Chapter 12

With water trickling over her head, Linh covered her tear-swollen face with both hands. She put one foot on top of the other and squeezed her knees to her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller.

To hide – from Nathair, and how she felt. The shame of how quickly she'd broken under the weight of her fear. The way guilt twisted in her chest at knowing he did nothing wrong.

I said I trusted him and then immediately broke into tears when I felt his dick.

And she felt so awful that the only reason she was even bathing was because something slimy had rubbed off it onto her thigh and hip. Even when it'd dried, it itched, irritating her skin and making her cry harder.

She wanted to remove it, and the subtle warmth that it'd left behind. She'd needed to douse and shock herself back to normality, and yet she hadn't stopped crying since.

I just locked up. They'd been having such a good morning. I went from trying to keep him cuddling with me to screaming. He must be so confused.

Why did I do that? She knew why, and the horrible memories only made her overwrought.

She hadn't been scared until she felt his dick. She'd known he must have had one hidden away, but she hadn't been anxious about it before. The moment it touched her, she remembered being pinned down, choked to quieten her screams and cries, and she'd been terrified of it happening again.

No. It was worse.

Although Bragg had been undoubtfully cruel to her as her ‘husband,' she'd never trusted him. She'd never cared for him. The moment he'd beaten her father, she'd hated him.

If Nathair had continued, Linh knew she would have felt unequivocally... betrayed.

I care about him. He makes me feel safe. She'd even felt desire towards him, and all his inhuman qualities. Oh gods. Do I like him because he's a Duskwalker? Nothing about him felt human.

Not the softness of his large hands, his scaly skin, the coolness of his body temperature. Even his dick felt weird. Like a gigantic, spirally flower bud she knew would tear her in half.

The size hadn't frightened her, just it – what it was, what it could do. How it could make her feel, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. What it could take away.

I didn't want to be broken, she mentally lamented as she cried. I didn't want my first time to be filled with tears.

She'd always thought she'd fall in love first.

"No," she whispered, pushing her hands up to fist her hair. "Don't think about it. It didn't happen," she insisted to the air around her. She covered her mouth when her trembling lips irritated her, yet her shaking hands only seemed to make it worse.

She didn't mind that Nathair desired her. She was actually a little giddy about it, despite her current panicked state. Linh was a woman, and he was a man of sorts – she wasn't overly surprised he'd developed those kinds of feelings. He was probably lonely, and they did seem to get along well.

She knew her trust in him was utterly warped by her trauma. She didn't want him to be human. She would have been constantly watching her back had he been one, worried he was only being kind to her so she'd let her guard down.

I was never that way before. She was once carefree and happy. A silly girl who thought the world was filled with butterflies, rainbows, and fairies. Who, while knowing Demons existed, had loved her life.

In her village, she'd been quiet because she had to be. She'd wanted people to respect her, and her father, but simmering beneath the surface had been an immature brat grinning ear-to-ear with mischief. Behind closed doors, she'd pranked her mother, her father, and even her grandmother before she passed away.

Now all she knew was that pain had nestled into her heart, and she was so scared of being touched intimately that it physically made her want to hurl.

The fact that she'd felt desire towards Nathair, only to lock up when receiving it back, hurt so deeply. She probably looked so pitiful curled up into a ball on her side.

Would the old Linh have teased him and tried to rile him up in hopes she could make him crazed? She wanted that to be the old her, and she wanted to take back the possibility of that side of herself. To be the kind of woman who was confident enough to open her thighs and crook her finger while coyly singing, ‘Come here, big boy.'

Linh palmed her nose as she tried to settle her tears. She sniffled, but her nostrils were so blocked she couldn't take a breath through them.

She wanted to calm down and apologise. Her bottom lip trembled when she felt so bad for thinking: At least he can't ask me about it.

Honestly, Linh just hoped he pretended nothing had happened. It'd make her feel better; a lie surrounding the resolution of how she'd acted.

She didn't know what to do about his desire. If she hadn't felt her own during the cuddle, she would have detested the idea, but she couldn't ignore it.

I liked it when he held me like that. And, right now, she kind of wanted him to squeeze her tightly with his entire serpent body. To wring out the sickness and trauma trapped beneath her skin until she shed it.

His claws had felt nice dancing across her skin, and his smell had been mind-lulling.

