Page 4 of Bitten By the Basilisk

As Basilisk and the host of this year’s mating festival, demonstrating his nest’s prosperity and strength would be paramount, both to attract visiting serpent-folk singles and deter any would-be rivals who might challenge him for his position.

For months, he and his staff had been arranging generous accommodations for their visitors and planning a series of events where potential mates could judge each other’s fitness.

The festival would conclude with a gala where eligible attendees performed a public mating display for their chosen partner—or partners, on occasion. If their potential mate accepted them, said mating display more often than not continued in private.

His father had made it crystal clear that Silas would participate in the festival as well as oversee it, strongly implying that he should secure a mate. Never mind that Silas had already met practically every unattached serpent-folk on the East Coast and desired none of them.

When he drove into the underground garage beneath the building that contained his penthouse, two of his staff stood waiting for him in front of the elevator.

Within the nest, they served as his lieutenants—his right and left hands, helping him protect the nest and manage its affairs. To everyone else, they were especially dedicated personal assistants. As usual, Nicolai wore a placid expression, Bruno a gloomy one.

He pulled up beside them and shut off his engine.

“What could possibly have gone wrong in the ten minutes since I left the office?” Silas asked as soon as he removed his helmet.

In preparation for the festival, he had cleared his calendar as the managing director of his family’s company, Stone Mining Group. However, one of the company’s foremen had insisted on meeting with him today, which had lasted most of the afternoon.

“Your father asked that we intercept you,” Nic said, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. Like all serpent-folk in the colder months, he was dressed warmly, preferring turtlenecks and wool trench coats, whereas Bruno opted for jeans and thick, hooded sweatshirts beneath a black denim jacket.

“More like ‘ordered,’” Bruno muttered, crossing his arms. “Is he retired or not?”

Silas sighed as he swung off his ride. “Did he say why he needs my immediate presence?”

“No, but the group from Rhode Island that just arrived came with one more in their party than what they had agreed to send,” Nicolai explained.

“An eligible female, barely of age,” Bruno said disapprovingly. “We suspect they were informed that you’ll be seeking a mate this year, and are vying to secure a stronger alliance.”

“And the bride-dowry,” Nic added.

Silas closed his eyes with a mental groan, already knowing what his father intended to say to him. “Start wooing her before any rivals get the chance.”

The beautiful tourist appeared before his mind’s eye. Would he see her again? He hadn’t thought to observe whether she was traveling with anyone, having been too focused on memorizing her face.

He was slated to spend a great deal of time overseeing the mating festival over the coming days, but in between events, eligible serpent-folk were expected to take their favored candidate on a series of dates, so the odds of running into her weren’t zero…

“Who am I kidding?” he said under his breath, remembering the panicked expression of the last normie to witness his true nature. The town’s magic had kicked in, rewriting her memories enough for him to send her back to her hotel room none the wiser, and she had gone home the next day. If she thought of him at all, she likely considered their relationship to be a fling.

When he opened his eyes again, he caught Nic and Bruno exchanging a solemn glance that ended the instant he spoke.

“I should get cleaned up, then.” He strode past them to call the elevator, which opened immediately. “Let him know I’m on my way.”

“That reminds me, I booked you some time at Renart later this evening,” Nic said as he and Bruno joined him in the elevator.

Bruno tapped his arm with his fist. “Gotta look pretty for the festival.”

The prospect of a little solitude at a spa normally would’ve been welcome—and it was—but Silas would be going to soak in the sand bath and ensure his scales looked their best ahead of the festival’s welcoming banquet. The glossier the tail, the more attractive he would be to potential mates.

“Can’t wait,” Silas muttered.

The din of a casual gathering taking place in the second-floor lounge filtered into the elevator as it rose, then poured in as the doors opened into a hallway out of sight of those gathered.

“Boss,” Bruno said in farewell as he and Nic exited.

Silas then ascended to his penthouse apartment for a quick shower and a more appropriate outfit for receiving the first of several waves of guests who would be arriving over the next twenty-four hours, some from as far as the Southern states.

Normally, the nest consisted of just over a hundred serpent-folk. During the festival, however, that number would more than double, at least a few of whom would be observing him and weighing the chance of winning a challenge against him.

“Bring it on,” he said to his reflection, having changed into a three-piece steel-gray suit perfectly tailored to display his wide shoulders and long limbs.