Page 18 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)
I woke alone, but not afraid. Somehow, I knew Lor was near—like a low hum under my skin, a steady reassurance that buzzed just beneath my heartbeat. The jungle seemed quieter in his absence, but not in a dangerous way. More like it was holding its breath, watching.
I stretched, immediately aware of the delicious ache between my thighs. A groan slipped out before I could stop it. “Oh, stars,” I muttered, flopping back onto the mossy nest.
Whatever those unity dreams had done to me before—hot, intense, wild—they were nothing compared to the real thing.
Lor had wrecked me in the best possible way.
Sore didn’t even begin to cover it. I was blessedly sore.
That man had moved through my body like he’d been designed to live there, and frankly, I hoped he planned on renewing the lease.
I sat up slowly, wincing a little. “Worth it,” I mumbled, stretching my arms above my head. The moss rustled under me, soft as silk and smelling faintly of citrus. The jungle cocooned me in comfort. Warmth. Safety.
Phil, my clingy vine friend, had respectfully given me space during the night but now inched closer, his leafy tip extending toward me in what I was learning to interpret as a morning greeting.
“Morning to you too, buddy,” I said, patting him absently. “Don’t suppose you know where my sexy cat-man went?”
Phil curled around my wrist, giving a gentle squeeze that somehow conveyed both reassurance and direction. He pointed toward the eastern treeline, where the morning light filtered through in slanted gold beams.
“Patrol?” I guessed.
Another squeeze. Yes.
I was having conversations with plants now.
If I ever made it back to Earth, this would make one hell of a podcast episode.
“This week on Cryptid Chronicles: I fell through a military portal and made friends with sentient vegetation. Also, had mind-blowing sex with a alien warrior. Stay tuned for the graphic details!”
My stomach growled, reminding me that amazing alien sex, while spiritually fulfilling, wasn’t nutritionally complete. I needed food. And water. And probably to wash off the evidence of last night’s activities before Lor returned and decided round two was in order.
Not that I’d complain, mind you. But a girl needed sustenance.
I headed toward the pond, stepping barefoot across the familiar jungle path that Lor had subtly cleared for me. My body hummed from last night’s memory, but I needed water. And soap. And maybe clean underwear if the jungle had those tucked under a vine somewhere.
The pond shimmered ahead, sunlight filtering through the dense canopy. As I approached, a thick vine lazily unfurled overhead, arching wide to form a curtain of shade.
I blinked at it.
“Thanks, Phil,” I muttered, only half-joking.
The vine wiggled in response.
Okay. That wasn’t creepy at all.
Apparently, the jungle liked me. More than liked me.
It responded to me now—almost like it could read my thoughts.
When I imagined fruit, a low vine dropped a cluster of glowing golden berries down into my hand.
When I thought about privacy, a curtain of leaves swayed into place, shielding me from sight.
I didn’t ask the jungle to do these things, not out loud.
It just...listened.
I slipped into the water, sighing as the warm liquid enveloped my aching muscles. The jungle had outdone itself this morning—the pool was the perfect temperature, and those little soap-bubble things floated on the surface in greater numbers than before.
“So,” I said conversationally to the surrounding foliage as I popped one of the bubbles and worked the resulting cream through my hair, “is this special treatment because I’m sleeping with the boss, or do you just like me?”
The nearby vines swayed in what seemed like amusement. A small shower of pink petals drifted down, landing on the water’s surface around me.
“I’ll take that as ‘both,’” I decided, ducking under to rinse my hair.
When I surfaced, I found a large, flat leaf waiting at the pool’s edge, laden with those purple-blue fruits Lor had introduced me to earlier. My stomach growled again, more insistently.
“Okay, now you’re just showing off,” I told the jungle, but I wasn’t about to refuse breakfast in bed. Well, breakfast in pond.
I munched on the sweet-tart fruits as I finished bathing, feeling strangely at home despite the utter alienness of my surroundings.
The water sluiced away the sweat and stickiness from last night, though nothing could wash away the memory of Lor’s hands on my skin, his mouth between my thighs, the way he’d filled me so completely I thought I might shatter.
