Page 106 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

Jalith has no idea what’s coming for him.

46

SEREN

Awhisper of silk brushes against my skin, an unnatural softness that does not belong. My body is sluggish, heavy, and when my fingers twitch against the sheets, chains rattle.

Cold steel bites into my wrists, shackles thin but unyielding. My ankles are bound too, the links stretching just enough for movement, it’s enough to remind me I am not free.

Memory crashes back in a rush of breath, Jalith. The cliff. The collar.

I jerk upright. The room spins, a whirlwind of deep reds and obsidian, gold accents gleaming in the soft glow of wall sconces. Not a dungeon.

A bedroom.

Lavish. Expansive.

A prison wrapped in luxury.

The air is thick with incense, a scent that clings to my throat, suffocating. The sheets beneath me are silk, dyed a deep, decadent crimson. A vanity stands against the wall, its mirror framed in ornate silver. Dresses in dark blues and blacks, not my colors, never my choice, are draped over chairs, waiting.

A queen’s chamber. A mate’s chamber.

My stomach lurches.

I fling the covers off, chains rattling as I stagger out of bed. My legs nearly buckle. Magic coils through my limbs, sinking into my bones, pressing down with invisible weight.

I snarl at it, at the collar locked tight against my throat. A spellwoven leash.

A slow clap echoes from the doorway.

Jalith.

He lounges against the doorframe, exuding effortless arrogance. His robes are draped lazily over one shoulder, exposing the sculpted lines of his chest. His silver hair is immaculate, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

Predator and prey.

"You're awake," he drawls. "I was beginning to worry."

I lunge.

The collar ignites.

A shock sears through me, white-hot agony. My knees give out before I can reach him. I crash to the floor, a cry tearing from my throat. My muscles convulse, locking, shaking, betraying me.

Jalith watches. Savors.

The pain fades, leaving me gasping.

He crouches before me, his fingers brushing my chin, tilting my face up. "You’ll learn, little one," he murmurs. "Your body already remembers."

I snap my teeth at him.

He laughs. Genuinely amused.

The chuckle slithers over my skin, setting every nerve on edge.

"You will make such a beautiful queen," he muses, brushing a strand of hair from my damp forehead. "Once you stop fighting me."

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