Page 14 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)

She tasted like wildfire and starlight against my tongue, her flavor more intoxicating than anything I’d experienced in countless cycles of hunting across the stars.

The bold press of her lips against mine had broken something loose inside me—some final thread of restraint I’d been clinging to since she’d stepped through the rift gate and into my world.

My kassari. My fate. Here, real, and trembling in my arms as I deepened our kiss.

I cupped her face, my claws carefully retracted as I traced the delicate line of her jaw. Miri pressed closer, her small, warm hands sliding up my chest to curl into the short fur at my nape. The sensation sent electricity racing down my spine, my tail lashing behind me in barely contained desire.

“Lor,” she whispered against my mouth, my name transformed on her lips into something sacred.

I growled in response, unable to form words when all I wanted was to taste more of her.

I dragged my mouth from hers, trailing kisses down the column of her throat, savoring the salt-sweet flavor of her skin.

The Unity dreams had been a pale shadow of this reality—of her scent filling my lungs, her pulse racing beneath my lips, her body arching into mine with each touch.

The leaf-wrap she’d fashioned rustled beneath my hands as I traced her curves, silently asking permission. She answered by guiding my fingers to the simple knot at her shoulder. I tugged gently, and the garment fell away, revealing her to me in the soft glow of bioluminescent light.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, drinking in the sight of her. The curves and valleys of her body were more perfect than anything I’d conjured in our shared dreams—real, warm, alive with goosebumps rising where my breath touched her skin.

The vines around us shifted, creating a nest of soft moss and flowers, a sanctuary for what was to come.

Phil had discreetly retreated to the perimeter but remained close, a watchful guardian to our private moment.

The jungle itself seemed to pulse with approval, the light from the fungi dimming to create an intimate cocoon around us.

I lowered her to the moss bed, my larger frame hovering over hers with careful restraint. My people were not made for gentleness—we were hunters, warriors, bred for strength and speed—but for her, I would learn tenderness. For her, I would leash the primal hunger that threatened to overwhelm me.

“I want to taste you,” I whispered against her collarbone, tracing the delicate ridge with my tongue. “Every part of you.”

She shivered beneath me, her dark eyes wide and trusting. “Yes.”

That single word unleashed me. I mapped the topography of her body with mouth and hands—the elegant sweep of her shoulders, the soft underside of her arms, the sensitive spot at the bend of her elbow that made her gasp when I lingered there.

Each new discovery was a treasure, each sound she made a reward.

When I reached her breasts, I paused to savor the moment.

In our dreams, I’d tasted her here, but the reality was infinitely sweeter.

I traced the curve of one breast with my nose, inhaling deeply, before flicking my tongue across the hardened peak.

Miri arched up with a startled moan, her fingers threading through my mane to hold me closer.

“You taste better than dreams,” I rumbled against her skin, taking the nipple gently between my teeth. “Better than anything.”

Her response was incoherent, a breathy sound that drove my desire higher. I lavished attention on both breasts, alternating between gentle suction and the rougher texture of my tongue, learning exactly what pressure made her squirm, what rhythm made her breath catch.

My tail, acting with a will of its own, curled around her ankle, then slid up her calf in a caress that made her shiver.

I smiled against her skin, moving lower, tracing the curve of her ribs, the dip of her navel, the soft plane of her stomach.

Each inch of her was a new flavor, a new texture to memorize.

The scent of her arousal grew stronger as I neared her core, making my head swim with primal need. I glanced up the length of her body, finding her watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted and swollen from our kisses.

“Still yes?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

She nodded, then added a breathless, “Very yes.”

I settled between her thighs, gently parting them wider with my hands.

The sight of her glistening core nearly undid me.

In our Unity dreams, I’d tasted her here, but those experiences were shadows compared to the heady reality of her scent, her heat, the pulse of life so evident in this most intimate part of her.

I leaned in, dragging my tongue along her center in one long, slow stroke.

The flavor burst across my senses—complex, musky-sweet, uniquely Miri—and I groaned against her flesh, the vibration making her gasp and arch.

