Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire

Chapter Forty-Nine
Rhymes with Hex

It was both stunningly beautiful and hypnotically terrifying as it lay there in his hand. The gem encrusted gold metal gleamed in the low light. It was a treasure, certainly, that belonged in a Gringotts vault. Or a museum for archaic torture devices. Some might call it an earring, but it was so much more. Three inches long, it was obviously designed to curve along the shell of the ear from top to lobe. Covered in emeralds and diamonds, it was elaborate, expensive, and outrageous. Eight … well, they could be called nothing less than golden spikes curved into snapping arcs like jaws, opening and closing since there was no flesh for them to grasp.

Kiaya goggled at it, momentarily forgetting that she was there to raise holy hell about her much… nay, her insanely curvy, cartoonish figure that was pushing at the seams of the Arabian Nights costume for the fund raiser. Staring at the snapping spikes made her head hurt but she clenched her hands into fists. Eyes wide with fear, she looked up at Snape through her lashes.

“Once the spikes touch your blood, no one but me can remove it from you unless you want to lose half of your ear.”

“You want to put it….”

“I’m going to, yes, and ‘it’ is called a Concubind. You will wear it with love and honor,” he said, making the last three words sound like a curse.

“I have to subject myself to this… this medieval torture device.…”

“No. I’m subjecting you to it, Your opinion no longer has much weight at all. You’ll wear it and be glad for it; it will bind you to me until I see fit to release you from it. And it’s late Italian Renaissance, not medieval.”

Irritated at the correction, she asked, “But why? Isn’t this stupid auction and act enough?”

“No, we’ve gone over this. Either do it or don’t. Stop quibbling over every little thing,” he ordered.

She almost growled. She gestured to her obviously bespelled breasts that hung like party balloons on her chest. They seemed to be bursting the seams of the hated vest whose tiny single knot did little to hide her new unwelcome size. Not used to the weight and balance required to support the breast, her body tried to compensate by pushing her shoulders back and tilting her hips so her bum stuck out like she was, indeed, swaybacked. “So I have to subject myself to that thing and backaches by strapping these… melons on my chest….”

“You grew them that big, not me. I wouldn’t have made them much more than a handful,” Snape said. His smile was mocking as he held up his long-fingered hand, which compared to hers, were huge.

Deliberately quashing the rage coursing through her body and trying to ignore the humiliation of her situation and the pain of her backache, Kiaya padded barefoot to the desk in their shared office. She knew he was going to be an arse; she’d been prepared for it. She hefted a jar identical to the one full of Swelling Solution that Snape had lobbed at her only hours before. Firing the jar directly as his chest, she rather hoped that he wouldn’t catch it and the stuff would splatter everywhere.

Of course, she wasn’t that lucky. His reflexes were honed by years of grabbing errant children about to do something that would kill them all. He caught the jar neatly in one hand without a bobble. “You don’t like the results of your own game, guess who gets to fix them,” she taunted, assuming that he’d just mock her and make her shrink the… growths herself. While there was the slightest chance that he’d do it himself, the odds, as she calculated them, were in her favor and he’d leave her bloody well alone until the auction. He hadn’t touched her in weeks, after all, so it seemed unlikely.

His smirks bordered on triumphant and in an instant, Kiaya knew that he’d planned it all along. He set the Concubind back into its case and locked it before securing it in his desk.

“Are you covered in PMP?” he asked. His black eyes roved over her body.

She gulped and shook her head.

A flick of his hand locked the door. It sounded like thunder in the almost silent room. “Take off that ridiculous costume,” he ordered. His eyes never left her.

She squeaked the beginnings of her refusal, but her body knew what she wanted – him. Her hands rose to the straining tie on the vest. Feeling herself growing wet and slick at her core, under his gaze, she decided to just give over for her own benefit. Her wand never – ever made her feel as good as his did. She shrugged the vest off – the potion had made her bra impossible. She shimmied out of the harem trousers and her panties and stood before him nude.

He searched her face and obviously found what he was looking for. “Come here.”

It was part of his game, she knew. He could just as easily have come to her. It was only a few short steps that his long legs could have taken in a heartbeat – but it was a mile to her.

She measured the distance on the floor. The stones weren’t evenly spaced, but there were at least fifteen of them between her feet – which she had to lean over to see, over her breasts. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t just the distance that she would have to walk, but the commitment that she would make in doing it. Though she’d agreed to do it, she still had midnight terrors about it all. She swallowed and took the first hesitant step. There was no going back. His half smile appeared again. He’d won. She was within his reach in three steps – and a lifetime.