I dunked myself in the water, scrubbing clean until I felt human again. I even managed to rinse out my crunchy Earth clothes and pull them back on, though they were a little stiff. Still—progress.
By the time I returned to the shelter, Lor had reappeared from the trees, all golden eyes and quiet power. He watched me with that unreadable expression that somehow said everything.
“You look pleased,” he said, voice low and warm.
“I feel like a Disney princess, if Disney princesses were really into jungle-themed cryptid sex dreams and sentient vines.” I paused. “The jungle gave me fruit.”
He arched a brow. “Queen of the wild.”
I grinned. “You mean Jungle Royalty.”
“Queen of my territory,” he replied, deadpan.
I blinked at him.
Then I caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Oh, he was half-joking. Maybe less than half. His eyes tracked over me, lingering on the damp spots where my clothes clung to still-wet skin. The hunger in his gaze was unmistakable, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs.
I could ask him where he’d been, but that would involve him evading my questions or growling something cryptic about “securing the perimeter.” And honestly, I was hungry for more than just answers.
“Want to eat something?” I asked, holding up the remaining fruits I’d brought back from the pond.
His eyes darkened, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of gold remained. The tip of his tail flicked once, twice—a tell I was learning to read as interest. Intense interest.
“Yes,” he rumbled, but the way his gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, made it abundantly clear he wasn’t talking about fruit. “I would enjoy eating very much.”
Well then. Breakfast was apparently going to be interesting.
Lor didn’t even try to pretend he’d meant actual food.
Before I could make another smart remark, he was on me, golden eyes blazing with hunger that had nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with devouring me whole.
His mouth claimed mine in a kiss that stole my breath and liquefied my spine, his powerful hands gripping my hips to pull me flush against him.
“I’ve been thinking about tasting you again since I left,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough with need. “Your flavor haunts me.”
Well, how was a girl supposed to respond to that except by melting into a puddle of arousal? I pressed closer, feeling the hard length of him already straining against the confines of whatever material made up his minimal clothing.
“You had me for hours last night,” I murmured, even as my traitorous body arched against his. “Aren’t you tired of the menu yet?”
His answering growl vibrated through my entire body. “I could feast on you for centuries and never grow tired of your taste.”
With one fluid motion, he lifted me and carried me to our moss bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness before prowling over me. His eyes never left mine as he slowly peeled away my freshly washed clothes, exposing my skin to the humid jungle air.
“Already wet for me,” he observed, nostrils flaring as he scented my arousal. “So responsive.”
I should have been embarrassed at how quickly he could bring me to this state, but embarrassment seemed ridiculous when faced with such primal desire. Instead, I spread my thighs wider in invitation.
“You promised me eating,” I reminded him, my voice huskier than intended. “I’m still waiting.”
His lips curved in that rare, devastating smile. “Impatient kassari,” he murmured, but he was already moving down my body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach.
When he finally settled between my thighs, I held my breath in anticipation. The first broad stroke of his tongue against my core sent electricity shooting up my spine. I gasped, hips bucking instinctively, but his strong hands held me firmly in place.
“Fuck,” I whimpered as he continued his leisurely exploration, that textured tongue mapping every fold, every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
“I love how you taste here,” he growled against me, the vibration adding another layer to the sensation. “So sweet. So perfect.”
His tongue—god, that incredible, otherworldly tongue—had ridges that caught against my flesh in the most mind-blowing way. When he focused on my clit, circling it with deliberate pressure, I nearly came off the moss bed entirely.
“Lor!” I cried out, fingers threading through his dark mane, not sure if I was trying to pull him closer or push him away from the overwhelming sensation.
He responded by doubling his efforts, alternating between long, slow strokes and focused attention on the bundle of nerves that was rapidly driving me toward the edge.
His tail, seemingly with a mind of its own, wrapped around my ankle and slid higher, adding another point of contact that made me gasp.
“I can feel how close you are,” he murmured against my flesh. “Give it to me. Let me taste your pleasure.”
As if I had any choice in the matter. His tongue slipped inside me, those magical ridges dragging against my inner walls in a way no human tongue could ever accomplish.
Combined with the pressure of his thumb against my clit, it was too much.
I shattered with a keening cry, my entire body convulsing as pleasure crashed through me in waves.