Page 19 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. He lapped at me through the aftershocks, drawing out my orgasm until I was trembling and incoherent, begging him for mercy and more in the same breath.

When he finally lifted his head, his chin glistening with my arousal, the sight was so erotic I felt another pulse of desire despite my recent release.

“Not enough,” he declared, eyes dark with hunger. “I need more of you.”

In one fluid motion, he shed his minimal clothing and rolled onto his back, bringing me with him so I straddled his hips. His cock stood proud between us, thick and imposing, those same ridges that made his tongue so devastating running along the underside.

“Ride me,” he commanded, positioning me over him. “Take me inside you.”

I sank down slowly, gasping as he stretched me, filled me completely. The soreness from last night added a delicious edge to the pleasure, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d claimed me.

“So tight,” he groaned, his hands guiding my hips as I began to move. “So perfect around my cock.”

I established a rhythm, rising and falling on his length while his hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples, tracing the place where we were joined. His tail curled around to tease my clit as I rode him, adding pressure that made my movements stutter.

“The fruit,” he said suddenly, reaching for the clusters I’d dropped nearby when he’d first pounced. “Eat while you take me.”

It should have seemed strange, but something about the request made perfect sense in that moment. I took a piece from his hand and bit into it, juice trickling down my chin as I continued to rock on his cock.

His eyes blazed as he watched me, something possessive and primal in his gaze. “Yes,” he growled. “Feed while I fill you. Take everything I give you.”

He pressed another piece to my lips, and I took it, the sweet-tart flavor exploding on my tongue as he thrust up to meet my downward motion. The dual sensation—being filled physically while eating from his hand—created an intimacy I hadn’t expected.

“Look how wet you are,” he murmured, his fingers tracing where my body stretched around his cock. “So slick. Bathing me in your desire.”

I should have been embarrassed at the explicit observation, at the obscene sounds our joining made in the quiet jungle morning. Instead, I felt powerful, desired, worshipped.

“You make me this way,” I gasped, taking another piece of fruit from his fingers. “Only you.”

He growled his approval, his movements becoming more urgent. His tail tightened around my thigh as his thrusts grew more forceful, driving deeper into me.

“Come for me again,” he demanded, his thumb finding my clit. “I want to feel you squeeze my cock while you’re full of fruit and me.”

The combination of sensations—his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me, his thumb circling my clit, the sweet juice on my tongue—pushed me over the edge. I came with a broken cry, clenching around him as pleasure exploded through me for the second time.

He followed immediately, his release triggered by the pulsing of my inner walls. I felt him swell even larger inside me, felt the hot splash of his seed as he growled my name like a prayer.

I collapsed on his chest, utterly spent, juice still sticky on my chin and his release leaking from where we remained joined. His arms came around me, holding me close, his heart thundering beneath my ear.

“Breakfast of champions,” I mumbled against his skin, earning a rumbling laugh that I felt more than heard.

For a man who rarely showed emotion, that laugh felt like a victory bigger than any orgasm.

He left again shortly after, off to do his patrols or track the mystery fugitive or wrestle a tree, who knew.

The air around me still smelled like sex and fruit, a combination that should have been bizarre but somehow fit perfectly with the lush, primal nature of this place.

I watched his powerful form disappear into the foliage, that mesmerizing tail making one last flick before he vanished completely.

I stretched languidly, feeling pleasantly used and thoroughly satisfied. My stomach was full of fruit, my body humming with the afterglow of those intense orgasms, and my mind... well, my mind was buzzing with questions.

Because as nice as amazing alien sex was—and it was spectacular, five-star, would-definitely-recommend amazing—I wasn’t just some love-struck traveler stumbling into her happy ending. I was a podcaster, dammit. And cryptids were kind of my thing.

This entire planet was the mother of all cryptids. A sentient ecosystem? Vines that responded to thought? A jungle that played matchmaker between species? This was the story of a lifetime, and I was lying in it, quite literally.

I pulled my clothes back on and ran a hand through my tangled hair. “Phil?” I called softly, and immediately the familiar vine slithered over from where it had been politely hanging during our morning activities. “Want to show me around while the big guy’s gone?”

