The Serpent King's Unwilling Human Mate

h edge scratching her cheek. "This is so not what I signed u

ones she waited three months on the waitlist for, were caked in thick, oozing mud. The pristine white

m green light filtering through the canopy. She held it up high, waving it around like a beacon. No

hoing through the dense trees before being swallowed by t

answered her. The tour gro

of three years-the one who had dumped her for his "white moonlight" assistant without even a proper goodbye-had texted her about a "spiritual detox" in the woods. She'd reluctantly agreed, mostly to spite him after their messy breakup. But on the drive to the retreat, the sky had turned an unnatural purple, her GPS had glitched, and a blinding flas

ith nature with a guided group,' he said. 'It'll be good for your soul,'

It smelled like rotting meat left out in the sun, mixed with something metallic and sharp.

et. No bugs. No birds. Just the s

shes directly behind her shook violently, the leaves whipping

ugh bark of a tree. "Who's there?" Her voice ca

. Its body resembled a giant porcupine the size of a delivery truck, but its claws were sharp and glowed with a cold, metallic sheen. It

is wasn't real. This couldn't be real. She had just watched those claws tear apart a medi

. She couldn't run-even if she could, that antelope had been faster

slamming into her chest and shaking the leaves above her head. Her phone s

its hide. It leaped, a terrifying blu

ddle of nowhere, eaten by a monster. She mentally cursed Chad one last time-imagining the smug look on his face if

sandpaper scraping against stone, echoed from the canopy above.

old, suffocating, and utterly terrifying. The beast froze in mid-air,

strike. It collided with the beast mid-leap, the impact creating

s cheek. She gasped, the coppery

haze of dust and blood, she saw it. A tail-thicker than a car tire, covered in

its head twisted at

ched to something massive, something that sli

n's mind. This wasn't a bear. This wasn't anything she had ever

lack. Its belly shimmered like liquid metal, and its cold, golden vertical slit eyes locked onto Fallon. The snake'

antophobia? Ophidiophobia? Both? This thing m

of hard scales scraping against dirt-shhh, shh

ter of each scale, the terrifying ripple of musc

, her back against the tree, trembling so violently she

er with that flickering tongue. Then, to her utter shock, it spoke-not in

In the hunting

orrifying clarity: this wasn't just a snake. This was a beastman. In this world, females w

it casually flicked its tail toward the bushes behind them. There, the first beast-the porcupine-monster-had tried to get up for a sneak attack. The

sight of casual, effortless violence br

gs gave out, and she slid down the rough bark of the tree, h

imagined she heard-was that

e's teeth can tear it. When she wakes, I will