Chapter 11

With her spare clothing in one hand, and a lit flame lantern in the other, Linh wondered how she was supposed to get past Nathair.

Throughout the course of last night, the Duskwalker hadn't moved from his spot. It'd been difficult to see him in the dark, and her concern for him had grown when she heard small, distressing noises echoing off the stone walls.

Figuring he wanted to be alone, she'd distracted herself.

She investigated the iron lantern, then noted the candles were a little worse for wear. The ones at the bottom of the box were almost unusable, like the chest they'd been in slowly leaked once dragged from the ship.

The first candle she burned constantly sputtered, threatening to go out before it did finally die. She slowly heated the ones that were useable over the fire to try and remove any water or air pockets that had formed, hopefully preventing that from happening in the future.

Then she made sure she had all the supplies she'd need to get the torches going. The cloth in the chest was a little stained and crusty from sea salt but should still burn.

Whatever burning oil was used smelt pungent and gross, but two of the four containers had managed to not leak.

She put them to the side, wanting to utilise them at a better time.

Linh also washed the fish of sand, then prepped and cooked it. The wine was bitter, but gave enough flavour to make eating bearable. She wasn't used to consuming this much fish, so her dinner made her a little queasy.

Sleep had fallen over her with great difficulty, especially when her lazy eyes had kept drifting to where she knew Nathair to be. Only when the hour had to have been late, did she finally pass out.

Linh had woken to stray streaks of sunlight, which allowed her to see that Nathair had not moved from his spot. Eventually two desires had clutched at her: to remove the smell of fish from her clothes and skin, and to go to the bathroom.

Which is why she now stood next to this snake Duskwalker's huddle, assessing how to squeeze past without disturbing him. The sliver of a gap meant she had to press herself hard against the opening.

Once through, she turned to the left with her lantern barely lighting the way.

She removed her precious Ao Dai garment her grandmother – on her father's side – had made for her twenty-first birthday, and dropped it under the subtle waterfall to soak it. She also removed her pants, underwear, and the undershirt she wore as a bra.

She went to the toilet, hating how she had to do that over some strange hole. She tried not to think about it, or the weird paranoia that a Demon hand might shove its way through with swiping claws.

Linh sat down in the sprinkle of water to scrub at her clothing with soap before washing her skin. She also untwisted her braids so she could rinse them of grime, and used a bone comb she'd brought with her from when she'd originally been taken.

Once she was done, she placed her washed clothing over a jutting section of rock to dry. She donned a new undershirt and underwear, but paused at the knee-length dress in her hands.

I haven't worn this in months.

If she hadn't been naked, Bragg made her wear simple, plain dresses – for the cruellest of reasons. She'd then forced herself to wear his pants, wanting a barrier even if it was a pointless one.

But this dress... It had been her mother's. It'd been gifted to her, and she'd packed it because she just wanted to bring her family with her in the wake of her upcoming loss.

She'd refused to wear it. It was too pretty and delicate for the eyes and hands of dirty, sweat-covered bandits.

It'd also been too short for her own comfort, swaying just above the knees. Part of her had wanted to appear as unappetising as possible. She'd even smothered her face and body in mud – which had merely gained her a bucket of water tipped over her head many times.

It's only Nathair. He was a Duskwalker. Surely, he wouldn't look at her with a leering eye.

Yet, she thumbed the silky material while thinking, I wonder if he'll find me pretty in this. She blushed at herself, unsure of where that thought came from. I'm starting to have weird thoughts about him. Why did feeling safe make her like him more than she probably should?

She considered waiting for her pants to dry, but shook her head. She put on her mother's dress and patted down the pink silky skirt that had green leaves sewn into it. A green sash had been stitched to the centre and sat just below her breasts. Her cleavage would have threatened to spill out due to the wide vee down the middle, but her undershirt thankfully covered it. The garment bore no sleeves and was relatively simple in design.

She shivered at the coldness surrounding her bared skin. I should have brought my jacket.

Wanting to head back swiftly, she picked up her lantern and left.