This was what I’d been created for, what fate had designed me to crave.

Her taste was perfect, addictive, a drug I would never get enough of.

My tongue explored her folds with deliberate precision, learning what made her thighs tremble, what made her hands fist in the moss beneath us. When I found the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex, I circled it slowly, gauging her reaction.

“Lor!” Her voice broke on my name, her hips lifting to press against my mouth.

I smiled, then focused my attention there, alternating between gentle suction and the textured strokes of my tongue.

Her pleasure built quickly, her breathing growing ragged, her scent intensifying.

I slid one hand beneath her, lifting her slightly to improve the angle, while my other hand gripped her thigh to keep her steady as she began to writhe.

When she came, it was with a sharp cry that echoed through our secluded space.

I held her through it, gentling my touches but not stopping, prolonging the waves of pleasure that I could feel rippling through her body.

The vines around us seemed to tremble in sympathy, the bioluminescent light pulsing in time with her racing heart.

As she began to descend from that peak, I changed tactics, sliding my tongue lower to circle her entrance. Her flavor was stronger here, more intoxicating. I dipped inside, tasting her deeper, and she gasped, her body tensing anew.

“Again,” I murmured against her, not a question but a statement of intent. “I need to feel you come apart again.”

She whimpered, oversensitive but still wanting.

I was relentless, using everything I’d learned about her body to build her toward a second release.

This time I curled my tongue inside her while my thumb pressed gently against the bundle of nerves above.

The combination had her arching off the moss bed, her thighs clamping around my head as pleasure overtook her once more.

This orgasm was stronger, longer, her entire body shuddering with its force.

I could have stayed there forever, drunk on her taste, addicted to the sounds she made as she came undone for me.

In that moment, nothing existed but her—not my mission, not the dangers lurking in the jungle, not the uncertain future that awaited us.

Just Miri, my kassari, trembling beneath my touch.

I would have kept going. I wanted to. But the jungle shifted.

Not gently. Not playfully.

Urgent. Warning.

The vines tensed. Leaves curled inward. I froze, my senses sharpening instantly. My claws itched, unsheathing on instinct.

Danger.

I pressed a kiss to Miri’s temple and murmured, “Stay here.”

She blinked up at me, dazed. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, the bond between us still pulsing hot and undeniable.

“I’ll be back. Phil will stay with you.”

Her eyes widened as Phil wrapped gently around her wrist in promise.

I moved through the underbrush like a shadow, each step precise and silent.

The jungle parted before me, vines coiling back to clear my path, leaves tilting to avoid brushing against me and creating sound.

I had become one with this ecosystem over my long months stationed here—the jungle recognized me as both protector and predator.

Now it sensed my urgency, my focus narrowed to a single purpose: find the threat to my kassari and eliminate it.

The scent trail was faint but distinct—an acrid chemical tang that didn’t belong in this pristine environment.

Vaskari, a Cydarian mercenary with a trail of bodies across three star systems. Legion had been tracking him for cycles before he’d crashed on GL-7 with stolen bioweapons tech.

My mission had been simple: locate, apprehend, recover the tech.

The jungle had other ideas, sending me on a winding chase while it assessed whether I was threat or ally.

By the time I’d earned the ecosystem’s trust, Vaskari had disappeared into the dense interior. Only the occasional drone, like the one I’d destroyed earlier, confirmed he was still alive.

The trail led me deeper into sector seven, a region dense with carnivorous flora and treacherous terrain. Perfect for an ambush. I tested the air, filtering the jungle’s complex aromatic symphony for any hint of my quarry. There—a trace of ozone and synthetic polymer. Recent. Within the last hour.

I pressed my palm against a massive trunk, connecting to the jungle’s neural network. Images and sensations flooded my consciousness—movement to the north, a disruption in the natural flow, something mechanical interfering with the root communication system.

Not just hiding. Jamming.

I had long suspected that smugglers used these communication blackout windows—periods when atmospheric conditions prevented clear transmissions to Legion command—as cover for their operations.

