Serpent's Tooth. James Axler

resulting in beings who had to drag themselves along by their arms, resting on a long, undulating monolimb that was not designed for supporting the weight of a human torso.

      “Naja Durga has returned from his recent expedition,” Manticor stated. “He requests the company of his promised bride.”

      Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “In other words, ‘I’m home. Where’s my fuck?’”

      Manticor winced at the harshness of his charge’s language. Hannah knew that Manticor was also pained by the thought of Hannah being pressed into a loveless marriage. “I am sorry, Excellence.”

      Hannah ran her delicate fingertips across the tough chest plates on the snake man’s pectoral muscles. Her hazel eyes sought his, penetrating deep into their brown, smoldering depths. “I am sorry, as well, my loyal protector. I meant no crudeness for your ears. Tell my cousin that if he wishes to see me, he can find me in my chambers.”

      Manticor’s scaled lips tightened into a bloodless line. “He won’t be pleased.”

      “If Durga deems it necessary to punish you, he will never know my touch again,” Hannah promised, rage giving edge to her voice. “No. He’ll know the touch of my feet once I’ve finished kicking him to death.”

      Manticor stepped away from her touch. Shame had smothered whatever joy had been awakened by Hannah’s caress. Manticor’s duty was to the Nagah Protectorate, the elite who defended the royal family. That duty meant that he would give his life for the precious Princess Hannah. In the larger scheme of things, it meant that he had to ensure that the crown prince’s bride would bear him the means to carry on his family dynasty. His life, influenced by an affection and attraction to Hannah, was commanded by an oath to see the thing he loved most in the world hauled off to an embittered being who saw her only as a means to extend his genetic viability.

      Hannah regretted being so familiar with Manticor, speaking the thoughts that flashed behind dark eyes. She regretted that his devotion to her had sparked a kindred love. Manticor was the shining knight every girl wanted, be they human or Nagah. Tall, strong and selflessly committed to her, Manticor was Hannah’s body and soul. All she had to do was ask, and he’d be hers forever. Were there a place for the two Nagah to flee in the human world, she would abandon her crown and leave with him. Instead, she was trapped. Serpents were not welcome aboveground, and the humans who interacted with the Nagah were rare outside of the underground realm. Hannah and Manticor would be hunted by snake and shunned by man.

      “I will tell Naja Durga of your intentions,” Manticor said. After a pause, he chuckled nervously. “Intention to wait for him in your chambers, not the kicking thing.”

      Hannah gave him a weak smile, then the official gesture of dismissal. Released, the bodyguard left the lagoon chamber, and his discomfort. She watched him bow as he left the private swimming area. Hannah made her way slowly to her chambers.

      The dread-filled wait for Durga’s arrival began.

      DURGA ROLLED OVER, spent in his carnal energies. His member retreated back into its protective sheath of armored scales, smearing his and Hannah’s mixed love juices on the flat plates of his groin. He licked at Hannah’s hood, tongue trailing to the crook of her neck before kissing her. “Be a dear and clean our mess off me.”

      Hannah, panting and sore, glared at him. Her eyes flicked down to the glistening cocktail in his lap. “I am a princess of the blood, not some bathing maid. Get a washcloth.”

      She rolled on the mattress, pulling away from his grasp, staring at the tapestry on her chamber wall. Hannah hunched her shoulders, trying to create a wall between Durga and herself. Powerful fingers dug into her shoulder, and Hannah grimaced as he whipped her around so that they were face-to-face. She looked at the damaged scales over his right eye. The scar was a livid, jagged slash carved into his armored skin. His once golden iris was muted as it swam in a bloodshot orb. It was a memento of his encounter with the humans of the Millennial Consortium. The eye that peered at her looked harsh, unhealthy.

      “Your king demands your service,” Durga snarled threateningly.

      Hannah’s upper lip curled back, her fangs flexing into position. “You’ll regret it.”

      Durga pushed her away, sitting up. “We are of the same royal blood. Your venom would not harm me.”

      “No, but my teeth are still sharp enough to tear your dick to shreds,” Hannah returned, exiting the bed to get away from him.

      Durga watched her move. Even angry, she had the grace of a dancer. “You would end the trueblood? For what? Dignity? Even sucking me off, you’re still a queen.”

      Hannah tugged her wrap around her naked form, stepping closer to the chamber entrance. “Then why act as if I’m just a whore?”

      “Take one more step, and it will be you who will harbor regrets,” Durga promised. His hood flexed, flaring as the muscle stretched his neck in anger.

      “If your touch leaves a mark, the Nagah will forget about your pure blood and let you know how they feel about your bigotry,” Hannah warned. “When the bulk of your people are newbloods, you don’t have much room to alienate them.”

      Durga smirked, his orange eye flashing like a fire in a pit. “Manticor.”

      “You wouldn’t,” Hannah stated.

      “He would follow my orders. He’d assault the gates of hell armed with a toothpick if I told him to,” Durga replied, sneering at her. “He will do his duty, and his duty, ultimately, is my will.”

      “I would damn you to hell,” Hannah said, sighing, “but you’d be in charge inside of ten minutes.”

      Durga smiled. “Come here, lover. On your knees.”

      Hannah clenched her golden eyes shut, tear ducts burning like acid.

      “Your dignity or my majesty,” Durga taunted. “Make your choice.”

      Hannah’s eyes snapped open in a glare, but in her heart she knew the true choice didn’t involve either of the royal Nagahs’ pride. The life of a good, upstanding, selfless being was at stake. Even if Hannah hadn’t harbored affection for the loyal Manticor, she couldn’t allow harm to come to one of her people, especially when she had a say in the matter. It was her duty as ruler to sacrifice for her people, she told herself.

      Not completely, she corrected. Self-service did play a role in her decision. As long as Manticor lived, there was a chance that they would have an opportunity to become lovers, to grow old together.

      She stepped to Durga, knelt, closed her eyes and thought of Manticor.

      WHENEVER HANNAH WAS CALLED to bed with the trueblood prince, Manticor always found it easier to be elsewhere in the ancient caverns of the Nagah. He wasn’t blind to the affection that she showed him, but also knew that such love was a leash that Durga wielded to control his chosen bride. Hannah only alluded to her dealings with Durga, but the hints formed an ugly picture, that made Manticor regret the strength of his fealty to the royal family.

      Durga’s father, Garuda, had died defending their underworld realm, fallen as he battled against armored invaders from across the Pacific Ocean. The humans had called themselves Magistrates, and they sought the technology of the Nagah, most especially the ancient genetic-manipulation devices left behind by their creator, one of the dragon gods of the stars. The capacity for cloning and human alteration was too important to the hybrid barons who ruled America. Though they had their own genetics program and production facility, the thought of others possessing such advancements was anathema to them. Garuda, the fallen king, had offered to share with the barons, but greed had proved too much to allow such compromise.

      The shooting war was brief and savage. Garuda led the Nagah warriors in a conflict against the baronial expeditionary force. The Magistrates had been exterminated, but at enormous cost, with Garuda dying as he destroyed the last of the Deathbird helicopters. Mortally wounded by the gunship’s machine gun, Garuda struck the craft from