Her lips pursed when she got to the main entrance to discover Nathair had shifted and completely blocked it. His black scales glistened with rainbows against the muted light of her lantern.

I don't think he's sleeping. His entire body rippled, constantly shifting. She hadn't been able to see it before, but he seemed to be twisting slowly, like he couldn't get comfortable.

"Nathair, I need you to move over," she requested with a quiet voice, not wanting to bother him. "I need to get past."

Her gaze flickered down the dark tunnel, and she swallowed thickly. She was a sitting duck right now; a Demon could come frothing up the incline at any point.

Nathair didn't respond, not in sound or movement, as if she'd been unheard.

She gingerly brought her fingers to him and pressed in and out, trying to stir him. Nothing. Her heart clenched when the candle sputtered, making the swallowing darkness flicker. She shook him.

Realising she hadn't fixed the candle like she thought she did, she leapt into action before it could go out. She climbed over him, figuring he was in another trance and couldn't be disturbed. He felt like climbing soft boulders, and she kicked and kneed him before crawling on the outer ring of his wrappings.

A small scream tore out of her when his coils suddenly opened and she fell. The lantern was lost, thunking against the ground after she accidentally tossed it to catch herself.

Linh was rendered quiet when Nathair surrounded her from all sides, blocking her escape from the centre point of his serpent coil. She refused to feel fear, but did squirm until a set of white orbs lingered barely a few inches from her nose.

They are colourless, like before. So, she'd been right – he was in a trance then?

Her skin prickled when claws tickled up the bare flesh of her thighs, his hands dipping up under her dress before they slid up her sides. Anxiety instantly clutched her throat, choking her at the intimate touch beneath her clothing. Her stomach bubbled with repulsion, which made her skin crawl.

She clenched her eyes shut, only to peek them open moments later when his arms crossed behind her back and locked her in. He'd laid down and seemed to be twisting tighter and tighter around her.

He did nothing.

He didn't try to touch her further, didn't squeeze her until she couldn't breathe. After a few panicked breaths, she realised his... shudders were beginning to settle, and became non-existent when he buried his snout against the crook of her neck and shoulder.

He's just... hugging me. And she understood, for whatever reason, it was soothing him.

Perhaps it was her warmth, or maybe even her scent, since he'd buried his nose against her. Whatever it was, the innocence of it allowed her to settle. She relaxed into it, and her loss of tension made him soften as well.

For a long while, they just laid there, unmoving in the silence. It grew warmer the longer she was there, as if her heat bled into him and filled the rest of his body.

This is actually remarkably comforting.

She never thought she'd like being restricted like this, but it felt different to being pinned down. It was like being cuddled in utter protection, shielding out all the light and cold, so the only thing that existed was them.

Her heart and breaths lost their rapid speed. She didn't realise her pulse had been racing every second of every minute since the day she'd been taken, and had never truly managed to return to a normal state, until now.

A scent slowly trickled into her senses. He smells like... waterlilies, and moonflowers. She'd never been able to smell them behind the heavy aroma of brine and salt. She liked that he didn't have an overly masculine scent, and instead found the femininity of it pleasant against the balm of her damaged spirit.

Despite her alertness, her eyes drooped in contentment, and she rubbed the tip of her nose against him.

A strong pulse resonated from all around her, as if she was nestled within his very heart. She could feel it everywhere, softly pulsating against every bit of skin: her hands, chest, calves, and even from the part of his tail that had nestled itself between her thighs.

It should have been alarming that something was pressing against her underwear, breasts, and arse, but her contentment never waned and only deepened. Even the bumpy texture of his decently sized scales was lovely.

She didn't know if it was minutes that ticked past, hours, or even days. Linh just soaked it all in as her mind went hazy in a stupor.

It'd been forever since she'd felt peace, and now she floated in it, basked in it, revelled in it. She was currently being snuggled by the most dangerous creature in existence, but not one part of her being, not a fibre or cell, was scared.

She even deepened it when she was able to wiggle an arm around his torso. Linh regretted it when she felt an open gash and he tensed. Everything got tight and the overall softness cushioning her hardened like stone.