He's so nice. He took care of her needs to the best of his capabilities inside a cave. He made sure everywhere she went was safe, and even allowed her a moment to splash in the ocean while making sure no Demons would eat her. And he's funny.

Who the hell plays dead when someone falls on them?

She brought her hand up and closed it until it looked like a snake. She flapped it open and shut, mimicking the way he moved his mouth.

I didn't think I'd be able to smile or laugh again after everything. If someone had cracked a joke, Linh had a feeling she would have just stared at the person blankly. She'd needed the humour to be ridiculous. For her saviour to be out of the norm.

For life to be completely and utterly skewed in reality.

For it to feel so wrong that it felt right.

The cave, his home – she shouldn't be here. She adored it for that reason.

She was living in the dark, and she found that far less scary than being in the sunlight in a bandit camp.

Once more, Linh sniffled but otherwise was finished with weeping. She felt worse from crying. It hadn't been therapeutic. It hadn't felt good to shed her tears, simply because the reason behind them was so horrible. No human, regardless of their gender, should be forced to cry for such a reason. No one deserved to feel so raw inside that their mind was littered with scars no one could see.

Utterly thankful for the glowing magic circle on her chest lighting the way, she crawled towards her clothing. She donned her lavender dress and grey pants, even though they were still damp from washing them.

They felt safer. If his dick decided to pop out and say hello again, she wouldn't feel it against her skin. She wouldn't feel so exposed.

She hated that's why she was putting them on.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him. Nathair literally showed her he had no intention of violating her without her consent. He'd given her more respect than she'd received in the past two months.

She didn't trust herself. M-maybe if I wear pants, I won't get scared again.

She'd like to experiment on how she felt regarding his desire, and the possibility of her own, without instantly locking up and panicking.

She blushed at her thoughts, her mind feeling scattered. Her heart was all over the place, confused and wary.

Picking up her pink-and-green dress with leaf patterns, she cringed. Gosh. I feel so pathetic that I can't even wear this right now. It was a dress, and suddenly she was petrified of it. A piece of clothing.

Fisting it in her hand, she stormed her way back to the main area. Nathair wasn't there.

The dust particles glittering in the streaks of sunlight made the dim cave bright. Now that she knew what the lump on the other side of the crescent-shaped cave floor was, her cheeks heated as she glanced at it.

Embarrassment combined with shame and giddy nervousness had her casting her gaze away like it was a spooky shadow.

Linh started the fire again, fumbling with the flint and steel due to shivering from her damp clothes. Then, with her back against the wall and her arms around her bent knees, she sat by it for what seemed like hours, waiting to dry, and for Nathair's return.

She never doubted for a second that he wouldn't.

She would have cracked a joke about how he couldn't escape her because it was his home, but she didn't particularly find any of this funny.

Since she was staring at the inky water, she saw the moment the top half of his white snake skull breached the surface.

Her brows drew together when she took in his blue orbs, never having seen them turn that colour before. He didn't lift higher for a long while – just his head visible – and they stared at each other.

"Hey," she eventually croaked out to break the tension. She even offered him a cringing smile. "I-I'm really sorry about before."

His orbs darkened in their blue hue, and he swam towards the ledge. His movements were slow, calculated, and careful as he used his arms to drag himself out. Nathair looked tense, as if he worried any sudden movements might have her bursting into tears again.

He's probably upset with me. Sh-should I just explain a little bit about it? At least enough to ensure he knew it wasn't his fault, and that her rejection hadn't come from a place of disgust at him.

She knew her answer immediately: she had to be fair to him, even if it hurt her chest.

"About before..." she started, eyeing him warily as he came closer. She frowned when he picked up her special shell from the beach. "A-about before, it's not your fault..."

Her frown deepened when he picked up her shoes, then her water sack, before grabbing her bag. He placed them inside it. Then he gave Linh the satchel, and she took it while rather confused.

"Are we going somewhere?" she asked when he offered out his hand.

Wanting to show him she did, in fact, trust him, she put her hand in his big palm. She immediately noted how soft it was, even compared to her own, and how it swallowed her up. He gingerly lifted her to her feet, only to put his arms behind her so he could lift her into a safe cradle.

"Nathair?" she asked, eyeing the ground.

He started slithering towards the lake, and not the cave opening. She knew where it led: his pond. With every millisecond that passed, her heart doubled its speed. Realisation dawned, and her entire being went cold.

