her flesh beneath my hands as I hold her tight to me, and the sound of her sighs and moans muffled against my lips.
My ear twitches, pivoting toward a sharp, cracking sound just as Grimsal shouts. His bellow is cut off by a heavy crash and I spin around, tucking my mate behind me as I stare at the source of the commotion. I draw in a deep breath, my eyes widening as I spy the one thing I had hoped to avoid with my mate vulnerable and out in the open. A tremor of aggression runs through me as I lower my head in challenge.
I know what he wants, and he will not have her!
The large naga male stares back at me, his tongue flickering. Although I have never had the occasion to see a male of the species, if we had to meet one, he is, without a doubt, the worst-case scenario.
A royal naga, the largest of the male breeds, he towers over Grimsal’s limp form hanging from his hands. His tongue flicks out, his head turning toward me, and I know exactly what has drawn him—who he has scented. I stiffen in rage, my eyes taking in the enormous tail that sweeps the ground around him. His humanoid fae parts are not as big as the serpentine tail, but even they are twice my size, massive even when compared to the largest of orcs.
As if knowing that he’s an intimidating sight, he smiles at me, showing his long, dangerous fangs. He turns so that the heavy, formidable gold scaling on his side, arms, back, and even along his jaws and forehead catches the light, attempting to intimidate. He knows that he is powerful, perhaps the most dangerous thing in these woods. His only extravagance appears to lay in the long, burnished bronze hair that hangs down his back in multitudes of braids.
“I smell her. Give her to me,” he hisses. “I know who you are, unicorn. I know you dishonored my sister. You will return to her keep, and I will be taking your sweet-smelling female.”
“Oh, hell the fuck no,” Steph croaks behind me, gripping my forearm tight.
I twist out of her grip and take a step away as I draw the magic of the water around me with every movement. Once I am certain that I am far enough away to not harm my mate, I burst forward, drawing my fetch form around me on the run as I charge and leap, my hooves kicking through the water that spins around me to fly toward the naga.
He roars at the impact of the water crashing into him, but I do not wait for any other opening. I twist through the air, my head down as I ram into the male with all my strength, my horn white-hot with magic that makes it not unlike a burning lance.
A violent snarl cuts through the air, and his heavy coils slap around me, attempting to crush me or break my spine. With the pool’s magic still racing around me, it muffles his blows, transferring the energy into me, strengthening me. I jab again with my horn, feeling another spurt of blood, and suddenly the coils slip free and release me as the male hisses in pain.
Blinking the blood that has dripped down from my horn out of my eyes, I turn my head toward the naga and am forced to look up to see the male half-coiled in the height of the tree above us. Blood streams down from a tender spot at the joint of his arm and shoulder and again from his hip. His green eyes burn down at me, but there’s also humility there as he inclines his head submissively and withdraws, his coils following him higher and deeper into the trees.
Tucking my head down against my chest so that my horn is stretched out lethally before me, I rear up in obvious threat, a bellow of challenge issuing from my lungs.
He stills, his eyes focusing on me before turning toward my mate, who is still shielded behind my body. Those eyes blink slowly, and he drops his head lower, blending into the depths of the dark shadows.
“My mistake. It seems that I was misinformed,” he hisses as he departs.
“You think?” Steph shouts after him and shakes her head with disgust, her hands fisting on her hips. “I guess your charms have no bounds, since the innkeeper sent muscle after us. I wonder what all she