"Don't," she whispered before he could react. She didn't really want him dumping her on the damn ground like last time. "It's fine. This feels nice."

Nathair's head pulled back, revealing orange orbs.

"Did you have a good sleep?" she whispered, her voice croaked and groggy.

Linh was choosing to ignore the uncertainty that he may not want to hold her like this. He'd started it, and the hold was innocent on both sides – she guessed.

Nathair never responded, and just continued to stare at her. The stiffness eventually dissipated, and a small smile curled her lips.

"If you're wondering how this happened, I swear it was an accident," she informed him with a subtle laugh mingled in. "You were in the way of me returning from my washing area, and you refused to move to let me back in. I climbed over you, and you opened up to make me come in here."

His head dipped as he pulled back a little, creating a pocket of room so he could look down at her body – and likely the way he'd coiled himself around her. His tongue flicked forward, much like how a snake would but with a thicker limb.

Her eyelids flickered rapidly when his orbs momentarily glowed bright purple. I've never seen that colour before, but it was pretty. Lilac purple happened to be her favourite colour, and a small amount of excitement at discovering what emotion it signified ran through her.

Too bad it faded, just as he began to pull away again.

"I like it," she quickly stated, before he could get the wrong idea. "I feel really safe. It's been a long time since I felt that way."

Nathair paused and tilted his head with his orbs flaring dark yellow. She was beginning to wonder if the darker hue conveyed curiosity or questions. Then he moved, making gestures, and she laughed.

"I can't see anything but your orbs, Nathair. It's too dark."

He let out a purposefully loud huff. She recoiled when he brushed over her breasts, but his intention glowed brightly seconds later as the light symbol shone on her dress.

Oh my gods. I didn't know he could make me glow! It was both cool and weird to see her chest alight.

Nathair patted his skull, ran his hand over a hooked horn, and tilted his head in question again.

"Are you trying to explain that you're a Duskwalker?" she asked, gaining herself a nod. A smile lifted into her features. "I know what you are, Nathair. Hard to miss that. But, like I said yesterday, I trust you. You haven't tried to hurt me and you haven't been... weird."

Suddenly, the places he was touching, which almost happened to be everywhere but her chest, felt warm. He was against many delicate places, had her trapped, and she wasn't fretting to get away.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Something about it, perhaps his waterlily-and-moonflower scent, or the feel of his smooth scales, or even his mild warmth, had her skin tingling. Now that they were talking, her drowsiness waned, and she became more alert to everything that was him.

With the increase of her strangely fluttering chest, places on her body began to throb. The inside of her wrist, her thighs cupping him, her clit pressed against him, and even her nipples as they hardened.

The arousal was subtle, and very much startling, but she didn't mind. He didn't know, and Linh absolutely didn't want more than this.

In some ways, she was relieved she felt desire, even if it was for this strange moment, for Nathair. A Duskwalker, a frightening monster, who would make any other human scream in terror being held like this. It meant she wasn't broken, and that side of herself wasn't as... lost as she feared it to be.

What a relief.

I don't understand this human, Nathair thought, as he drifted his sight up her body splayed on him. She does not have sense. That, or a complete disregard for her own safety. Who approached a crazed creature?

She does not mind being held like this? By me? What was that supposed to mean? After the previous day, when he'd wounded her, he expected her to no longer trust his presence.

She also didn't know of the twisted, dark thoughts that were beginning to stir.

Nathair currently had a very soft female within his trappings. Her dark, straight lashes frequently caught his attention, and he often wondered what they felt like fluttering against his scales. Her flesh was smooth and giving against the hardness of his own, and she moulded into the space he'd provided.

Her scent was sweet, and he flicked his tongue forward to taste the aroma of it completely filling up the gap of their bodies. Her heart was tiny – a cute little flutter he'd like to clasp onto permanently.

Nathair currently had a lax female on top of him, and the voices in his mind pushed back at his musings on how he could make her even more docile.