She trembled, both from the chill in the air and her terrified excitement.

“What do you want?” he asked her.

She swallowed again and fumbled for an answer. A dozen of them popped into her mind. Taking the easy road, she pointed to her breasts and replied, “For you to make these smaller.”

“And?”

She thought and weighed the consequences – desire won out. “For you to make me…” She blushed and dropped her eyes, not wanting to see his ubiquitous smirk.

He leaned forward until his chest rubbed against the hard pebbled nipples of her too-huge breasts. His voice was a sensual slide over her jangled nerves. “I can make you do many things. If you want me to make you do something specific, you have to ask for it.”

Her eyes met his in a panic.

“If you want something – anything - you must ask very sweetly for it,” he ordered.

“Like what?” She asked in a whisper.

He dropped his head to whisper, his lips caressed the shell of her ear. The brush of his skin over hers and the velvet and brandy of his voice made her shiver; her nipples tightened. He opened his robes, coat and shirt with a flick of his wrist as she breathed shallowly. “Everything. Soon, you’ll ask me for everything – to feed you, to allow you to dress, when to bathe, even when to use the toilet.” He stood still, wearing only his trousers. “And you won’t hesitate; it will be second nature to you.”

Resisting the urge to stroke his chest, she marshaled her melting brain to form the objections that she was thinking. None came, though they clamored for release. She could only choke out, “What am I going to get in return for becoming a mindless doll?”

“The satisfaction of serving the side of light and right for the benefit of all good little witches and wizards who don’t deserve a genocidal megalomaniac.”

Her concentration, her desperate lust and her pique broke for just a moment as she chuckled at his winning point in tonight’s verbal skirmish.

His face never changed.

Looking into his fathomless black eyes, she unconsciously assumed a pose that she’d seen her older female students use. Her weight shifted to one hip and her knee relaxed in. She shifted her arms so the tender skin of her elbow was toward him, inviting a caress. Shoulders shifting back, her breasts – as ridiculous as they were – lifted, drawing his gaze. Testing her own boldness and him, she dared a subtle shimmy. Obviously appreciating, Snape took his time lifting his eyes to her face again.

“I mean, from you,” she said, returning to the question.

He considered her question for a moment then dipped his fingers into one of the ever-present jars of Potion Master’s Protectant. He liberally spread the stuff over his hands, arms and face. Another dollop of the greasy goo was spread over his chest. A wave of his wand dried it all and he unscrewed the lid of the Shrinking solution she’d made in her moment of pique. He dipped his fingers in and scooped out the smallest amount.

“You won’t be a mindless doll. You’ll be pleasing in every way,” he said. Reaching out, he gently smoothed the cream over her giant breasts. They shrank immediately under the potion and his massaging hands. He hefted and tested, watchful as her body changed to a more pleasing – and human size, better suited to his desires. No longer the size of melons, her breasts soon fit his large hand perfectly – though she still couldn’t see her feet without craning her neck. “You’ll be my ideal woman when you’re trained to my hand.”

Her knees felt weak as he touched her, though a tiny part of her brain – the part that wasn’t intoxicated by his touch or the sight of his skin or the brandy and black velvet of his voice – objected to his demands. Wasn’t she all right as she was?

He murmured to spell to stop the potion’s efficacy. Expecting him to withdraw, she looked into his face and was shocked by his expression. He seemed to be admiring her body.

The question floated away when she followed his gaze to his hands. He captured her nipples between his fingers, lightly pinching and tugging until he blurred the line between pleasure and pain. It hurt, but the gentle agony made her feel alive and her clit tingle. She parted her legs – she had to.

Severus saw the motion for the invitation that it was.

His words were a soothing stroke down her spine.

“Such a good little cat; your legs should always be open to me.” When she whimpered, he commanded her answer. “What do you want?” he asked.

She knew the answer that he wanted – she’d given it before but bit her lip. He smiled his knowing smile and toyed her full, lush breasts tenderly at first, then digging his fingers into her flesh in a brutal massage that excited her even more. Pain became just another sensation in her awakening body.

“I do like these, kitten. You’re such a good girl for giving me these perfect toys to play with,” he purred.

Taking offense but unwilling to make him stop, she said on a sigh, “I’m not a toy.”

He cruelly twisted her nipple in punishment and she cried out her response as he growled. “For the duration of this little farce, you are my toy – mine! No one else can do this to you.”

