two pricks emerging from his body. I remember the way I turned toward him, dropping my hands from my chest.
When it happened, I’d been well aware of what happened between a male and female when they rutted for some time. I had also become far too aware of my own desires… That the male in all my fantasies never changed.
It is always him.
A naga. A creature no sane female should fantasize about. A beast of the jungle, a primal monster born of a snake and human in the time when dragons still ruled Venys. Part-serpent, part-man, a being with two cocks…
That day on the beach, I discovered his desire for me was as strong as mine for him. It was then I finally understood why I spent my childhood trailing him.
He’s mine.
Mine.
I hated Aunt Milaye for years because she was close to Iskursu while I wasn’t. I never understood why until that day, realizing that I’d been jealous of her. Jealous that she could have this bond with him when I couldn’t. Jealous that she had two males in her life when so many females didn’t even have one. I knew Milaye treated Iskursu as a son, not as a lover, that her bond with him was of motherly affection… I just didn’t care.
She had what I wanted most: my male.
That day on the beach was a revelation. One I think about nightly. Over the years, I’d learned two things. First, I had to stop hating Milaye, and second, Iskursu was mine. I didn’t care that he was a different species than me, and I’d already decided that I wouldn’t care what anyone else thought about it either, especially Father.
No one was going to stop Iskursu and I from being together. Except perhaps… Iskursu.
I sigh and peer around once more. When I don’t see him hidden amongst the trees, I step onto the next branch.
If he’s hunting me, let him. It didn’t matter because now I’m hunting him back.
Four years ago, I went to Iskursu on the beach, baring my body to him. I walked to him slowly, begging under my breath that he wouldn’t flee. When he didn’t slither away, I found myself standing within arm’s reach of him. I couldn’t believe it.
He curled his emerald and ruby scaled snaketail around me, and my toes had wiggled in the sand. He came closer until the tips of his pricks brushed my stomach.
He hissed my name, his voice deep. The sound vibrated my flesh. It burrowed into my ears and reached my soul. Hearing his voice—hearing him claim my name—tightened my throat. Butterflies filled my belly. My slit ached to be claimed.
He knew my name.
“Iskursu,” I said back to him. I knew his.
His slitted yellow eyes bore into mine, and I relaxed, thinking he was finally mine. That I’d finally caught him. I was ready. So ready. Ready to leave my tribe, to follow him into the jungle. Ready to take his weight, his seed. I was ready to hunt with him as a team and not in parallel.
I had placed my palms on his chest and leaned into him, not realizing how wrong I was.
Because he picked me up by his tail, throwing me into the ocean. By the time I emerged, he was gone. I had never cursed so much in my life.
And I haven’t been the same since.
If I thought it was hard to track him before that day, it was nothing compared to tracking him when he truly didn’t want to be found. Not even Milaye was able to locate him.
He vanished.
Except he didn’t. I sensed him near me, always, but as a ghost and nothing more. I even placed myself in apparent danger, trying to lure him out, and he never did. He knew when I was faking it.
He only ever came if I truly needed him, and unfortunately, I’m a great huntress—with dragon senses—and it only happened twice. I also wasn’t stupid, never putting myself in real danger to get closer to him.
There would be no claiming between us if one of us were dead.
But this… I glance at the tree I’d jumped from and brace to leap toward the next. Iskursu would never leave such an obvious trail.
I pause. “Naga boy,” I call out tauntingly. I’d gone quite a ways, and my palms were burning from gripping bark. “What are you planning?”
I get no answer.
He’s near. Despite his silence, he’s very close to me.
I find the next branch along his trail, and a