Page 46 of Craving His Venom

In a frantic bid for closeness, I guide her to the narrow bed. The mattress creaks under our weight as I settle above her, tail coiled around her waist and thigh in a protective circle. She pushes aside the edges of my robe, palms sliding across myscaled forearms, exploring the ridges that lead to my shoulders. A shudder of pleasure arcs through me at her touch.

I lower my head, pressing open-mouthed kisses down her neck. She tilts her chin up, offering more skin to my lips. My fangs graze lightly, careful not to break the surface. She moans softly, threading her fingers into my hair. Heat builds between us, wiping away rational thought. I need her warmth, her acceptance, the reminder that even in a world of brutal politics, we can claim a moment of solace.

Her robe slips further, baring her soft curves. My tail shifts, hooking around her leg, opening her to me. I can barely breathe, consumed by hunger for her. Our first time was driven by impulsive need. Now, the anger that Velna stoked fans my desire, but also a fierce tenderness emerges—an urge to soothe and protect all at once.

I slip my hand along her hip, feeling her tremble under my touch. She meets my gaze, eyes reflecting a deep spark. “I want this,” she whispers, cheeks flushed. “I’m not afraid.”

Relief mingles with passion. “Hold me,” I murmur, voice rough, as my double shafts grow rigid, barbs faintly ridged. A flicker of concern crosses her eyes, but she nods, remembering how we navigated this before. She grips my shoulders, bracing for that powerful intrusion.

With measured care, I align myself, pressing the first shaft into her heat. Her body yields to me with a gasp. The tight clasp around my length steals my breath, reminiscent of that moment in the library but threaded with deeper meaning. My tail anchors around her, stabilizing her. She moans, arms tightening around my neck, drawing me closer.

I begin a slow rhythm, ensuring she adjusts, reading every hitch in her breath. Each thrust sends spirals of ecstasy through me, the barbs providing a friction that makes her whimper in sweet delight. When I introduce the second shaft, her nails diginto my skin, a mix of shock and pleasure flaring in her eyes. She lets out a trembling moan, and I fight to remain gentle, mindful of her comfort.

She clenches around me, tears glistening, though not from pain but the force of sensation. My entire being vibrates with an intense awareness that this act is more than mere physical release. It’s a reclamation of what Velna threatens to break. My fangs slide over her shoulder, grazing skin, but I hold back from biting too hard. Instead, I kiss the juncture, a worshipful press of lips that conveys the devotion I cannot speak aloud without endangering us.

Our movements sync, building a relentless heat that drowns out every fear. I bury my face against her neck, inhaling her faint lavender scent. She arches under me, lips parted in a silent plea. We lose ourselves in a tangle of limbs, forging unity from the storm raging outside. I thrust deeper, barbs anchoring in a way that binds us momentarily, making her cry out my name.

Each breath merges with hers, forging a private realm of desperate hunger and fierce love. The mounting pressure crescendos, and I feel my body teeter on the brink. She’s right there with me, eyes rolling back, voice breaking into a keening note. With a final surge, we cross that edge together, pleasure smashing through any barrier of caution. We hold on tight, breathless, our hearts pounding in sync.

In the aftermath, I collapse onto the narrow bed, tail draping protectively over her hip. She trembles beneath me, a hand pressed to my scaled chest. Our shared breathing gradually slows. My mind tries to process the enormity of what we risk each time we surrender to this, but in her arms, every worry feels distant.

We lie there, sweat cooling on our skin. Outside, thunder rumbles softly, the storm’s approach echoing the tension in my life. She nestles her head on my shoulder, voice quivering.“Thank you,” she whispers, soft but resonant. “For letting me in, even when everything conspires to keep us apart.”

My throat constricts. “I should thank you,” I rasp, “for trusting me, for not walking away despite the threats.” My tail curls more snugly around her, a silent vow. “I won’t let Velna or anyone else destroy what we have.”

She nods, eyes drifting shut, exhaustion tugging at us both. In that fragile moment of peace, we clutch each other like survivors adrift in a storm. The future remains uncertain—Velna’s blackmail, the council’s suspicion—but here, entwined, we banish the shadows with shared warmth.

Time slips by in a haze of spent passion and murmured reassurances. Eventually, I slide off the bed, gathering my scattered robe. Her gaze follows me, a hint of worry returning as the glow of intimacy fades. “Are you going to see her again?”