She wanted to argue but the words lay unformed on her tongue.

“No one else knows what you crave.”

Deep, massing strokes and full-handed grasps of her tender flesh made her skin pink and her inner thighs wet. Teasing circles drawn around her areola made her tingle deep inside, here she wanted – no, needed - to feel him fill her.

“But I do, and you have only to give yourself to me,” he said and nipped her ear and kissed the pain away.

For half a moment, the deal sounded wonderful and so easy to do. She bit back a moan but an almost savage pinch of her nipple freed the tiny sound, coupled with a whispered, “Please.”

He exhaled his words, “You’re so lovely when you beg, but I will make you the most sensual, exquisite creature to have ever walked the earth. Your body, your mind and your soul will be perfection. Men will lie at your feet, if only to feel your tiny foot. You will be completely and utterly mine.” His hands teased her breasts and she licked her lips, needing more. “I’ll make these bigger,” he said, squeezing her already enlarged breasts, “but just to play with sometimes.” One hand slid into her hair and he tugged, making her head fall back. Lips and teeth ravaged her throat and he said, “Mine! Your hair will be lengthened.” His lips moved over hers until she parted her lips for his invading tongue. “Your lips can be fuller – every man will dream about them. I’ll give you everything you need.”

He savaged her mouth again, claiming her as his property and demanding her response. Never moving his hands from her breasts, he drew her closer. “You’ve already started, your training. I started months ago, when I first made you come in my hands. You respond like the perfect woman – and you will be the perfect slave . Your sweet little ‘please’ and your beautiful begging for pleasure tell me so.”

He spoke a moment too long, or maybe it was a single word that shook her, letting her slide part way out of his sensual spell. Doubt crept in. She didn’t want to be changed. She didn’t want to be ‘trained’. She didn’t want to have to ask to function as an adult. What was wrong with her the way she was?

She didn’t realize that she’d spoken aloud until he answered, “I know you are pretty and so self-sufficient. I know you can make your own choices. But I don’t want that. I want a woman who chooses to give me everything - mind, body and soul. I want a woman who chooses the freedom of letting go and having me decide - letting me make the daily choices so she doesn’t have to - and in doing so, is free to concentrate on love.”

“But you won’t love me,” she said, suddenly cold. She looked around, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. There was nothing to cover herself with. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her breasts then looked down at them, irritated when they mashed against her chest like squashed pillows.

“I’ll care for you as much as I can. I’ll give you every part of me that I can,” he said and rubbed his tingling forearm.

Spotting the pile of cloth on the floor, she snatched up his shirt and slid it around her body, covering her oversized breasts. The scent of him nearly sent her into a puddle of feminine desire.

“You won’t always be able to keep that or cover yourself from me – but I like how you look in my shirt. It makes look like you just rolled out of my bed and makes your legs look longer.”

“Thank God for small mercies. I’m sure you’d change that, too, given the opportunity,” she sassed.

“Not at all. As long as your legs can wrap around my waist, they are just the right length.”

Not wanting him to see her need and the lust that his image inspired, she ignored them and avoided looking at him as she derided, “So I’m supposed to give you everything that I am, heart, mind, body and soul, and I get ‘care’? What kind of crap deal is that?”

She snuck a look at him and was amazed that he was giving her his complete attention. Though his face was carefully blank, at least he wasn’t sneering at her.

“You’ll have more than that. Everyone will know that I won’t stray from you. Everything you give up, I will provide. I have to dance in attendance on you. I have to be available to see to your needs - whenever, wherever, in every way that you need. Everything - food, sex, protection from anyone and everything that isn’t me. Everything that you are, becomes my responsibility.”

She sank down onto the couch, her elbows on her knees and her head bent. She asked, though she knew the answer, “And it can’t be just for show?”

He shook his head and leaned back on his big desk. “For the last time, no. It’s for your protection as well as mine - and with your protection comes Arielle and Jasmine’s - those are non-negotiable for me.”

“And you can’t just marry me? Same protection for everyone, same bloody little benefits…” she said snidely, pointing to her lap. “…Without people even thinking twice about whether or not you’d leave me or if you’re just dallying with my reputation – which will be in tatters on,” she paused, thinking, “Friday night.”

“No, I won’t marry again – nor will I discuss it,” he said with absolute finality.

She sighed her acceptance but asked, “Does it all have to happen at once, this giving myself? I can’t imagine….”