He choked back his groan when a tangy and body-tingling scent lifted into the air. He panted, his tongue flicking forward again, as his sight shifted to purple and held it. Although he'd never smelt a female's arousal before, the fact his groin jerked hard gave him the impression he'd just discovered it.

And what a remarkably tantalising scent it was.

It didn't matter that it was light, and barely a drop. His throat instantly dried, like he may be experiencing human thirst.

Although many of his fragments were rather unpleasant, fornication was not unknown to him. He'd experienced it, as both the male and the female in those fragments, and already knew it could feel amazing. The experiences were often muted, but he knew the sounds, the touches, what it felt like to bury and to be buried within.

His sight slipped to her generous chest, wondering if her breasts were perky or droopy. If her nipples were brown or pink, and if that colour would match the slit between her thighs.

This wasn't his first time having perverse thoughts of the little female he had in his keeping, but it was the strongest. He'd ignored them before, often shoving these fantasies away with the impression she would not want them. She'd never indicated otherwise – not with words, touches, gazes, or even scent.

But now? A small ripple danced down his spine all the way to his tail tip.

She also had his magic marking her, and that satisfied a rather possessive part of him. She would look pretty in my nest. She would fit there, among his other pretty treasures.

He started to reach out, and the glow of his magic upon her clothing glinted against his claw. It looked sharp, deadly, and the exposed part of her chest looked remarkably soft. His protruding knuckle bones looked... wrong, and not like the many human hands he'd worn in his fragments.

He took in the gleam of his black scales beneath her, and how she appeared delicate and pure – and that she didn't belong against them. Against him.

Her arousal is not for me.It couldn't be.

She thinks of me as safe, not as a mate. Parents, friends, and even pets could make humans feel this way. She is likely thinking of a male of her own kind. One with flesh upon his face, and who had two legs and not a lengthy body. Someone who did not have claws, scales, or who could accidentally envenom her.

Realising he was about to do something idiotic, Nathair gently spread his coils apart. She slowly slipped to the ground, and he released her for his own sanity.

I am not fully lucid. He couldn't be to have such fantastical, groin-pulsing thoughts of this little female. I have not rested fully. If only he could sleep peacefully.

His life was sleepless, and he was growing tired of existing in it already. This female was not helping. He didn't feel like himself, especially when the yearning to lick every part of his own body where she'd left her scent on him itched at his tongue.

He'd also never felt so hot before, and the air felt chillier than usual at the loss of her heat. He could see himself growing addicted to her, which would only hurt him when she inevitably chose to leave.

Which she would. Nathair was just waiting for the request.

He was entertaining her here because he liked her. Her personality was docile, but she was also willing to be playful. She gave him smiles that mostly appeared sincere, complimented him on the smallest of things, and was compassionate enough to talk to him even though they could not properly communicate.

I long to speak with her. To ask her questions, and figure out who she really was, where she'd come from, and why she'd latched on to him so readily.

As he backed away from her, his gaze drifted to his nest hidden away on the other side of the crescent floor. He missed resting in it. The way its tall walls surrounded him made him feel secure, but he'd been blocking this entrance for her sake: to prevent Demons entering even if he was in a trance, and to minimise her human scent from flittering down the tunnels.

Linh stood, and she tilted her head down at her chest. She brushed her fingertips over his magic symbol.

"This is really cool. I don't need a lantern if I have this."

He wouldn't do it often. Magic came with costs.

Healing her meant he'd taken on her bruise on his arm. The light required a drop of his blood. Both dimmed his mind, stealing more of his limited strength.

She likely thought him strong, but Nathair was constantly at the edge of collapsing.

He watched her walk around, seeming to inspect everything properly now that she had the light. My scent is all over her. She was on him, he on her, and the mingle of it was rather gentle and pleasant. Once more, the purple of deep desire flickered in his sight as his groin clenched and spasmed.

"I didn't realise how deep the lake was." She pointed to it while shining a cheerful smile at him, and he gave her a lusty purr for it.

