I want to consume him. Or maybe I want him to consumeme.
Will he?
He’s everything that I imagined. Dark, dizzying, and beautiful—even wicked. I’d never known a human could look wicked, but Drazak does. How is that possible? Drazak resembles a dark, fiendish male that had come from the shadows itself. And hadn’t he? I found him in the darkest place I’d ever been, and I swear it isn’t smoke coming from the jewel on his brow—it is darkness. Like he creates it.
But will he want me like I want him? He’s been erect for as long as I’ve known him… Is it only because of the strings that bind us, or can he want me for me? Making a male erect… It is a symbol of excitement for the females of my tribe. Even the mermaids love priming the few human males they know.
And Drazak is erect—primed—for me. Because of me.
I’m not the youngest or most beautiful female of my tribe. I’m not even the youngest or most beautiful of my two sisters. I may be a better huntress, but I can’t cook, my sewing is atrocious, and my craftwork is wanting. I’m the one sent to gather wild fruit and forage for supplies, not to actually make something with those supplies that betters the tribe.
Will he be ashamed of me if we get out of here and he sees me? Really sees me in comparison to the other females, ones he could have been mated to?
I feel my heart sink.
I want Drazak so badly it hurts. I’m wet and aching for him, but I shouldn’t be. It takes effort not to climb onto his lap and have him. My cheeks warm.
I want everything a mate could offer me—to never be alone at night again, to feel whatever tremendous way the other females feel when they’re being rutted.
I’ve never had the sexual training given to the other females—lessons in what to expect to happen after a mating ceremony, but I’ve heard and seen enough to know. That a male’s cock goes into me repeatedly—that there is discomfort and a lot of pleasure during it—that there is an intense burst of bliss. A bliss that couldn’t be had solely by rubbing your fingers between your legs in the middle of the night.
I wipe my arm across my brow. I’m clenching just thinking about Drazak filling that spot between my legs. The ones my fingers have only dared enter a couple times before, and only out of curiosity.
But will he still want me once he knows there are others, more worthier females?
My heart quakes. I don’t know why I’m worrying about it so much.
It doesn’t feel right. That I have lucked into this bond when others have died for it…
I will have to prove thatI amworthy of it.
I glance to the right and behind me toward where the fire should be—but I no longer see it. It gives me a moment of panic. Then I find a distant glow dancing behind some large rocks, one that’s barely perceptible. But itisthere and he is safe.
Moving full circle, I scan my surroundings, realizing I’m much further into the cavern than I have been before. Checking my weapon, I place my back to the fire’s light, and continue, keeping an eye on the ground for kindling.
The cave around me slowly changes. Each step is chillier than the last. The coastal tribes only have a short cold season, so we rarely wear our shawls and high sandals, but right now, I wish I had them. Being cold is not something I’m used to.
Something moves in the corner of my eyes, and I twist toward it, stilling, as I watch a long centiworm scurry across the ground. A small shriek escapes. The worm vanishes into the dark. I shake out my body in disgust.
Waters, I hope Drazak didn’t hear.I shake again and continue forward, now watching the ground more diligently. The ground is now dirt and roots, differing from the rocks and slate near the fire. There’ll be more critters here. The soles of my sandals sink in the softer ground.
The wall I follow turns inward toward me, ending in a bend. The ceiling has lowered and it’s right above my head now. I press my palm to it, moving forward. In a few steps, I have to hunker so I don’t brush the rocks above.
I’m crouching when I see the edges of rootlike shapes appear. A pile of them. Thrusting my torch toward the roots, my brow furrows.
Dirty and pale, brown and gray, I realize what I’ve found aren’t roots at all, but bones. Bones in an array of decay. I stop, listening to the sounds of the cave.
The naga’s den? Or something else’s?
I wave my light closer.
The bones are small, with only a couple unintrusive larger ones. Femurs, thighs, wing shards. Most look like bird bones with a couple of cockatrice mixed in. Maybe some reptilians. There are several spines I’m certain are lizards and one small crocodile skull. Nothing that would pose a threat to a predator, not even a small one.
The naga boy is small. This could be his home.
I pull away and wave my torch about the den to get a better look. There are more bones scattered ahead of me, and I carefully step over them. Deeper in, I see that the cave comes to an abrupt stop. It’s also much cleaner back here, even the ground is level and packed tight. There are shadows of things further in.
I crouch even lower to reach them. Stopping once to cautiously peer behind me before I do.