"No!" she screamed, shoving at his chest, his face, anywhere she could to separate them. He gave her the tiniest growl, and renewed tears instantly welled as she kicked and punched at him. "No! I don't want to."

Ignoring her, he began to drop into the water.

Frantic, desperate to stay on the land, she grabbed a jutting rock. She kicked him in the head before he could submerge her, and it forced him to let her go. A guttural noise tore from the Duskwalker, but she refused to listen as she scrambled to get away from him.

Linh, with tears freely falling, clawed at the rock with all her might.

Betrayal stung her chest so intensely she thought her squeezing, fright-filled heart would give out.

With a snarl, angry at himself and not at her, Nathair leapt forward and grabbed her ankle. She screamed when he dragged her across the ground and back towards the water.

It'd taken him hours. Long, agonising, conflicting hours to make this decision.

As much as he wanted to keep this little female, this cute creature that desired his protection, she couldn't stay. No matter what he felt towards her – affection, fondness, desire, friendship – she wasn't safe.

He was bound to hurt her; he'd already done so.

He was too unstable, too large, too different.

Nathair had tried to convince himself otherwise; maybe they could resolve his fractured mind and he could speak to her. He wanted to believe he could win her heart, obtain her soul, and make this alluring creature his bride.

The moment she sat in his nest, the nagging, deep-seated yearning clung to his scales like water. Linh as his female. For him to treasure, cherish, and covet. To protect, touch, and marvel at like a gem sparkling in the sunlight.

But she didn't want that, and he was too much of a monster to know that would not bode well.

Nathair was a Mavka.

They were stupid. Emotional. They thought with instincts rather than with sense.

He had just enough lucidity and humanity to know that if she smelt of arousal again, if she climbed into his nest again, he was doomed. She was doomed.

It was better they parted ways now, before she could envenom his heart even more with her wiles, her smile, and her lovely voice and scent.

"Please!" she squealed, sobbing. "Please don't make me leave!"

Linh kicked, threatening to strike him in the skull again, and his sight shifted to dark orange. Why does she have to fight? She didn't truly want to be here, not if she knew what he wanted. Why does she fight? She should be fucking running away from him!

She should want to be freed.

She was the most confusing captive. It was like she'd lured herself here. And her squirming was not aiding her. It only made his sight threaten to shift to red in hunger.

He let her go when it was too much. When the grip of invisible hands wrung at his brain to try to enrage him. Clutching the side of his skull, he shuddered at the vile thoughts of tearing her limb from limb.

"I'm sorry!" she yelled, backing away from him once more. He slipped beneath the water until his gills were covered to escape the dizzying scent of her fear. "I didn't mean to cry. I didn't mean to get scared."

With a groan, he darted his fuzzy sight to her.

Fuck, she looked horrible. Her face was so pink and swollen from tears, and the rest of her filled with fright.

"I promise I won't cry anymore," she stated, while crying.

Her heart was beating so fast it throbbed in the back of his throat and assaulted his ear holes.

Dozens of faces flittered into his mind, all of them tear-filled and crying. Strangers, friends, and even family members of the fragments. He choked on each one, and yet the silhouette of her face played behind them. Their sobs mixed in with hers.

Strangled by the onslaught, bubbles pushed out of his gills and he clutched at his throat. The urge to bash his head against something in a pointless attempt to stop them nagged at him. Fragments clutched at him, moments from disorientating him and stealing his lucidity.

"It wasn't your fault. I wasn't scared of you."

That had to be a lie. He'd scented her fear. She'd recoiled from his apologetic touch. She'd curled up into a fucking ball like he was a villain, and he hadn't liked the way guilt weighed in his gut.

The first instance of him letting the human side of him slip, his Mavka instincts taking hold, and this female had turned from him.

He wanted to believe her.

He didn't, so he clawed back onto the land when the worst of the fragments stopped hounding him. She scuttled back, and only just missed the fire.

"Someone hurt me," she tried to explain, her entire body shaking. Droplets of water splattered against the ground, and he trailed a path of them to her. She cowered, shrinking against the ground and rocky wall. "I w-want to stay here with you!"

I don't understand. She was confusing him.

Nathair paused and just let out a fucking whine. Why the fuck are you doing this to me?!

"I know what you are. I know you're a Duskwalker. I know that every moment I'm here, you may eat me, and I don't care. I don't care if you hurt me accidentally. I know I'm intruding on your home, but I just feel so safe with you. I know that doesn't make any sense."