Folding his arms, he covered his face with a palm and shook his head. Think of other things. Like the risks involved in her simply being here. She will likely be hungry soon. He didn't want to go far, nor did he wish to leave her alone.

She seemed to like the beach. Perhaps he could offer she join him each day, rather than slithering off while she was asleep like he'd originally intended. I worry if I leave her here by herself, and my fragments render me useless for a time, she will be unprotected.

Demons often pulled him out of them, as their smells were putrid and instantly had him shoved into aggressive alertness. She would be safer with him, unless he went into a rage from fighting.

She padded around the area barefoot and appeared to be checking every nook and cranny, while Nathair was having a life crisis about what to do.

He wanted her, but doubted she'd want him in return. He wanted to protect her, but he'd likely be her demise. He wanted her to stay, but...

"Holy shit," she rasped from the other side of the cave.

Wait.He lowered his hand and looked up, and his chest tightened when he saw her next to his nest.

Dark green flickered in his sight, and he was unsure if it was because she was so close to it, or from the greed of her possibly touching his treasures. She bent over the tall edge.

Stay away from it! He let out a menacing growl.

As if she didn't hear his warning, she said, "Where the hell did this all come from?!"

Nathair darted towards her with his growl deepening. The clinks and clatters of coins, gems, jewellery, and polished cutlery burst in his ears.

Linh tipped forward, hand outstretched, then she squealed, her legs kicking at the air as she fell inside the deep recess. Nathair received a flash of creamy thighs, of pale-green underwear, and a round backside before she disappeared... into his bed.

Like a whiplash of fire slicing across his entire torso, Nathair halted when possessive rage bashed his being. Tension shot into his hands, prepping his claws, while his flesh seemed to tighten over his bulging, blood-filling muscles.

Her head popped up, as did her hands cupping two necklaces: one pearly, and the other silver with little white gems and a large sapphire in the middle.

She is in my nest... A shaken pant fell from him, his tentacles swirling behind his seam. Admiring its contents... He crept closer to observe her, trying not to startle the little prey sitting in his predatory den.

He bet the contents were cool against her skin, and that she'd warm it all for him. That she'd replace the many metallic smells with her peach-and-vanilla one. It'd all glitter around her with his light brightening her.

His tongue flicked forward as he licked at his maw in interest. Desirous venom flooded his veins at just the mere thought, just the imagery that plagued within his mind.

The moment his hand rested on the edge, and he leaned over to look at her, purple blasted in his sight.

He was right: the hundreds of coins, gems, and even chalices sparkled from her radiating light. A bracelet had hooked around her foot, while an unmatched set of earrings had tangled into her long, single braid.

One word echoed as a growl within his darkening thoughts: mine. Metal shifted under his weight as he entered it with her.

Unaware that the Mavka approaching her was filled with an inferno of untapped and unbridled lust, Linh stared at the necklaces in her hand with awe. Dizziness swam in his senses, like the dark desires of his kind were suffocating for something such as a Mavka.

They were insatiable, and always hungry for something.

"This is amazing. I've never seen these many riches in one place." She tipped her glorious, smiling face at him, and her brown eyes shone. "Do you know what this could do for my village?"

She gasped when he shoved his hands against the wall of cloth and hide just behind her, trapping her in. She dropped the pieces of jewellery and rolled back until she was almost lying down. Shock marred her features, but she didn't smell afraid.

She climbed inside my nest, my bed.

Sheput herself there.

This pretty little fucking human, and she looked wonderful in it. Smelled wonderful in it. Like she belonged there, the treasure adding to the beauty she already beheld.

She made herself his.

His growl turned into a thunderous purr.

Did she know what she'd just done? He wanted to think she'd done it willingly, knowingly. To have wordlessly made that statement to him. His hazing thoughts believed so.

His mind felt clouded, like his lucidity was about to slip. Nathair didn't even know if it was his fragments clouding him, despite their mildness currently.

Smells nice, he thought, as he leaned down and drew his tongue against the side of her jaw. He groaned, just as the pressure behind his seam pounded. His tentacles swirled tighter, holding back his girth and stopping him from extruding.

