"Krys, let me rub your back," Leon purred, his voice dripping with false innocence. "No one can do it better than me when I am massaging you."
I knew that tone. That was a jab, aimed squarely at Soryn, who sat coiled on a nearby rock, his serpentine lower body arranged in neat loops, his human torso gleaming with water droplets in the afternoon sun.
It had been one week since we had begun living together as four; three mates and one very overwhelmed female. One week of navigating territorial disputes that would have made diplomats weep. One week of petty squabbles, backhanded compliments, and competitive displays of masculinity that would have been exhausting if they were not so utterly ridiculous.
Leon and Ravin had not fully accepted Soryn into our little family. Ravin, at least, possessed maturity; he kept his grievances buried beneath a veneer of politeness, though I occasionally caught him glaring at Soryn when he thought I was not looking. But Leon? Leon wore his jealousy like a badge of honor, brandishing it at every opportunity.
Soryn, for his part, seemed to find the entire situation amusing. He gave as good as he got, his dry humor and quick wit making him a formidable opponent in their ongoing war of words.
We were bathing in the stream, all four of us, when the inevitable happened.
I was waist-deep in the cool water, scrubbing river sand from my arms, when Leon suddenly vanished beneath the surface. One moment he was standing beside me, the next he was gone, pulled under with such force that a geyser of water erupted where he had stood.
He came back up sputtering, his dark hair plastered to his face, his eyes wide and furious. He looked like a wet cat; indignant, bedraggled, and hilariously adorable.
"You slithering bastard!" Leon huffed, whirling toward Soryn, who had not moved from his rock.
Soryn looked at him with mocked innocence, his emerald eyes wide and guileless. "What are you talking about? I have been sitting here. I have not moved an inch." He spread his hands in a gesture of helpless confusion. "Are you blaming me for your own clumsiness?"
"I know it was your tail!" Leon shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. "Stop playing innocent!"
"What tail?" Soryn asked, his voice dripping with sincerity. He lifted his tail from the rock, displaying it for all to see. "Mine is right here. See? Attached. Accounted for. Completely innocent."
"You pulled it back after trying to drown me!" Leon continued, splashing toward him.
"That is enough, Leon," Ravin cut in, his voice carrying the weight of eldest brother authority.
"But brother, he—"
"There, there," I interrupted quickly, desperate to change the subject before someone actually got hurt. I rotated my shoulder with an exaggerated wince. "My shoulder is still stiff. Are you forgetting me, Leon?"
Leon deflated instantly, his anger forgotten in the face of my supposed need. "Your shoulder? Where? Here?" He was at my side in an instant, his hands finding the muscle with practiced precision.
The week had been eventful, to say the least. Soryn made the atmosphere entertaining but also headache-prone, his presence like a spark in a room full of dry tinder.
The second day of our cohabitation, he and Ravin had gotten into it over something trivial; who would carry the water, I think, or perhaps the proper way to arrange sleeping furs. I had shut it down pretty quickly with a look that could have curdled milk. Ravin, being mature, had backed off with grace. The exchange had been tense but brief, nothing like the volcanic eruptions that characterized Leon and Soryn’s interactions.
The third day, Soryn had taken it upon himself to hunt for me, tracking a boar through the forest with serpentine patience. Leon had returned from his own hunt to find me admiring the carcass, and his face had darkened like a thundercloud.
"It was my day to hunt for her," Leon had growled, his claws extending.
"Was it?" Soryn had asked, his tongue flickering. "I must have forgotten. The calendar of mate obligations is so very complex."
I had stepped between them before blood could be shed, informing them that they could both hunt, that I would happily eat whatever they provided, that more food was always welcome.
Soryn had brought the boar. Leon had returned with a bird, scrawny and barely enough to feed one.
Maybe it was a male thing, that competitive instinct to provide, to be the best hunter, the most capable protector. Whatever it was, Leon had not let it go. He had picked on Soryn for days afterward, mocking his choice of prey, saying he clearly did not understand pregnancy since boar had so much fat and I needed lean meat.
Honestly, I had wanted the boar. Desperately. The craving hit me like a physical need, my mouth watering at the thought of rich, fatty meat. But I could not hurt Leon’s pride, could not let him think himself inadequate. So I had lied, claiming I wanted both, that the litter wanted variety, that I simply could not choose between such generous offerings.
Both males had been delighted. I had gotten my boar and my bird. Win-win, as I would have said in my old life.
Throughout the week, there had been countless petty moments. Leon and Soryn bickered more than Ravin and Soryn ever did, their personalities clashing like flint and steel. Soryn had started to respect Ravin’s position as first mate, deferring to him on matters of household order and village protocol. For my sake, he said, though I suspected he simply found Ravin less irritating than Leon.
