Page 111 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

Blood sprays across the dirt, and Grathor finally collapses.

The minotaurs erupt.

Warlord Khorgash watches from his seat, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"You fight like a beast, Naga King," he murmurs. "Perhaps you are one."

I wipe the blood from my mouth, stepping forward. “Then fight for me, Warlord.”

His lips curl.

"For a price."

I do not hesitate.

"Name it."

48

SEREN

Pain is an old companion, but this… this is something else entirely.

It slithers down my spine, a slow and insidious thing, coiling around my ribs before sinking its claws into my flesh. My knees slam against the cold marble floor of Jalith’s throne room, muscles spasming as another jolt tears through my body.

I refuse to scream.

The gathered dark elves watch in silence, their amusement veiled behind sharp, impassive faces. Their prince sits atop a lavish throne, legs crossed, fingers lazily drumming against the gilded armrest.

Jalith’s lips curl into something almost gentle.

"Still so stubborn, little one," he muses, his voice a silk-wrapped dagger. "I wonder how much longer you can last."

My teeth grind against the agony searing my bones, but I lift my chin, glaring at him through strands of sweat-dampened hair.

He wants submission. Wants me trembling. Wants my pride shattered into dust at his feet.

I will give him nothing.

A flick of his fingers. The magic woven into the collar constricts, dragging me forward until my palms slap against the floor. The pain does not come in waves. It is a drowning, a devouring. My body seizes, nerves set ablaze by unseen hands.

A sharp gasp escapes before I can swallow it down.

Jalith hums, pleased.

I will kill him.

I will carve that satisfaction from his face with my bare hands.

My vision blur. My breaths come in ragged gulps, sweat trickling down my back.

"You’re strong," he says, full of admiration, but it makes my stomach churn. "But everything breaks eventually."

I force my weight onto my heels, forcing my shaking limbs to hold me upright. The floor beneath me tilts, but I lock my spine, refusing to collapse.

Jalith’s amusement deepens.

He lifts his hand again.

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