“Time is allowed, if you need it - but we haven’t much of it. Every single day that you’re allowed to take your time learning or whining about the situation is a gift.”

She lifted her chin in the direction of the desk drawer behind his hips, changing the subject. “What does that thing do?”

Raising a wicked eyebrow, he grasped his still-hard cock through his trousers. “This? This is for making you purr and scratch like a kitten in heat.”

Scandalized, she gaped at him, then burst into delighted giggles. His lips twitched into the hint of a smile. Gasping for breath and shocked that he actually had said something humorous on purpose, Kiaya spluttered, “No, no, no.” At his mock-offended raised eyebrow, she amended, “I meant the earring, not your….”

“Say it.” His voice was firm and his expression was bland, despite command and the increasingly unpleasant sensation coming from the Dark Mark on his arm.

She blushed and giggled, though feminine discomfort crept in. “Erm, no, I… erm…” at his waiting expression. She stopped trying to swallow her tongue and took a deep breath. “Penis. Your penis,” she said as calmly as possible. She cleared her throat then asked, “What does the earring do, besides sparkle?”

“It has two main functions,” he said, allowing the distraction. He fished the box from his desk but didn’t try to cover his bare chest as he approached her. “It shows your status as my concubine – my property,” he paused, as though waiting for an objection though she kept her face carefully blank. When there was none, he continued, “and as a training tool.”

She swallowed, “How?”

He beckoned her closer with a single crooked finger.

Her curiosity overruled her nervousness and pique at the summons. Tweaking his shirt over her legs, she rose. Her balance was still slightly off, though her breasts were only voluptuously lush rather than cartoonish. She stretched her back, trying to ease her abused muscles and muttered, “Stupid things.”

He waited but cleared his throat in an unsubtle reminder.

“Sorry,” she said and walked closer. Trying to be casual, she gestured to the breasts and asked, “So you really like these things? What was really wrong with the way they were?”

His eyes drifted down over her breasts. They filled out his shirt so well that his trousers tightened. “Nothing was wrong with them – and there was a great deal right. I simply prefer a certain look.”

Her chin rose in a challenge. “What look?”

With the speed of a striking panther, he spun her around and tugged her into his arms so that her back was against his chest. She gave a small shriek of surprise but fitted her bottom to his body.

He purred into her ear and said, “I like a woman to be petite.”

She interrupted, “You mean short, don’t you?”

He hummed his agreement and she rubbed her back over his chest, enjoying being in his arms. One of his hands slid into her pixyish cut hair.

“I like to have enough hair to hold on to – or use as a leash, if I want.”

She tried to look up at him, but was bound by his grasp. Breathing deeply, she said as casually as she could, though she was growing more aroused every moment, “I’m surprised that you didn’t have me grow my hair for you, too.”

She felt the puff of air on her skin that was his silent chuckle.

“I would have, but you just did that advertisement and I still want people to recognize you.”

Shifting her weight when he tugged her hair, she leaned back even more and tilted her head to the side. He pressed biting little kisses down her neck and shoulder. Both hands cupped her full breasts through his shirt.

He murmured, “I like this weight and how they fill my hands and how they bounce and sway when you move. I can’t wait show you how to please me with them.”He rolled her nipples between his fingers – the shirt only heightened the sensation.

Breathless, she wiggled her hips again and felt how wet she still was. She pushed her breasts into his hands, suddenly secretly glad for them. She asked, “How?”

“Since I can’t fuck this,” he reached down between her legs, sliding one finger easily between her parted thighs to toy with her clit. He murmured his approval at the evidence of her desire, exciting her even more. She was so glad that the reactions of her body pleased him. Bringing her, once again, close to the precipice with his fingers, he growled in her ear, “I’m going to fuck these gorgeous tits of yours and teach you to take my cock into your mouth so deep you can’t swallow anything but me.”

On the verge of shattering, she demanded, “Show me.”

He swatted her flank and corrected her. “Please.”

Eyes wide and breathless with shock and desire, she amended, “Please show me.”

He smiled into her hair and soothed her with his words. “Soon, little kitten. Until then,” he popped each button of the shirt free of its moorings and tugged the shirt off. When she rubbed her naked back over his chest like a cat, he said, “This is the last time that you wear clothing when we’re together privately. Understand?” He tapped her clit in a hypnotic, maddening rhythm until she moaned her agreement.

“I need….” She cried out.

“Ask for what you want,” he commanded.

“Please… I need to touch you.”

