’s what I thought. So this was the only way.”
“You can’t keep me here forever,” you warned. Miguel chuckled.
“Oh mi vida, haven’t you learned by now? I can do whatever I want.” He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you closer to him, eliciting a squeak from you. Keeping his hand planted on your throat, he used his other hand to pull your head to the side and expose your neck. It felt like deja vu as he sank his fangs into your skin.
The venom rushing into your bloodstream felt familiar this time, the haze clouding your mind and enhancing your attraction tenfold. “Miguel, please,” you begged, already slipping into the haze. “Miguel…”
“You’re mine, and I’m yours,” Miguel growled, pulling away from your neck. He tipped your head up and crashed his lips into yours. He kissed like a man starved, his passion, lust, and desire surging into you. You closed your eyes and melted into him. You loved him. You were his. You wanted to be with him forever. Just when you were about to run out of air, though you could kiss him forever, he broke the kiss, running his tongue over his fangs with a smirk.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” Miguel groaned. Kissing your forehead, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “I need to finish talking to the receptionist. I’ll be back, cariño.” He left the room to finish the paperwork that would seal your life away with him. You fell back onto the bed, his voice echoing through your ears.
“I’m going to take care of you forever.”