Page 26 of Craving His Venom

He nods, tail sliding across the stone in a languid movement. For a beat, neither of us speaks, and a tension crackles in the silence. Then he gestures to the low wall I was perched on, indicating I might sit again. Hesitantly, I resume my seat, forcing my hands to rest in my lap.

He stands before me, posture regal, yet there’s a subtle restlessness in the way his tail tip flicks. “You hum that song often.”

My cheeks warm. “It’s the only one I remember from... before. It calms me.”

He inclines his head. “It suits you. Soft, yet persistent.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. My mind flips through countless questions, but I recall Sahrine’s warning about reading significance into his every gesture. Instead of pressing him, I remain still, waiting to see if he has more to say.

He finally sits on the opposite end of the short wall. The closeness prickles through my senses—just a few feet separate us. “You’ve been adjusting to your new freedoms,” he observes, gaze drifting across the courtyard. “Has it made you reconsider another escape?”

The question hangs, loaded with unspoken meaning. “No,” I answer truthfully. “At least, not yet. The jungle remains lethal, and I’ve learned it’s safer here for the time being.”

He releases a quiet hum of acknowledgment. “Safer,” he repeats, tasting the word. “You think me less a threat now?”

I hesitate. “I think you could be, if you wished. But you haven’t chosen to be, and I’m grateful. That’s all I can say.”

His jaw tightens, and the torchlight highlights the strong lines of his face, the sharpness of his cheekbones. “Fair enough.” Then, in a softer tone, “Gratitude isn’t required. Only your honesty.”

A surge of courage prompts me to challenge him gently. “Honesty, my lord?” My heart pounds. “Then may I speak freely about something else?”

He arches a brow, curiosity flickering across his features. “You may.”

I gather my thoughts. “You appear whenever I hum or speak, and sometimes you stand close enough for your tail to brush me—like you’re testing how I’ll react. Why?”

The words leave my mouth before I can second-guess them. My pulse thunders as I await his response. For a moment, I fear he’ll lash out or deliver a cutting remark. But instead, he studies me with a half-lidded gaze, considering.

His tail swishes behind him, almost restlessly. “I’m used to controlling my surroundings,” he finally says. “I watch you to see if you pose a disruption... or if I find something of worth in you.”

It’s an answer both blunt and cryptic. My gut knots with both apprehension and a strange rush of satisfaction that he acknowledges his interest. “And have you found something of worth?” I dare to ask, voice trembling slightly.

A low exhale slips through his lips. His expression shadows, yet he doesn’t look angry. If anything, he seems torn. “We’ll see,” he murmurs, the words resonating with a quiet promise that sets my skin aflame. “For now, consider it a matter of curiosity.”

Our gazes lock, and everything else fades—the flicker of the torch, the distant rustle of nocturnal creatures in the courtyard’s bushes. The hush between us pulses with unspoken tension. He’s close enough that I can see the faint lines where his scales blend with humanlike skin, and the subtle flex of muscles beneath his dark robe. My breath catches at the realization of how formidable he truly is, and yet here we are, conversing in subdued voices like partners in a fragile dance.

He finally breaks the stare, turning his head slightly as though collecting himself. “It’s late,” he says, voice low but steady. “You should rest. There’s another day of tasks awaiting you tomorrow.”

I swallow, nodding. “You’re right.” Standing, I smooth my tunic, trying not to let my knees wobble. He remains seated on the wall, tail draped gracefully around the base. “Good night, my lord.”

His reply comes softer than I anticipate. “Good night, Mira.”

Hearing him speak my name resonates through me, leaving me disoriented and oddly warm. I step away, each footstep feeling unusually loud on the courtyard stones. When I risk a glance back, I see he’s still there, half-turned in the torchlight, watching me with an expression I can’t decode.

Returning to my chamber, I find the rest of the manor bathed in quiet. The corridors feel more intimate under the soft glow of lamps, every carved serpent motif looking half alive. Slipping into my room, I set aside my chores for the night, longing for a moment of private reflection.

Once alone, I remove my tunic and fold it neatly. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the small mirror propped on the dresser: a slender figure, hair pinned back with that jade comb gleaming at my temple. My eyes appear wide and unsettled, cheeks flushed. The changes in my life are etched plainly on my face—no longer the meek creature who tried to vanish into corners, I’m now someone who’s begun to speak up, to ask questions, to meet the warlord’s gaze with a flicker of determination.

Is that wise? I’m not sure. But a rebellious part of me likes that I’m not cowering. Perhaps it’s dangerous to test his boundaries. Then again, he’s the one who encouraged me to speak freely, if only for that fleeting moment.

Curling onto my bed, I cradle my chest, the thud of my heartbeat loud beneath my fingers. Crick’s warning echoes in my thoughts: no gift is given freely. Sahrine’s advice about noticing the small ways Vahziryn tries to claim me. My own confusing swirl of emotions every time he draws near. This world feels like an elaborate snare, and I’m wading in deeper with each passing day.

Yet a small spark of fascination ignites whenever we face each other, a spark that grows each time I catch him watching me hum or noticing how his tail lingers close. It thrills me and terrifies me in equal measure. Maybe I’m risking more than I realize—heart, mind, safety. But a quiet part of me, the one that once believed the world held no kindness, can’t help wondering if his complicated intentions might lead to something other than pain.

I push the thought aside, burying it under practicality. I’m a servant here, with little power. Tomorrow, I’ll rise and resume my duties: feeding the greenhouse plants, dusting corridors, avoiding Rahlazen if I can, and bracing for whatever new tension Vahziryn brings. This precarious dance between us might intensify. If I’m wise, I’ll keep my distance and heed Crick’s warnings. If I’m foolish, I might let the quiet, simmering pull that flares whenever Vahziryn stands near me guide my actions.

One thing is certain: my life in this jungle estate will never be the same. The weight of nocturnal stillness presses in, shadows curling around me like the tangle of my thoughts. Outside, the jungle’s nocturnal creatures call in eerie tones, reminding me that beyond these walls lies a realm of predators and unknown perils. Inside, a different kind of predator roams the corridors, black scales and golden eyes unwavering.

I lie awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, the jade comb still pinned in my hair. Eventually, exhaustion claims me, my dreams filled with half-formed images of a warlord’s coiled tail and the lingering echo of that hush where curiosity and danger collide.

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