Page 42 of Savoring Her Snake

“Heath,” she whispers, covering my hand with hers. “I know you aren’t a bad man. You have treated me with care and consideration.”

“You confuse the fuck out of me.” I frown but don’t move away. “You do nothing I expect. You are a human in bed with a snake. Aren’t you scared of me? Of him? I have killed hundreds. You saw me kill. I have made money off of others' blood. Your brother was hurt because of me. I shift into a deadly animal. I’m fucking demanding, possessive, and I would rather be left alone. I would kill anyone for looking at you the wrong way.” I push up, pressing my back to the wall. “I kidnapped an innocent woman. I killed a man recently in the locked room across the hallway.” I need her to stay, but her lack of reaction is odd. I won’t let her go. I cross my arms and grind my teeth.

“My brother got himself hurt,” she says, sitting up to face me. “Do you force them to fight?”

“No,” I grit out.

“Did you want the woman hurt?”

“No, but it happened.”

“It was the worst way of getting your money back,” she says lightly, and I nod. “Did you apologize?”

“I did.”

“Are they part of the group?” she asks. I nod again. “So they have forgiven you.” I lift a shoulder. “Why did you kill the man?”

“He was one of the men who hurt Rylee,” I snarl, and she lifts her eyebrows.

“I haven’t met your snake, but I don’t think he will hurt me. He is part of you, and you have done nothing but take care of me. No one has ever defended me. I don’t want anyone’s gaze on me but yours; feel free to teach them a lesson.” I tilt my head. “If they touch me without permission, you can hurt them. I don’t know why I was chosen as your mate. It seems like fate. I knew about your world, and I’m grateful. I want to be with you. The way you make me feel is something I can’t ignore.”

“You don’t know everything,” I say softly.

“No. You don’t know everything about me either,” she says.

“You can’t reason away all the bad things I’ve done,” I say.

“I can try,” she quips, grinning. I resist the charm of her smile. My heart pounds as I decide to say the words I’ve never spoken out loud.

“You can’t.” I look away. “I killed my mother.” I look back. “Can you excuse that?”

Chapter Twelve

Heath

Sheremainsclose.Idon’t smell fear, only curiosity and shock. Her fingers curl around my forearm, and I look down in confusion. How can she be so fucking calm? Acid is churning in my stomach from admitting my secret shame.

“Tell me why,” she urges, and I lift my head.

“My dad was born a snake shifter. My mom was not. She was his fated mate, and she got caught up in its magic. The bond was pushing her to accept him. He showed her his snake, and she was amazed by it. She accepted his claim, and he turned her. Everything was perfect in their world. My dad would tell me about their love story all the time, and she would smile softly. When she looked at him, it was special. I felt the love and devotion. Our life was simple, yet filled with fun and love. I had two younger brothers who adored her, as did I. She would sing as she made food. We loved to watch and listen to her sweet voice. She was beautiful.” I close my eyes, tipping my head back. “Dad would come home, and they would dance in front of the stove. Mom taught me how to dance. I stepped on her feet, but she would laugh. Her dress would sway softly over my bare feet. I had the perfect family. We hid what we were and shifted in the house. My brothers loved to slither through the rooms and chase each other. They looked up to me, and I tried to set an example.

“Some shifters, after hundreds of years, forget their life. I remember every minute, every second of our time together. Dad taught me how to use my snake's abilities. Of course, I wasn’t as strong as he was, but he explained the powers that would come as I age. He didn’t have tattoos, which confuses me now. The only way I can explain it is that he didn't use his gifts much. He had black hair and blue eyes. My mom had brown hair; my brothers took after her. Harry and Hanson,” I whisper, opening my eyes. “Those were their names. Harry was three years younger, and Hanson was five years younger than me. I felt responsible for them. Harry was serious and watched everything. Hanson was gentle. He needed physical touch and reassurance.

“When I turned thirteen, Mom started to change. It was little things. She didn’t sing anymore and refused to dance. She drew away from all of us. Dad was confused and worried, which he tried to hide. When he left for work, he took me aside and asked me to watch out for my brothers, pointedly looking at Mom. I knew in my gut that her behavior wasn’t just a mood. She didn’t want to cook anymore, something she enjoyed. Over the course of a year, she became increasingly angry, snapping at us. There were no more bedtime stories, soft touches, or hot meals.

“I would hear them fighting when they thought we were asleep. She was our mom, yet not. Her eyes grew hateful when she looked at us. I found her sitting in her room, staring at the wall and whispering to herself. It scared my brothers.”

“It scared you, too,” she says quietly, squeezing her hand.

“It did,” I rasp, unable to hide the pain. “I didn’t recognize her anymore. She snapped at us all day, and I hid it from my dad. He would ask if it was worse, and I lied. I should have told him, and maybe it could have been different.” I unfold my arms and cup her hand between mine. “Dad was home. My brothers were playing at the table. I had to get out of the house. Mom was yelling again about something, and everyone was trying to ignore it. I walked out the back door and went to the woods behind our house. The silence calmed me, and I sat beneath a tree. I fell asleep and woke up when it was dark. My heart began to pound, and I knew something was wrong. I ran home and saw blood on the door.

“I smelled death, but I didn’t want to go in. Maybe if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be true. There was so much blood.” I stare at our hands. “I found my brothers on the floor by the table, next to my dad. There were broken pieces of chairs scattered. A knife was clutched in my dad’s hand. I knelt next to Harry and Hanson. It didn’t seem like they had the opportunity to fight, the shock still etched on their faces.”

“No,” she cries, scooting closer.

“I was crying when she walked back into the house. She left to find me and realized I had come back home. She had blood soaked into her pretty dress. Her eyes were wide and haunted. She told me she had to set us free. We were cursed with our snakes, and she had to protect us. Her speech is a blurry memory, but the fact remains: she killed them. It didn’t matter why. She took away the people I loved and planned for me to join them. I knew what I had to do. I was fourteen and scared, angry, hurt, and confused. Something was urging me to avenge my family, even though it was my mother who did it. I had to use the element of surprise. She was older and filled with rage.

“I looked in my mom’s eyes as I used my snake to kill her. I watched her take her last breath inches from my face. Her eyes stared into mine. Right before she died, I relaxed my grip, and she nodded. She knew what needed to happen but didn’t have the capacity to do it herself. I took her life. She joined the rest of my family in death, and I was left with nothing but blood and nightmares. I locked everything down. I cleaned the bodies and the house. I buried my family in the forest and slept the first night alone on the ground at the foot of their grave. Unfortunately, when I woke, it wasn’t a dream. I was still alone, and I had killed the woman who gave me life. Who taught me to be kind and respectful to women.

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