But when it came to Leon? Well.
They pulled each other into streams. They competed over who could bring me the better gift, the fresher water, the softer fur. They argued about everything from the proper way to build a fire to the optimal temperature for my bathwater.
It was exhausting. It was ridiculous. It was... actually kind of fun.
A bit of rivalry kept things interesting, right?
I leaned back against Leon’s skilled hands, watching Soryn from the corner of my eye as he smirked at the wet lion, and thought that maybe, just maybe, this chaotic arrangement could work after all.
I wouldn’t say I’d completely accepted Soryn. There were still moments; frequent, humiliating moments; when he moved too quickly or his scales brushed my skin unexpectedly and I tensed, my body betraying my mind’s intentions. I had hurt his feelings unintentionally, flinching from his touch, recoiling from his presence, and I hated myself for it. But it had gotten better. Incrementally, painfully, better.
It was only when he shifted to his beast form that I truly faltered, when fifty feet of serpentine muscle coiled and uncoiled before me and my brain screamed predator despite everything I knew about him. But when he remained like this; human form or man form as they called it, his emerald eyes soft and uncertain; I found I didn’t mind his proximity. He wasn’t scary and my mind could adjust so much better, I was able to treat him with care and not fear.
I was trying. That was what mattered. I was trying.
On our way back home, the sun beginning its descent toward the tree line, I watched Soryn slither behind us, his serpentine lower body moving with hypnotic grace over the forest floor. He kept his distance, always respectful, never presuming. And something in my chest ached at the sight.
I stopped walking.
"Hey, Soryn."
He paused, his head lifting, his tongue flickering with cautious hope. "Yes, Krys? What is it?"
He slithered closer, closing the gap between us, and I could see the uncertainty in his eyes; the fear that I was about to reject him, correct him, push him away again.
"My legs are tired," I said, the words coming out before I could second guess them. "Do you mind carrying me back home?"
He went very still. His gaze dropped to his own body, to the emerald coils that supported him, and when he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled, stripped of expectation. "Did you want me to put my tail away? Shift fully into my man form?"
He sounded downcast at the prospect, resigned to the inconvenience of dragging himself on human legs for my comfort. As though he expected me to find him repulsive, to demand he hide what he was before I would allow him to touch me.
"No," I said firmly, stepping closer to him. "You are much faster with your tail. You can just take me like that."
His head snapped up, emerald eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, he simply stared at me, as though waiting for the punchline, the cruel reversal. Then, understanding dawning, he moved.
He was at my side in an instant, his coils arranging themselves into a nest, a seat, a throne designed specifically for me. He lifted me with gentle strength, his human arms supporting my back while his serpentine body rose to meet me, cradling me in cool, smooth scales that felt like silk and steel.
This time; this time, I didn’t flinch.
I felt the contact, the alien texture, the strangeness of being held by something so different from my lions. Butterflies erupted in the pit of my stomach, nervous energy and anticipation and the thrill of doing something that scared me. But I didn’t pull away. Didn’t tense. Didn’t recoil.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, settling against him, and felt the tremor that ran through his frame.
He looked indifferent, his expression carefully schooled into neutral acceptance. But beneath my palms, pressed against the bare skin of his chest, I could feel his heart hammering; a frantic, desperate rhythm that betrayed every emotion he tried to hide.
He was nervous.
The realization struck me with unexpected tenderness. This serpent prince, this powerful male who had faced death and solitude and rejection with dry humor and sharp wit, was nervous because I had asked him to carry me. Because I had chosen his comfort over my own fear.
How cute.
I pressed my face into the curve of his neck, hiding my smile, and felt him relax by degrees, his coils tightening just enough to secure me without restricting.
Behind us, I heard a low growl.
I looked back to see Leon staring at us, his dark eyes narrowed, his jaw tight with barely suppressed jealousy. He looked like he wanted to rip me from Soryn’s coils and carry me himself, prove his superiority through sheer possessive display.
Ravin walked beside him, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable. But I knew him. I knew the way his ears flattened slightly, the way his hand found the hilt of his knife and gripped it too tight. He was jealous too. Probably just as much as Leon. He simply refused to show it, refused to let his maturity slip in front of me.
I met Ravin’s gaze, held it, and saw something complicated flash there; possession, hurt, resignation, and something that looked almost like approval.
Ravin knew my internal struggle to accept Soryn. He had watched me fight my fear, wrestle with my aversion, slowly open my heart to the serpent who had saved my life. And as much as he loved me, as much as he wanted to be my only one, he never wanted to stand in the way of my happiness. He understood that Soryn was part of my path now, part of my survival, part of my future. He truly was the greatest first mate any female could ask for.
As we slowly reached out home, I smiled to myself. Despite everything, this moment right now is perfect.