I secure the robe, tail flicking restlessly. “I’ll have to. She expects an answer soon. But I’ll buy time, search for leverage against her.” My eyes return to Mira’s face. “Until I succeed, keep a low profile. Don’t let her corner you alone.”

She sits up, pulling her robe around her shoulders. A trace of fear dims her eyes, but also resolve. “I can handle her if she tries.”

A faint, wry smile curves my mouth. “I know you can. But I’d rather not put you in that position.”

She nods, standing, hair mussed from our encounter, cheeks still flushed. She picks up the fallen comb from the floor, sliding it back into her hair with practiced ease. Watching her perform such a small act of composure after the rawness we shared touches me in ways I can’t fully express. I want to shield her from the storm gathering outside, but I sense she’d stand by me even if the sky fell.

Steeling myself, I step to the door. My tail lingers behind me, brushing her ankle in a gentle farewell. She stands in the centerof the room, lips parted as though wishing for a better goodbye, but we dare not linger. With one last, heated glance, I slip out, returning to the corridors.

My mind roils with conflicting tides: fierce satisfaction from our shared intimacy, overshadowed by the realization that if Velna learns about this, she’ll sharpen the blade of her blackmail. But I refuse to cower. I am a warlord, exile or not. I survived her betrayal once. I can do it again.

The storm outside finally breaks as I stride away from Mira’s door, thunder rattling the glass windows. Rain cascades in thick sheets, drumming the roof. A tumult of worry stirs in my gut, but a quiet determination rises to meet it. We’ve fought for this fragile closeness. I won’t let Velna or the council tear it apart.

Slipping into my private study, I notice the gloom from the storm has turned the room nearly dark, save for a lone lantern flickering on my desk. The old scrolled maps and treatises about venom refinement lie untouched, overshadowed by the immediate crisis. I close the door behind me, leaning against it, breath ragged.

The memory of Mira’s heartbeat pressed to mine lingers, granting a measure of resolve. Velna may hold a dagger at my throat, but she underestimates my will to protect the one I’ve chosen—even if I never meant to choose anyone again. I feel my scaled arms prickle with adrenaline. Perhaps, just perhaps, there’s a way to outmaneuver her cunning.

Sighing, I push off the door and gather my thoughts. If Velna hopes to climb the ranks of the High Nest, she’ll need allies, funds, or political leverage. Maybe I can turn her scheme on its head, feed the council alternative scandals about Velna’s own misdeeds, or forge a pact with other families opposed to her rise. The notion of reentering the High Nest’s labyrinth of politics nauseates me, but for Mira’s sake, I’ll do anything.

Lightning flashes beyond the windows, illuminating the shelves stacked with dusty scrolls. My father believed in a strictly merciless approach, but that path nearly cost me everything. Instead, I’ll wield cunning and alliances to shield this domain—and Mira. I owe it to her, to the vow we forged in the hush of secrecy.

Leaving the lantern’s glow behind, I stand at the window, watching the storm lash the courtyard. Rain washes the stone with furious intensity, as if the jungle weeps for the tangled fates of those living within it. My tail coils around my legs, reflecting the tension in my heart.

No matter how bleak the horizon, I vow not to betray what we share. The council, Velna, the entire pantheon of naga tradition—let them hiss and strike. I’ll meet them with a steadfast heart and enough cunning to hold my ground. And if the storm worsens, I won’t face it alone. A reminder of her warmth lingers across my scaled arms, a promise that some bonds are worth defending—even if it means defying the laws that once bound me in silence.

Rain pounds the rooftop, thunder rolling. I place a hand against the cold glass, exhaling a slow breath. Tomorrow, I begin searching for cracks in Velna’s armor, forging the alliances needed to protect Mira. The thought of looking that viper in the eyes again sets my venom burning. But I find comfort in the knowledge that, for the first time, I fight not just for pride or revenge—but for a future that includes her.

My reflection in the window stares back—golden eyes, damp hair from the greenhouse humidity, tension lining my jaw. Yet beneath the anger and worry, I sense a new steadiness. Let the storms come. I’ll face them all, and if I must tear down the old ways to keep my mate safe, then so be it. Nothing and no one will take what is mine.

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