Vaskari wasn’t just a fugitive; he was part of something larger.

This jungle outpost wasn’t as abandoned as Legion command believed.

The realization settled like ice in my stomach.

If true, Miri’s arrival through the supposedly deactivated rift gate was no coincidence.

Someone was using old Legion tech, perhaps maintaining the outposts secretly.

The implications were troubling, but I pushed them aside.

First, secure the immediate threat. Analysis could come later.

I set traps along likely escape routes—simple but effective snares reinforced by the jungle’s cooperation.

Carnivorous vines repositioned themselves, forming living nets that would respond to my signal.

Poisonous fungi retreated from the path where I walked but remained poised along alternative routes, ready to release spores at the slightest disturbance.

The jungle aided me willingly, its vast intelligence recognizing the danger to its equilibrium.

It wanted Miri protected too—had marked her as important from the moment she’d stepped through the rift gate.

Not just because of her connection to me, but because of something intrinsic to her that the jungle found valuable.

I didn’t fully understand it, but I was grateful for the alliance.

Still, I didn’t like leaving her. Even with Phil’s protection and the jungle’s blessing, the thought of Miri unguarded made my fur stand on end.

She was too curious, too fearless for her own safety.

The memory of her taste still lingered on my tongue, the echo of her pleasure still vibrated through my body.

I had claimed her in all ways but the final mark—the bite that would seal our bond permanently.

The urgency of that uncompleted ritual pulsed through me with each heartbeat. Mine. Protect. Return.

I pushed the instinct down, focusing on the hunt.

Professional first, primal second. I had tracked Vaskari for hours, following his trail through increasingly difficult terrain.

The jungle fed me impressions of his passage—disturbed foliage, damaged roots, the lingering chemical signature of his weapons.

But just when the trail should have grown hotter, when I should have been closing in on my prey, it vanished.

Completely. As if Vaskari had simply ceased to exist.

I circled the area, extending my senses to their limits. Nothing. No scent, no disturbance, no energy signature. Even the jungle seemed confused, its impressions becoming vaguer, less coherent.

This wasn’t possible. No one vanished without a trace. Not from a Reaper. Not in my jungle.

I pressed my palm harder against a tree trunk, demanding more information. The response was frustratingly incomplete—impressions of wrongness, of something interfering with the natural order, but no clear direction or image.

Something was blocking the jungle’s awareness. Something technological, perhaps, or biological in nature but foreign to this ecosystem. Whatever it was, it was sophisticated enough to fool both the jungle’s collective consciousness and my enhanced senses.

The implications were disturbing. Vaskari shouldn’t have had access to that level of technology. Not alone. Which meant he wasn’t working alone.

Legion intelligence had identified him as a solo operator, but the evidence suggested otherwise. Someone was helping him. Someone with resources and knowledge of GL-7’s unique properties.

The realization bothered me more than I cared to admit.

This changed the parameters of my mission, elevated the threat level considerably.

Reapers prided themselves on being infallible hunters—we found everyone, tracked everything.

It was why we were deployed to the most hostile environments, the most impossible missions.

Yet here I was, empty-handed, while my quarry had vanished into thin air.

Frustration burned through me, a sensation I wasn’t accustomed to feeling. I pushed it aside. I would solve this puzzle, but not now. Not today. The trail was cold, and something more important waited for me back at the shelter.

Miri. My kassari. The bond between us still new, still forming, still fragile.

I turned back toward the shelter, moving with greater speed now.

The jungle parted before me, sensing my urgency.

I could solve the mystery of Vaskari’s disappearance tomorrow.

For now, I needed to ensure Miri’s safety, needed to hold her in my arms and reassure the primal part of myself that she was unharmed.

I would report my findings to Legion command when communications were restored. Request reinforcements, perhaps. But that was future concern. Present concern was Miri.

When I emerged from the trees and saw her sitting beneath the perch shelter I’d built, talking softly to the vines and scratching a heart into the moss with her finger, something in my chest eased.

She was still here.

And I would do whatever it took to keep her that way.