He laid down on top of her. He pinned her with nothing but weight, and her thighs were forced to spread around his narrow hips.

"N-Nathair?" she asked, trying to wriggle her arms between them.

Her voice is so nice. He never thought just his damn name being spoken to him could make his entire body tingle. I want her to call it. Over and over again, as if to make up for all the times he'd never been able to say it.

Coins clinked around them as he wound his arm underneath her back and lifted her so her stomach pressed against his. The pumping pressure behind his seam became unbearable at her warmth pressing against it, and he thoughtlessly thrust his hips against her once – just once. It was enough to lance him with profound pleasure, and he extruded forward with a quick dart.

"What was that?" she whispered shakily when the protective shielding of his tentacles brushed against the crook of her thigh and pelvis. "Please, Nathair. I-I don't like being pinned down."

He cocked his head at that, his murky thoughts puzzled. Considering he'd been pinning her from all sides not even a few minutes ago, he didn't see how that could be true.

"Oh-oh my gods." Her eyes widened when she looked down. "You're hard."

Unbearably so. What other Mavka wouldn't be after a female just crawled into their bed?

He'd been hoping to experience the return of that arousal scent from earlier. She'd gifted him with it and then crawled into his nest. A sense of hope had washed over him that maybe this female did desire him in return.

That bubble of optimism popped the moment he heard a quiet sob. Then it felt as though he was punched in the side of the skull by a brutal wave of fear. His orbs flared red, and he almost launched his maw at her head to swallow her whole in an instant.

Nathair cut off his breath and froze as his claws dug into the wall. Branches, sticks, and ship planks creaked and cracked while he quaked above her.

Want to eat her. Rage tickled at the back of his skull. Her fear smelt delicious. Just another taste. His lungs tightened with the greedy desire to huff in that tangy perfume of delicious terror. Hungry.His stomach clenched in emptiness, before twisting in agonising starvation. His torso hollowed.

"Please," she cried, her voice broken, cracked, and pleading. Linh trembled as salty tears fell from her clenched eyes. "Please, don't." Just as a set of invisible hands squeezed his brain and he truly did turn on her, the rage receded when she whimpered, "I'm scared."

He knew she was scared. He could feel it, had smelt it, and could hear it in her voice.

But that wasn't why it knocked him back to temporary sanity. It was because she'd said she was scared... of him.

And he could see she was utterly terrified, even when he rose to put space between them. No? She does not want me? She did not want to be a permanent piece in his precious nest?

The moment she was free enough, she curled into a ball on her side. She wept and covered her chest and stomach, as if she was trying to protect her body from him.

I was mistaken. He did not mean to frighten her, and should not have let his Mavka instincts make him act foolishly, or so aggressively.

He went to cup the side of her face in apology. She recoiled from the touch – one she had accepted the night before and had even leaned into. She let out a screaming cry, as if the mere brush had burned her, and tried to make herself smaller.

The scent of her utter terror was so strong, it flittered into his closed maw to touch his tongue.

Nathair darted to the side to escape and give her space. He slipped into his cold lake with a splash, shifting into a more aquatic and monstrous state as he did, wondering what he'd done so wrong to make the little female weep that intensely.

He did not realise his desire could be rejected so strongly.

I should not keep her here any longer.He covered his face as lucidity broke into the dizziness of his haze, and his orbs shifted to dark orange. Why did I do that? It was like something had come over him...

Now that he understood the depth of his own desire, he wanted this female more than he realised. To not only keep her, but to make her his.

Where his magic light had radiated from her chest, her soul simmered just beneath her flesh. He wanted to take it, to consume it, and bond it to him.

I cannot. She does not wish for the same. I will only vomit it out.

If she stays... He would want it more and more.

He whimpered into the water. Fuck... what if I took away her consent in a trance? He could reach out and just take her soul for himself, and may be too insane to realise what he was doing.

Would him eating it and then spitting it out kill her?

I don't want to hurt her.

Now that he was growing attached to her, the fear of doing so had his hungry gut gurgling with a familiar nausea.