Page 13 of Craving His Venom

They spring into motion, scurrying to bar the doors and close the windows. Two guards rush to Rahlazen’s side, glancing at me for direction. I jerk my chin. “Take him to the guest chambers. Keep him alive, but do not let him wander. I’ll decide his fate when I choose.”

They nod, hauling him up and dragging him out of the hall. His moans echo off the walls, then fade. The hush that lingers is thick enough to taste. My gaze sweeps the room, landing on Mira. She stares at me with wide eyes, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Something in her expression twists my insides. Shock, fear, confusion...and maybe a hint of something else I can’t name.

Fury still pumps through my veins, though it has shifted into a wild realization of the risk I’ve taken. I just assaulted a noble visitor in my own domain, all because he insulted a servant. A human. The very notion stuns me. I clench my fists, trying to regain composure.

“Everyone out,” I say in a low tone. “Now.”

The staff scrambles, obeying my command without question. Mira hovers for a moment, seemingly unsure if she should join them. Our eyes lock once more, tension crackling in the space between us. Even from several paces away, I sense her trembling. The candlelight catches the subtle highlights of her hair, the soft slope of her cheek, the parted lips that reveal shallow breathing.

I tear my gaze away, forcing my attention to the nearest guard. “Crick,” I call out. The half-blood guard steps forward, eyes darting between me and Mira. “Ensure the gates are sealed. No messenger crows leave tonight. Understood?”

He nods sharply, then glances at Mira before darting after the others. She remains still for another heartbeat, confusion clouding her features. Finally, she sets the tray she’s holding on the table—hands shaking—and hurries after the rest.

In the sudden quiet, I press my palm against the table’s edge, tail twitching with agitation. My thoughts swirl: I’ve practically declared open hostility toward the council by striking a noble who outranks me in political circles. They will interpret my actions as an affront to naga authority. My entire estate stands at risk. Yet a part of me—some primal, possessive part—rejoices in the memory of Rahlazen’s fear. He deserved every moment of pain for the way he spoke to Mira.

I banish that unsteady thrill from my mind and sweep out of the dining hall. The corridors feel colder than usual, the lamps casting elongated shadows on the stone walls. My footsteps echo, and I sense the staff scurrying away from my presence. This is the consequence of showing anger publicly: the hush that pervaded my domain becomes something more like dread.

Eventually, I reach my private chambers near the eastern wing. The door closes behind me with a dull thud. The room is lit only by a single oil lamp perched on a side table. Coiled serpent designs swirl across the walls, their carved forms flickering in the lamplight. I pace, tail lashing with each step, mind churning over the fallout to come.

A memory flashes: Mira’s face when Rahlazen tried to touch her. She looked trapped between terror and indignation. The faint trembling in her fingers when she set down that tray lingers in my thoughts. I could not stand the sight of him taunting her, that vile look in his eyes. My body acted before I could think, venom surging out to silence him.

A scowl forms. My father once told me that discipline separates a warlord from a mere soldier. Yet in that moment, I lost all control. The feeling echoes inside me—a roaringawareness that she has become something I cannot ignore. And that is precisely what terrifies me. I do not want to bond or care for any human, but the truth is I’ve made a spectacle of my protectiveness tonight.

Abruptly, I spin around to find Sahrine standing there. Her presence is so quiet I sometimes forget to track her. She doesn’t speak until I meet her unseeing gaze. “You must see what this implies,” she says calmly. “Defending a human so openly will not go unnoticed. The council will hear of it.”

I clench my jaw. “I’m well aware. Let them hear. Rahlazen won’t soon forget the sting of my venom.”

She inclines her head, robe shifting against the floor. “He might try to bargain for his life or threaten you with repercussions.”

I exhale. “Yes. And I will handle that.”

Sahrine listens, perhaps sensing the rippling tension in my posture. Then she quietly nods. “Very well, my lord. I will keep the staff in line. What of the girl?”

The question squeezes my chest. “Mira,” I reply, her name tasting unfamiliar in my mouth, “she did nothing wrong. She will remain unharmed.”

Sahrine’s expression doesn’t shift, but I sense a subtle flicker of interest. “And the man you struck? Will you kill him?”

My tail curls at her bluntness. “Not yet. Let him suffer the effects of venom for a while. Perhaps I’ll release him once he swears to keep silent. Or perhaps I’ll feed him to the council if they come calling.”

She tilts her head in agreement, though I doubt she fully approves. “As you say, my lord.” Then she slips from the room, leaving me alone with the weight of my anger.

I collapse onto a low seat carved from dark wood, the surface chilled by the night air. My mind replays the dinner scene, focusing on the instant I sank my fangs into Rahlazen’s neck.That rush of satisfaction unsettles me now. I can’t afford to let rage dictate my actions. Not after everything that drove me from the High Nest in the first place.

Yet an insidious warmth flickers in my chest when I think of Mira. The memory of her face, her tension, the subtle relief in her posture when I intervened—it gnaws at me, demanding attention. I picture her deep-brown eyes, the shape of her mouth, the delicacy of her hands, and I find myself longing to reassure her that she is safe here, if only from petty tyrants like Rahlazen. My claws tighten against the chair’s arm.

I vow to maintain distance. She is a servant, and my life is complicated enough without entangling deeper. But the lines of boundary blur when I recall how I threatened death to any who might mistreat her. The entire estate has witnessed my reaction. They know she is not just another human. Even if I refuse to admit it, I’ve made her special by my own actions.

A faint knock disrupts my brooding. “Enter,” I say, mustering calm.

Crick slips inside, head lowered slightly in deference. His mismatched scales gleam in the low lamplight. “All doors are locked, gates sealed,” he reports. “Rahlazen is confined to the eastern guest room with guards posted outside. He’s moaning, but your venom dose isn’t lethal.”

I nod. “Good.”

Crick hesitates, stepping closer. “What do you plan to do about the council’s inevitable interest?”

I sigh, leaning forward. “Let them come. I’ll handle it.”

He nods, though worry flickers in his slitted eyes. “Understood. Also, the staff is…uneasy. They’ve never seen you strike a noble unprovoked.”

---