His lips curved—not quite a smile, more the ghost of one. He stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating a scent of scorched earth and scales. His tongue flicked, tasting the air between them, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and sinuous, like smoke curling through the dark.
"Not… enough."
Rami opened her mouth, ready to protest, but the words caught in her throat. The way he looked at her—expectant, maybe even amused—left her breathless. Or was it the heat?
She shook her head, once. Then again, firmer. She needed to draw a line somewhere. "I'm full," she said, voice soft but steady.
Yves didn't argue. He merely hissed, a sound more breath than threat, and turned away, his silhouette melting into the shadows of the clan's darker corridors. Rami hesitated, then followed. So far, he was the only thing in this place that hadn't tried to kill her.
He stopped abruptly before a gaping cave mouth, its entrance yawning like the throat of some ancient beast. Without a word, he turned, scooped her into his arms, and leapt.
Air rushed past her ears. Her stomach dropped. For a heartbeat, she was weightless.
Then—
"…Down. You can get down."
His voice, rough and low, grounded her. She peeked through her lashes and saw his feet planted firmly on damp, earthen soil. Letting out a nervous chuckle, she slid down his frame, landing with a soft thud. A cough escaped her lips as she looked around.
The cave was nearly pitch black. Even with her altered senses, she struggled to make out more than vague outlines. But there—nestled in the gloom—was what looked like a bed: a crude nest of moss, grass, and smooth stones, piled with surprising care.
A sinking feeling settled in her gut. This was going to be… an adjustment.
She watched him move, his form cutting through the shadows like a blade. Moonlight spilled in from the cave mouth, casting pale halos across the floor as the clouds outside parted. The light kissed his obsidian scales, turning them a deep, iridescent blue.
He lay down on the nest, stretching out with the lazy grace of a predator at rest. Then, without looking at her, he shifted slightly—making space.
"I'll make it bigger by morning," he murmured, voice low and slurred at the edges. His eyes glinted from the shadows, watching her fidget.
"What do you want?"
The question was blunt, almost bored. But it snapped her out of her daze.
"I… The… That is… Am I supposed to sleep there?"
Yves tilted his head, exhaling a sigh that sounded more like a hiss. "Does it look like there's anywhere else?"
He wasn't wrong. The cave was bare, save for the nest and the cold stone floor.
"Come here," he added, voice softening.
She hesitated, then stepped forward. He reached out, pulling her into his arms with a gentleness that surprised her. His body was cool, smooth, and firm—like coiled stone warmed by the sun. She shivered, but didn't pull away.
The night passed in silence.
When morning came, light spilled into the cave in golden shafts. And there, in the raised corner of the den, lay a massive serpent—its scales black as obsidian, glinting like polished armor. Curled within its coils, nestled like a secret, was a woman. Bare. Her head rested on a thick loop of his body, her breath rising and falling in time with his.