“Please what?” he asked and pinched her labia painfully.

She groaned her excitement and pain before begging, “Please, Severus! Please let me touch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised and swung her around to sit on his desk. He moved between her thighs without moving his hand away.

Kiaya scrabbled to open the button securing his trousers. Her growl of frustration made him chuckle. Knowing how close she was – how close they both were, and how much his Dark Mark was starting to burn, he opened his trousers and guided her hand to his cock.

Her tiny fingers tentatively closed around his throbbing flesh. His fingers closed over hers showing her how tight to grip him and showing her just how to stroke.

As soon as her rhythm was as smooth as possible and her grip was just perfect, he bent his lips to her breast and bit down softly. The mark on his arm burned even more. He flicked his tongue over her nipple and worked his wrist insistently. He thrust against her hand, feeling his balls tighten. It was about fucking time that she stroked him off – and he was ready.

She tilted her hips to him and arched her breasts to his mouth, crying for more. He allowed himself a moment of brutality with her body. His teeth sank into her breast and his nails raked over her tiny clit.

The heightened sensation drove her over the edge and she rained over his hand. Her cries of pleasure echoed in the stone room. Her drawn nerves thrummed close to breaking. The moment he bit her breasts again, she shattered in a shuddering flood. She gripped him tight enough to make him groan and the flood from her was enough to soak his cock and open trousers. It was his undoing. His cream spurted over her hand and her pulsing cunt, still spread wide for him. He ground himself against her, sending her into another wave of sensation. She clung to him as he collapsed on her shoulder, driving her back onto the desk. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she shivered and held him close as their breathing slowed to normal.

Totally bemused and thrilled by his orgasm, her mind spun over the last hour, picking up on words and expressions on his face – and trying to avoid falling in love with the man. She said the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t ‘I love you’. “How does the earring aid training?”

His arm on the verge of fire, he gritted his teeth and pulled away from her. Tugging his shirt from under his feet, he said, “The spikes will be activated by my blood before they pierce your ear and close permanently – or until I release you.” He quickly slid the shirt on and spelled the buttons closed as he tugged his trousers on. “If you displease me, disobey or do something that you know that I won’t approve of, it’ll burn like hell – and you will be forced by the pain to stop.” He threw his coat on as she stared, dumbfounded.

“Wait… it’ll hurt me?” she came out of her post-coital haze, blinking at his clothing. “What’re you doing?”

“I have to go,” he said, “you’ll get used to it soon enough. Go do something productive.”

She stared at him, sure she hadn’t heard correctly. Mortified by her wanton behavior and outraged by his desertion, she flinched. Naked, soaked with sweat and her own juices and his… the product of his orgasm – she growled at herself – his semen, she was still draped over his desk. Ashamed, she tried to cover herself with her hands and arms as she sat up. The newly enlarged breasts weren’t hidden as well as she’d hoped and they got in the way when she tried to hide her sex.

Stricken, she felt as though he’d shoved a knife into her gut. He’d used and then discarded her like… like… a thing – a toy he’d finished playing with and tossed in the corner. She thought that they’d shared something amazing and beautiful. He’d never before let go of his control and given her his orgasm. At least, she thought he had. She thought it was supposed to be magical and romantic and soul-sharing – but it meant nothing at all to him. Disappointment, hurt and humiliation filled her. Tears welled but she blinked them away as best as she could.

“Why did you… do that?” she asked, her voice sounding very small to her own ears. She didn’t really want to know – mostly, she just wanted to escape, but had no desire to appear like she was running away from him.

“Because I wanted to. Now, I don’t have time for a eulogy on it. Are you going to start blubbering?” he demanded in a tone that could slice steel as he retrieved a long black cloak from his desk.

“Blu… no,” she whispered, taking long, deliberate breaths. Feeling and sounding stronger she tried to challenge his actions as … well… ungentlemanly, at the very least. She asked, “What did you want?”

Deliberately misunderstanding her, he asked, “What, besides world peace?”

“Never mind,” she snarled and rolled her eyes. She dashed a tear that had slipped off of her cheek. She hefted herself off of the desk and tried to brush by him to fetch the ridiculous costume she’d worn into the room but his arm rose, capturing her in the office.

“I want you to change your tone when you address me. I want a Christmas mince pie that isn’t soggy, a boomslang skin that doesn’t stink. I’d like PMP that doesn’t make my hair look like I’ve smeared petroleum jelly in it, first years who don’t melt cauldrons, a really good cup of coffee and I’d like to tie you to my bed and fuck you until you don’t even remember the word virgin, much less how it applies to you.”

