Page 21 of Citrine

She's just an insignificant creature, unworthy of my attention.

Despite my best efforts to push the feelings aside, they linger, refusing to be ignored.

It's infuriating, maddening even, to find myself drawn to her in this way. I've had my fair share of females from my species who came to me, but I never clung to them with my mind like her.

I never thought about them—any more than they did me—after we quenched the mating fever.

And yet here I am, unable to tear my gaze away from this pathetic creature, feeling a strange tug in the pit of my stomach that I can't quite explain.

Something finally clicks inside me.

As I watch her playing with the insects, a realization dawns on me. It is simply the usual need for entertainment. I enjoy it when my prey challenges me. When they put up a fight.

It triggers a chemical rush that heightens my satisfaction when I finally consume them. Perhaps that's why I'm feeling this strange pull.

Here in this strange place, I've encountered nothing that's put up a real challenge. They've all been easy prey, too stupid to offer any real resistance. She's different. There's something about her that ignites a spark of excitement within me.

My eyes are fixed on her. The golden glow of her hair merging with the flickering light.

"The satisfaction will be worth it."

I ignore the fact that it isn't my stomach that stirs in anticipation, but my two mating tentacles.

With a deep breath, I sink into the water, feeling the familiar warmth envelop me. The water takes on a deep blue hue, then gives way to the welcome darkness below.

If only I could make myself descend into it.

I watch her silhouette on the other side of the shore, her movements graceful and unaware of the danger lurking beneath the surface. I will let her settle and then I'll strike.

My graspers flick in anticipation, but then I see movement in the water.

A silhouette of Many Teeth emerges, floating toward the edge where she sits, moving itself along with small movements of its long tail so it doesn't betray its presence. It is night, so it isn't moving as confidently, though I can still see it clearly.

That's why most hunting happens in the dark.

The female is oblivious to the danger. Too weak, and obviously too ignorant, to survive, this loathsome, soft thing.

The Many Teeth must have tasted her blood when she was washing in the water. My eyes narrow as I watch it move closer, its sleek yet heavy body gliding through the water slowly.

Yes, I want her for my meal, but I want to see how she will fight a Many Teeth.

This will also give me a sense of the capabilities she has, if any. I feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect tingle along my many limbs. The anticipation of watching her struggle against one of the deadliest creatures in the lake is making me bounce in the water as my tentacles whirl.

With a twitch of my limbs, I follow the Many Teeth.

I keep a safe distance between me and the creature to ensure it won't notice my presence. I swim silently, my movements fluid and practiced, staying just out of its detection range.

The water is murky, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the bugs on the shore.

As the Many Teeth swims closer, I stay behind, watching intently. We are already near the branch that she is dipping in now. At the water's edge for no clear reason I can discern.

Her silhouette is framed against the glow of the not-food. The Many Teeth's rows of razor-sharp teeth glint faintly in the dim light, a silent promise of death.

The Many Teeth slows further. Just below the surface where it can't be seen. She's crouched near the water's edge on a stone, her grasper dipping into the water to continue rubbing at her skin.

The creature is just beneath the surface, its eyes locked onto her as it prepares to strike.

Will she notice in time?

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