When he didn't do anything but tower over her, his hands opening and closing with mixed emotions, she braved peeking up over her forearms.

"At first I wanted to stay here in hopes you would help my people, b-but it's okay if you don't. Just... please don't make me face the Demons by myself, d-don't let me be taken by the bandits again. P-please don't hurt me in the way they did."

His head reared back. The way... they did? Realisation began to trickle into his mind, and he turned his gaze towards his nest. She did not mind being held, or when I cupped her face, or even when I carried her.

There were two fragments that Nathair despised, and he tended to act rather violently when suffering through them. Two different memories, belonging to two different humans who had never met: one in which he was a victim... and one where he was the perpetrator. He hated the latter, hated he was forced to suffer through something he'd never done, would never do.

Neither were pleasant, and he often felt rather sickly afterwards. He'd long to shed his scales after both, and had even once done so on his left arm when desperate.

He brought his gaze back to her and tilted his head. It's true she was never afraid of me until...

The bitter snarl that burst from him was dark. Nathair darted his hands forward. He pushed her arms to the side before he shoved into her chest.

The little female gasped, her back arching, while her body wavered around his embedded fist. Blistering heat surrounded his hand as he carefully grasped what felt like a flame.

Nathair pulled her soul from her.

The moment he opened his hand, her soul sprung to life. It retreated to his fingers, pressing against them like skittish, cornered prey against a wall. It looked up at him in utter terror.

Markings on a soul could vary, and he'd seen countless different kinds in Tenebris. The darkness of depression, the whiteness of physical scars, the cracks and craters of sickness.

But this? Tiny red handprints left their markings on her soul, and were the evidence that someone else fucked with it while its owner lived. Actions so utterly cruel and unforgivable to the point they left burns on their victim's soul like a physical taint. There were only two kinds of violence that could cause them.

Weldir told him they could be healed, but while they lingered, they were like parasites. They messed with the human bearing them, making them act out of character – often with fear and sadness.

Without nurturing, the soul could be permanently marred.

And this poor female's soul had four burns from what he could see: on the left side of its face, its left inner thigh, its right breast and shoulder, and one that spanned over both wrists. There could be more on its back, but he couldn't tell.

He didn't know if all four were from physical violence, or sexual, nor did it inform him if it were multiple people or just one vile cretin. It didn't matter. Linh was tiny, petite, and defenceless. No one deserved these parasitic markings, especially not this alluring creature.

But, due to her earlier reaction, he knew.

Nathair knew why she did not mind his hold, but the feel of his arousal had given her such a concerning reaction.

She was right. It was not his fault, nor was it hers.

While he held it, Nathair admired her beautiful soul. It looked just like her, from her generous breasts, round backside, her narrow waist, the gentle shape of her face, to even her long, straight hair. He lifted his palm and nuzzled it with the back of his index finger.

It didn't particularly like that – her infected soul was likely untrusting of anything – but that was fine. He'd like to teach it that not everyone, or everything, would cause it harm.

He lowered it to take in Linh's frozen gawk. Her eyes were riveted to it, and she watched as he tipped his hand down and let her soul find its way back to its owner.

"What the fuck did you just take from me?" she asked, surprising him due to her swearing. He couldn't remember her doing so before.

I did not take it. I borrowed it – momentarily. I did return it. He thought all this to justify what he'd done.

Especially since... if he had ripped it, the little female before him would have died instantly. A soul was an exact replica of the current living body. Had he destroyed it, she and it would disappear forever – no human could survive being in two pieces.

It was why they could not be shared between Mavka; not that his possessive kind could handle sharing anything on such a deep and territorial level anyway. Weldir had been able to warn him of this, as well as many other things.

An eaten soul pieced back together within Mavka and Demon stomachs, and turned white to signify its death. However, to eat a soul while its wielder still lived... a Mavka's body bonded to it protectively.

They were delicate things.

Linh cast her gawk up at him, and he greeted it with understanding.

This tiny creature longed to be protected because the world had been undeniably cruel. She'd turned to him for it, latching onto a monster that could, literally, fight all her Demons – including the ugly ones clinging to her soul, should she allow it.

He'd scented her arousal before, so not all hope was lost.

The fact she'd felt it at all, and for him no less, meant much and made pride swell behind his sternum. She trusted him more than humans; she could see he wanted to be a benevolent spirit upon the world.

