Page 16 of Craving His Venom

Then I hear it: the distinct snap of undergrowth behind me, too deliberate to be an animal. My heart constricts. Someone must be tracking me. The panic grips me so fiercely that I spin to run—only to slam into something solid.

I look up and find Vahziryn towering over me. His presence in the moonlit jungle is nothing short of startling. The black scales on his forearms and tail shimmer with a faint emerald sheen, the same mesmerizing pattern that haunted my memory. His hair, loose and unbound, falls to his waist, glinting almostblue under the moonlight. The planes of his face remain rigid, jaw tight, eyes reflecting gold as they latch onto me.

My chest heaves, the shock so profound I can’t speak. It feels as though the entire jungle stills, waiting for his next move. I glimpse the curve of his claws, the lethal elegance of his serpentine body, and a wave of dizzying fear sweeps over me. My attempt to flee has failed utterly.

He doesn’t raise his voice. Instead, he speaks quietly, each word carrying a dangerous weight. “Did you think you could wander out here at night and not attract something more vicious than me?”

My pulse thrashes. “I— I had to leave. I can’t stay where people die for looking at someone wrong. Where the entire household cowers.” My words tumble out in a stammer, but I can’t stop them.

His eyes narrow, the pupils slitted. “No one died,” he counters, voice dry. “That fool Rahlazen still breathes.”

I swallow, remembering all too well the sight of his fangs sinking into the noble’s neck. “He might as well be a corpse if you wanted it. You’re...you’re capable of anything.”

A flicker of emotion crosses his face. I can’t tell if it’s fury or frustration. His tail stirs behind him, coiling in the undergrowth as though anchoring him to the spot. “And you believe running into the jungle at night is safer?” he demands.

The question stings, but I refuse to lower my gaze. “You attacked a noble,” I snap, somehow finding a shred of anger beneath my fear. “I don’t know what you plan to do next, or who else you’ll?—”

He exhales sharply, stepping closer. The proximity forces me to tilt my head back. Moonlight sketches his features in stark relief: the strong line of his nose, the austere beauty of his scaled cheeks, the tension brimming beneath his calm. “I am not going to harm you,” he says, voice low.

I shake my head, overwhelmed. “I can’t be sure of that.”

A dark current courses through his gaze. “Then let me make it clear.” With startling speed, he grasps my wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to halt any retreat. “You are part of my household, and I will not watch you wander blindly into a place that will devour you alive.”

My spine shivers. The jungle’s stillness wraps around us, each insect chirp suddenly amplified. “Why does it matter to you?” I whisper, feeling the raw edge of tears threaten to break free. “If I die out here, that’s one less burden for you.”

He snorts, a sound laced with bitterness. “A lesser mind might think that way, but I—” He catches himself, as if he’s on the verge of revealing something. Then he tightens his grip on my wrist, drawing me closer. “I have no intention of letting you die, or vanish.”

The statement unsettles me more than I can express. My breath comes in rapid bursts, and I notice his eyes dip to my parted lips, then rise to meet mine again, then back to my eyes, as though trying to gauge my reaction. If I didn’t know better, I might think there’s concern in that unreadable expression. But I do know better—he’s a naga lord with the power to end lives in a heartbeat. Compassion might simply be another method of control.

He shifts, sliding around me in a careful circle. I turn, heartbeat galloping, as I realize he’s using his coiled tail to block any attempt to flee again. The scaly length glints under the moon’s glow, thick and strong enough to crush tree limbs. A tremor travels down my spine.

“Enough running,” he says. “I’ll escort you back.”

My mouth opens, a protest forming, but he moves faster than I can speak. He steps behind me and wraps his tail around my waist, not squeezing but holding me in place. The sensation is disorienting. My feet remain on the ground, yet I feel the cordedpower of his coils pressing gently against my sides. It’s not painful, but it’s inescapable. My hands fly up, and I instinctively try to pry the scaled flesh away, though it’s useless.

“Stay still,” he murmurs, voice dangerously calm. “I have no desire to hurt you, but if you flail, you’ll only bruise yourself.”

I freeze, hating how my pulse quickens at the intimate contact. I’m painfully aware of his warmth, the movement of his breathing. The scales that brushed my arms feel both alien and strangely comforting, a contradiction that leaves me more confused than before.

A small voice in my mind warns me to remain alert—he could squeeze the life out of me in seconds. Another part of me wants to collapse into the strange safety of that hold. I breathe, trying to quiet the surge of contradictory emotions. My skin tingles everywhere he touches.

He begins guiding me through the thick foliage, the tail around my waist ensuring I can’t stray. Each step dislodges branches and leaves that cling to our legs. The sound of shifting vegetation rings in my ears. Under other circumstances, the close proximity might feel bizarrely intimate, but my nerves are too raw to dwell on that for long.

We travel deeper into the jungle for several paces, circumventing dense patches of brambles. I’m almost disoriented, expecting to be heading back to the manor, but he seems to be forging a new path. Eventually, he halts beside a massive tree with knotted roots that arch above the forest floor. The moonlight filters down in a pale beam, illuminating the trunk with ghostly clarity. He loosens his tail enough for me to breathe more easily, but he doesn’t release me entirely.

His eyes flick to my face. “Your ankle is hurt.” The remark startles me, and I follow his gaze to see that I’m limping slightly, wincing whenever my weight shifts.

I bite my lip. “I jumped off the wall. It’s...I can still walk.”

He draws in a breath as though exasperated. “Sit,” he commands, unwinding his tail. With a gentle but insistent press on my shoulder, he coaxes me to lower onto one of the raised roots. My heart pounds at the idea of letting him loom over me without escape, yet I’m too tired—and in too much pain—to resist.

He sinks to a crouch, robes rustling around his legs. His broad shoulders and imposing figure fill my vision, especially now that he’s closer to my eye level. I swallow, trying not to show how shaken I am. The tension between us hums, an invisible thread neither of us can break.

He examines my ankle, fingertips surprisingly careful as they probe the swollen area. I suck in a sharp breath when he presses a tender spot. “You shouldn’t put weight on it,” he mutters.

My cheeks burn. “I’ll manage.”

He scowls as though I’ve insulted him. “You ran out here with no plan. If I’d found you half an hour later, you could have been something’s prey, or you might have collapsed from exhaustion.”

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