She gaped at him, still naked and with clothing held limply in one hand.

“On the other hand, since it’s unlikely that I’m going to get any of those things anytime soon, I’ll settle for Harry Potter’s head mounted on a pike.” His armed burned more. “Excuse me, I have to go kiss the feet of the most foul being in the universe and pretend I like it,” he said and swept through a passageway behind a tapestry that she’d never noticed before.


*~*~*~*~*~*

Only the crackling embers in the hearth and their heavy breathing broke the silence. Flicking over his lips then into his mouth, her tongue explored and tasted this dark promises and murmurs of affection. His scent intoxicated her and she could only sigh and hum her pleasure. With a soft chuckle and whispered words of love, he nuzzled her nose, brushed his lips over her smiling mouth, and kissed his way down her neck.

It took hours but neither knew nor cared as he stroked every inch of her satin-like skin. In the firelight, her skin glowed as he traced his tongue over every muscle and bone. As he kissed every curve and valley, he worshipped her perfection with whispered words of love and promises of more.

Neither one knew or cared where his body stopped nor where hers began; their minds were connected so closely that he felt what she did and she knew his every thought. She curled and draped over him, seeking and finding his warmth and touch, delighting in the texture of his pale flesh as his hands and legs and arms and feet stroked her.

Groans and sighs of pleasure and enjoyment echoed in the shadowed room. She welcomed his gentle thrust into her hot core, stretching her tight body to fit his manhood. His strokes were an exquisite torture as he teased her with shallow movements. Tight and wet and hot, she pulsed around him, seducing him to slide deeper – to stay deep inside. Long, pale fingers found the folds of her hood. His gentle pressure and firm strokes sent her into a writhing frenzy.

The rich browns, hypnotic greens and flashing golds of her skin gleamed in the firelight as her muscles bunched and stretched to make even more contact with his pale body. Her hood flared and contracted rhythmically, revealing his fingers cradling her head. His thrust became wild as his crimson eyes drank in her ecstasy, exciting him to the edge of reason. She squeezed her lithe muscles around his manhood.

He cried his pleasure as he poured into her, “Manaassa, hysssaaaa!”

She whispered to him of love and the heartbeats of gazelles and warm rocks under the sultry sun. Her words were soft poetry in dreams ad breathy hisses accented by the flavors of her home. Her pulses gentled and turned soothing as she cradled his body in her coils. She continued her litany of love and wishes as he drifted to sleep.

His shared dreams were only of human power and glory rather than the sweet warmth of his adoration and promises of long ago.

Disappointment found her curled around him in the long, cold night. His weight, once welcome, now pressed her body into the hard, cold floor that she hated. These slick floors covered in itchy wool made it hard for her to move with the ease and stealth befitting a daughter of Manasha. It was hard to find purchase on the floors and her beloved could no longer carry her in his pocket or tucked around his neck as he once had.

Her ancient memories told her that the skinny long-tailed squeakers tasted cold and vaguely sour, not like the warm fat squeakers or even the flyers or hoppers would. These meals rested cold in her gullet and their bones were brittle. Her ancient memories told her that they should be warm and filling and a meal should allow her to sleep in her sun-warmed den for hours, rather than having to seek more food, just to keep warm.

The chill was ever present. The roaring fires in each room did little to ward off the bone-deep cold that made her lethargic and dulled her reflexes. Only wrapping her coils around her beloved as he dozed in front of the fire gave her respite. Too often, though, she could not touch him.

The part of him that was inside her liked being close to the rest of his physical body. The slice of him lodged in her being felt incomplete without being able to touch his flesh – though sometimes even then, it yearned to be returned to his body. When he stroked her, inside and out, the piece of his soul inside hers rejoiced at being so close to the home of the rest of his soul.

When that slice felt joy, so did she. She could wrap her coils around his flesh, soak in his heat, lavish in the strokes of his flesh on hers. It was that which shared her dreams and memories of that hot sun and soft grass and the sweet promise of easy food.

It felt like a hundred suns and a hundred snows had passed since last she dozed on a smooth stone overlooking the playful meerkats and scorpions. It was the promises of home on her beloved’s tongue that bound her to him just as much as the sliver of him inside her. If the price for that sun warmed rock was the speedy death brought by her poison and the lackluster meals that his enemies provided, then kill she would – if for only to feel the sun again.