Phil curled around my wrist in what I’d come to recognize as agreement. He gave a gentle tug, leading me toward a part of the jungle I hadn’t explored yet—away from the pond, away from the path Lor usually took for his patrols.

“You’re not getting me in trouble, are you?” I asked, only half-joking. “Because I’m pretty sure Lor would tear down the forest if anything happened to me.”

Phil squeezed reassuringly. The jungle had secrets, but it didn’t seem to want to harm me. If anything, it felt...eager. Like it had been waiting for someone to ask the right questions.

So I asked them.

“How old are you?” I directed my question to the jungle at large as Phil guided me along a winding path where the moss glowed in subtle patterns beneath my feet. “Not you specifically, Phil. I mean the jungle consciousness. When did you first become aware?”

The answer didn’t come in words. Instead, images flashed behind my eyes—rapid, dream-like impressions of the jungle in different states.

Younger. Smaller. Then growing, spreading, connecting.

The sensation of many becoming one, of separate awareness coalescing into a singular entity.

It was dizzying, overwhelming, but undeniably an answer.

“Wow,” I breathed, steadying myself against a tree trunk. “That’s...intense. Can all plants talk to each other like this where you come from?”

More impressions—negative this time. A feeling of uniqueness, of exceptionalism. This jungle was special, different from others.

“And Lor? How did he find you? Why do you trust him?”

The response was immediate and powerful—an impression of protection, of symbiosis. Lor had defended the jungle from something. Had proven himself an ally, not an exploiter. The feeling was tinged with something like affection, or perhaps respect.

Phil tugged me deeper, the path widening into a small clearing I hadn’t seen before. At its center stood what looked like a tree, but unlike any I’d seen so far. Its trunk was nearly transparent, revealing a complex network of glowing veins within—like the jungle’s circulatory system made visible.

“What is this place?” I whispered, approaching carefully.

The impressions that flooded my mind were harder to interpret—something about communication, connection, memory. The tree pulsed gently as I drew near, its rhythm matching my heartbeat.

Tentatively, I reached out and placed my palm against the translucent bark. The connection was immediate and overwhelming—not just impressions now, but knowledge. Information cascading into my mind faster than I could process it.

The jungle was old. Anciently old. And it had been invaded before—by things mechanical, by things biological, by things that sought to harness its power or destroy its consciousness.

Lor’s people, the Legion, had protected it at one point, establishing outposts, creating gates for quick response.

But then something had changed. The Legion had withdrawn. Only a skeleton crew on rotation.

And now there was a new threat. The fugitive Lor hunted wasn’t just a criminal—he represented something darker, something the jungle itself feared.

I pulled my hand away, gasping from the intensity of the download. “Holy shit,” I muttered, trying to make sense of the fragments I’d glimpsed.

Phil curled supportively around my shoulders, offering comfort. The other vines in the clearing swayed gently, as if waiting for my reaction.

“You’re showing me this for a reason,” I said slowly. “You want me to understand what’s happening here.”

Agreement pulsed through my connection with Phil.

“You think I can help somehow. Not just by being Lor’s...whatever I am to him. But by being me. Miri de Leon, cryptid investigator extraordinaire.”

The jungle didn’t exactly laugh, but I felt something like amusement ripple through the vines.

I turned in a slow circle, taking in the clearing with new eyes. “Okay,” I said decisively. “I’m in. Show me everything. If there’s a threat to you—to this world—I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

Because whatever fate had in store for me, I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just about finding a mate in a hot alien warrior. The jungle had called to me for a reason. The portal had opened for me for a reason.

Phil tugged me toward another path, this one glowing more intensely underfoot. I followed without hesitation, mind already racing with theories and questions.

I might be Lor’s kassari according to some cosmic dating app, but I was also a journalist with a nose for stories. And this one was just beginning to unfold.

The vines parted before me like a curtain, revealing yet another wonder I’d never seen before. I stepped forward eagerly, notebook already forming in my mind.

Because this—this strange, beautiful, dangerous jungle with its secrets and its sentience—this was the story I was born to tell.

And I was going to learn everything.