Chapter Two

Naga

My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it in favor of the task on the screen.

"Eat something, Naga." Drake pushed his half-eaten bag of chips in my direction with a low growl.

"I'd rather go hungry than to eat that shit." I turned the bag around before the smell of cheese powder and franken-seasoning blend hit my nose again.

He chuckled. "Then go upstairs and eat. Your stomach is irritating me, and I'm trying to finish up this project."

Everything irritated Drake when he was immersed in a project. He was completing an intelligence report for some secret government agency. I never understood why they didn't have their own analysts, or at least chose not to use them, but we didn't care.

The money in the bank was worth it to keep our mouths shut and our questions to ourselves.

I pushed back from the desk and took a moment to stretch, pulling my arms over my head and bending left and right to extend the movement.

I took the stairs up to the main part of the house, feeling the tug in my calves from sitting too long. We had standing desks, and sometimes I did stand, but for the most part, we sat, hunching over our desks for hours and, in today's case, not eating breakfast or lunch.

The setting sun filtered through the windows that lined the back of our home. I sighed in response to the lavenders and pale roses that painted a backdrop to the trees around our house. Another day spent in the dungeon, as Drake called it. Tucked away from the world. From the sunlight. From any chance of connection with the outside world.

I heated up some leftover rotisserie chicken and made some sandwiches for myself and Drake. Sandwiches were fine with me, and our work was fulfilling, but things were getting stale for me.

They were for Drake as well. We weren't complainers, for the most part. It was part of our therapy. See the good. Look for the positive. Try to be one part better every day.

Flowery words, but the person who gave them to us to chant had no clue what it was like for us to be in our bodies, bearing the scars of what we had been through when we were deployed. Sure, each of us had sessions where we divulged details and experiences we would otherwise never speak of, but they were simply that—words.

No one could feel the wounds for us. Hear the zipping of bullets or the booms of explosions. Civilians didn't know the way the ground shook when a tank drove by or hear the cries of children even when there were none around.

They could listen and sympathize, but the experience wouldn't ever be threaded through them like it was for us.

I downed the sandwiches while listening to the crickets and frogs alert us that night was on the way.

"Those for me?" Drake asked, shutting the door to the basement behind him. It had a keypad entry system and only we knew the code. There were layers upon layers of confidential information down there. We couldn't take a chance.

There was information in our basement office that could topple societies and bring down the financial structures of at least two countries.

The thought was heavy, but it also provided a sense of job security.

No one would fire us. We knew too much.

"Yeah. It's not enough though. I'm still hungry."

Drake nodded while inhaling one of the sandwiches in two bites. He finished chewing and then said, "I got it."

"Did you finish up?" I asked while he took out the eggs and a few other things.

"I did. It's all sent. I sent a copy to myself and a blind copy to our encrypted email. Everything is on a drive and already in the safe."

I snorted. "My stomach must've really been bothering you. Once I left, you made quick work."

He sighed. "It wasn't your stomach. It was me. Sometimes I hesitate when finishing up a report because that means it's a start of a new one."

The monotony of our lives had slithered under our skin. Humans. Shifters. All creatures needed routine, yes, but it was the surprises that made life worth living.

There was another issue, of course. Our serpents were hungry for a mate. We'd figured out through our animal's bond that we were meant to share a mate between us, which made sense. We were best friends. Had endured what hells life had to offer and come out on the other side. We lived together. Worked together.

It didn't make sense to me that we would do anything other than share a mate.

Except, how in the fuck were we supposed to find a mate when we were holed up in our den all day, only coming up for air and sustenance.

The only other person we saw was the errant delivery driver or some person trying to get us to subscribe to their pest control.

We were serpent shifters. We were the pest control.

"Are you done for the night?" I asked Drake as we dug into our second dinner of eggs, pancakes, and bacon.

"Yeah. I'm gonna grab a book and sit outside by the fire."

I nodded. We could've watched movies or TV but, after a long day, the last thing we wanted was another screen. "I might join you."