He did not wish to be violent, nor was this why he was created.

The need to remove her from his home for her own safety waned. Instead, his heart ached to shield her from the world even more than he did before. To not only protect her from others, but from the parasitic wounds on herself.

He could not fight them for her; they were not his battle to face. However, he could be her armour, her sword, and her steed, fighting alongside her until she claimed victory.

Maybe she could save him in return somehow.

She makes the fragments easier to handle. His attention was often so focused on her that they grew quieter. Her face sometimes shone brighter than the fragments, her scent stronger than the ones in his mind, her touch grounding him in the present.

She was witty enough to understand him in the silence. Tender enough to try to listen to him when he'd never spoken a word. Her touch was benign, rather than handling him like the massive monster he was.

He hadn't wanted her to leave for these reasons. He'd never truly wanted to let her go, but he'd been worried she wouldn't trust him anymore now that he'd revealed his growing longing. He hadn't even realised how deeply he desired a bride until she came and refused to leave.

Nathair lowered himself and gingerly scooped her up. She recoiled, and her brows swiftly knotted in distress.

The moment she opened her mouth, likely to plead, beg, and cry, Nathair darted his skull forward. He licked her cheek, showing her she didn't need to worry, as he lifted her.

He slithered towards his nest.

"W-wait," she rasped when he placed her inside it.

Then, in case she now associated it with his desires, he curled himself around the outside of its walls. He didn't join her, didn't overwhelm her with his presence, and she watched as he settled down at a distance. Nathair folded his arms on top of the nest's thick ledge and placed his jaw on the x of his forearms.

She may be in danger from him. He may accidentally hurt her with his claws. He may even accidentally steal her soul in a trance.

What he did know was that he would not take this female unwillingly.

He would also try his hardest not to eat her, so that one day he could eat her soul when she was ready to give it to him.

Nathair had decided she was now his, and just hoped she longed to stay so. His home would be a cage for her, one in which he'd leave the door open.

She would need to make the choice, and he would try everything in his might to make her choose him.

With her face stained with tears, swollen and kind of dishevelled from crying, he watched her. She looked tiny in his nest, which was so large he had plenty of room to laze around in it. She sat on top of his bed of treasures, and he knew she was the most precious piece.

She looks like a baby bird. Startled, unsure of the world, and not ready to fly.

His heart radiated with pity and sadness for her, and her puzzled expression only deepened it.

She eyed him skittishly. "Y-you're not getting in?"

He shook his head.

He expected her to look relieved. Instead, once more, her eyes bubbled with liquid.

"You figured it out." As soon as he nodded, she threw her face into her hands and sobbed. "I was hoping you wouldn't! It's not fair."

Nathair hesitated before just reaching out to cup under her chin. She gasped, tried to tear away from him, and he refused to let her.

He made her watch as he opened and closed his maw, then let her chin go to point at her.

"You want me to talk about it?"

He nodded, and she shook her head.

"I don't want to," she whispered, hugging her midsection. "I'm scared that if I talk about it, it makes what happened more real, and I don't want it to be. I don't want to hear myself say it. I want to pretend it didn't happen."

Then we will pretend it did not happen.

If she wanted to speak of it, he would listen. If she never wanted to, then he wouldn't push her. Her path to healing was her own – he would just be conscious of it.

Her crying quickly settled, and he hoped it was because she was at ease in his bed, in his presence. That what he was doing, and trying to say without words, held meaning.

"Nathair," she started, before lowering her gaze.

Yes, little female? He tilted his head to convey his question.

"C-could you hold me like before?" She swiped the heel of her palm over her cheek to get rid of the liquid on it. "It was really comforting."

Permission to enter his own nest was all he needed, and he was rather gleeful she'd given it so swiftly. He pulled himself up and then dropped himself in slowly, so as to not startle her.

"But please don't get offended if I get scared. I don't feel like myself, and sometimes my stomach hurts."

He didn't need her to say this. The moment she was uncomfortable, he would release her. He would like to hold her as well, and had wanted to from the moment he understood what she'd been through.

He thought it was rather brave when she crawled towards him to quicken the pace. She even entered his arms as he started wrapping his lengthy and girthy tail around them both until she was utterly trapped. Until she was completely hidden and shielded from the world.

Linh never grew afraid, and Nathair didn't release her until she desired it.

You are safe in my arms, little female.