The armored lizard’s cores were the size of cherry pits, bluish green in color.
I hadn’t read the novel myself, but Nivi would chatter on about magical cores, how they could grant beauty, youth even. There were different kinds, she had said, each from a different beast species.
The sky above confirmed it: I was in a different universe. Without hesitation, I popped all four cores into my mouth, crunching them like nuts. The taste was surprisingly pleasant, like mojito-flavored jellybeans.
The energy from the cores spread through my body, easing the pain and healing the internal bleeding. It did nothing for the broken bones, though.
Looking around for a sturdy enough stick to use as a splint, my eyes landed on a piece of driftwood. It would have to do. Snapping it in half, I tore off a strip of the already ruined shirt to wrap around my torso and the wood, securing it tightly. The pain made me wince.
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My backpack swam to the shore, and I fished it out of the water. It was a camping backpack, made of waterproof material, so my stuff was still dry. I pulled the two machetes from the sides, and secured them under the waistband of my pants.
Red noodle returned with a net full of coconut-like fruits. He threw the net on the sand before taking out one for himself and cracking it open with his bare hands. He gave the weapons on my hips a side-eye, then plopped down a few meters away from me.
I picked up one of the fruits. My fingers traced the shell’s ridges, searching for a weak spot before pressing it. The effort sent a fresh wave of pain through my ribs, which made me decide saving my strength was worth more than whatever lay inside.
He glanced at me and snorted, but made no move to help.
I threw the fruit at his head, and he caught it in midair.
"Open it for me, mate."
He looked like he was about to throw it back at my face. Kurus hated demanding, entitled females. It was part of his background story. And here I was, acting exactly like that.
Too bad. Provoking death was kind of my hobby at this point. I wasn’t seeking death itself, just instilling it in others. It was a fine line. He could try and cross it if he dared.
Playing submissive to avoid death and get on others’ good graces was for those who couldn’t afford to do otherwise.
"Be good, listen to your mate, and you’ll get a reward," I tempted.
"Just undo the mark, female," he hissed.
I used the stone to support myself and walked to him, slowly.
His hand was gripping the fruit so hard that it broke in half. "What are you doing?"
I continued walking. "Are you afraid of me?"
My hands reached to grab his chin, lifting it up, so he looked me in the eyes.
"Let go," he warned, his reptilian pupils narrowing.
"Don’t tell me you like being marked by a female?" I chuckled. "Is it that rare? To be wanted? To have someone claim you, so desperately, they sink their teeth into your flesh?"
He pulled his face away and pushed the broken coconut parts into my hands. "Drink."
I took it and returned to my spot by Nivi’s side. I parted her lips and slowly poured the sweet juice down her throat. She coughed a little, but swallowed most of it. Good.
I ate the flesh of the fruit, savoring the sweetness. My body was still felt weak, and my wounds ached, but at least I wasn’t bleeding to death anymore.
It was peaceful for a few minutes, just the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, and the distant calls of the beasts in the jungle.
My eyelids began to feel heavy as I leaned back against the rock. They were begging me for rest. Yet, the foreign place kept me on edge, especially the occasional flick of Kurus’ forked tongue. His eyes were on me, watching my every move.
I returned the favor, boring holes into his perfect, yet deadly face. His aura was menacing, but it wasn’t downright terrifying, either. It was more like he could kill you and still manage to look handsome doing it.
Kurus had kidnapped the heroine in the story. He would force himself on her during her coma, but wouldn’t kill her after the deed was done, due to her unresponsiveness.
Captivated by the female’s docility, he would begin to trust her and set aside the tradition of snakes killing their mates. It had given her a chance to escape during his hunting time. He would eventually die after his second kidnapping attempt, when her love interest became strong enough to protect her.
He must have felt my murderous stare, because he looked away first, pretending to be interested in his own tail. "What are you looking at?"
"You."
He flicked his tail and hissed, "Don’t look at me like that."
"Like what?" I taunted, "Like you’re about to become my dinner? Smoked snakes are one of my favorite snacks. You’re going to taste good, I just know it."
I licked my lips, making his pupils dilate. He probably sensed that I wasn’t completely lying.