Page 11 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

Xirath leans against one of the carved pillars, bathed in moonlight, golden eyes gleaming in the darkness. His tail coils beside him, not blocking my path but reminding me that he doesn't need to.

He lets the silence drag between us, long enough to force me to acknowledge it.

"Perhaps you misheard me earlier," I say, turning slowly. "I don't belong to you."

His expression remains unreadable, but something dangerous flickers beneath it.

He pushes away from the pillar, crossing the distance between us in a slow, effortless glide, his body moving with the lethal grace of something that has never been hunted.

He stops just short of me, tilting his head slightly. "You’re right."

I blink.

He steps closer. "You don't belong to me."

The heat of his presence presses against me, something primal stretching between us like a rope pulled too tight.

"But," he continues, his voice lower now, "you are in my kingdom. You are in my home. And you are in my way."

I narrow my eyes. “Your way?”

His gaze drops slightly, not in submission. He is watching the pulse at my throat. Calculating. Considering.

"You will not survive out there," he says smoothly, nodding toward the jungle. "Not before my guards catch you. Not before something else does."

I don't let him see the ripple of doubt that drags its claws down my spine.

The jungle is alive in ways I don't understand. And I am not foolish enough to believe it is merciful.

But staying is worse.

Xirath watches me for another breath, then exhales slowly, shaking his head. "You are stubborn."

"You are arrogant," I return.

His amusement is sharp. "So I have been told."

He moves then, slow, deliberate, his tail curling around me, not restraining, not quite touching, but caging me in place with something far more dangerous than steel.

I feel the change before he speaks again.

"You have one night to decide," he murmurs.

My fingers tighten into fists. "Decide what?"

His golden gaze holds mine, unwavering. "If you would rather be my guest or my prisoner."

A thrill of fury laces through me.

"I am not your prisoner," I bite out.

Xirath leans forward just slightly, his forked tongue flickering out once, so brief, so subtle, I might have imagined it. But the slight twitch of his jaw, the flicker of his pupils, he just tasted something.

A lie.

His smirk is slow, deliberate. "Then you have nothing to fear."

I grit my teeth as he steps back, the absence of his presence more frustrating than the threat itself.

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