Page 33 of Voidwalker (Beasts of the Void #1)

“Involuntary reactions don’t count.” She clicked her tongue, a sound to mask the quiver. “Just because my dumb lizard brain says you could eat me, doesn’t mean I believe you’d do it.”

“Prove it.”

Another surprise. Fi hesitated. “Prove what?”

“You claim you aren’t afraid of me? Prove it.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

The truth was, Fi didn’t know how far she could push this beast. She could study every flick of his tail, could read into that crack in his guard when he’d reached for her face the night before, but she didn’t know if he really was a house cat who’d flop when his bluff got called.

Just as likely, she could be near an inflection point, a jab too far that would bring those fangs down upon her. A perilous line to dance around.

No point in dancing, then.

“Bite me,” Fi said.

That round went to her. Antal pulled back, weighing her with a slow blink.

“Excuse me?” He drew the syllables out.

“I’m not afraid of you.” If her heart was thunder before, it deafened now. “You talk tough, but you haven’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me. Prove me wrong. Bite me , asshole.”

“Bite you. That’s what you want?”

Antal pressed closer, narrowing the space between them to a foot. An inch . Nowhere to hide from those piercing red-and-Void eyes, that flash of fangs as he spoke. If this was how daeyari always argued, a duel of proximity, Fi couldn’t back down.

She didn’t want to back down.

Even as her breaths shallowed, there was a thrill to the standoff, a creep of heat beneath her skin as she pressed this line with him.

This ageless, predatory creature made not of shadow and nightmare as she’d always feared, but flesh and bone, balking at her punches.

Each step toward the edge brought her closer to tumbling over.

Each nudge, and she wanted to push a little more, to peer unflinching into the Void of his eyes and scream that she wasn’t afraid anymore .

“Am I not speaking clearly?” Fi met his raise and leaned closer, their faces nearly touching. “Bite. Me. Or are you nothing more than bristle?”

His tail cut a wide, swift arc.

She must be close to the line. A fraction more. She’d call one more bluff, then—

Antal lunged faster than Fi could gasp.

He shoved her by the hips. One firm motion, all momentum halting together at once—Fi’s back striking the wall, the air fleeing her lungs.

Antal’s teeth, on her throat.

At the stab of fangs, Fi’s composure cracked.

No time for incredulity, just that disorienting surge of prey instinct screaming at her to run, fight, live .

She flailed like a snared rabbit, clawing against the daeyari’s head, nails scraping the slick root of an antler.

Her other hand raked his arm. Cold. Unyielding.

Void, he was strong, a snare of lean muscle and claws pinning her waist.

But… no pain.

They fell still together.

Fi, tangled in limbs and drowning in ozone, risked an inhale. Another.

She didn’t understand. Antal’s mouth was hot on her throat, Void-honed fangs clamping vulnerable skin. But nothing more. No carved flesh, no digging deep for arteries.

Just firm enough to pin her in place.

A show of strength, Fi realized with mounting incredulity. A rebuttal she didn’t know how to counter. This carnivorous beast with teeth framing her jugular, lines of lethal muscle pressing her against the wall, holding her down like a misbehaving kitten.

Fi couldn’t move.

She could scarcely breathe, each shallow inhale tugging fangs against her neck.

Each taunting prick, shifting fear to insult . How dare he call her bluff. How dare he shove her against a wall, bare his teeth, then not rip her to pieces. Fi’s blood boiled, indignant by how this creature surprised her at every turn.

And how much she liked it.

Fi went still as permafrost. Of course she didn’t like this. In her ears, blood roared. In her ribs, the pounding of a panicked heart. All perfectly normal reactions to a daeyari’s teeth on her throat.

But then, as they settled against each other…

a shiver, where Antal’s mouth pressed her pulse.

The brush of his exhale, warmer than expected.

That heat beneath her skin, fiercer now, sinking through her chest then down, down to the where claws held her waist. Insufferably chaste , these teeth, pressed against her without even a taunt of tongue. Only a cautious press of lips.

Fi’s breaths turned shallower, adrift against a starless sky, snared by velvet claws and feather-soft fangs.

Why did she like this?

She couldn’t like this.

The middle of an argument with a carnivore: not the ideal time for discovering kinks.

Fi wriggled to break Antal’s grip, dizzy on ice and ozone as she fisted his shirt collar and its obnoxious buttons, fingers tangling the hair between his antlers.

Despite his lean build, this daeyari was a menace, immovable with all his steel-taut weight turned against her—and fuck, if that didn’t stoke her useless pulse faster.

Antal forfeited no ground. He bit harder , fangs dragging flesh until a soft ache bloomed.

A warning or a tease, such a narrow line to tread.

When Fi writhed, he dug his hip into hers to hold her still.

Pinned her lashing arm against the wall.

A firmer hand braced her head, stopping her from ripping her own throat open with her struggle.

The rake of claws through Fi’s hair threatened an unbecoming sound on her lips. His growl, low in warning, shuddered down her spine.

At last, she was terrified.

Terrified of how gently he held her. Terrified of the heat pooling low in her belly, absurdly inappropriate in such a compromising position. A whisper of doubt that, maybe, being devoured wouldn’t be the horrific end she’d envisioned.

She gasped when Antal’s fangs lifted off her, a dull throb in their absence.

Void have mercy, she liked it. Fi liked the press of his teeth, the hard lines of him holding her down.

And Antal? What should she make of his low, swaying tail? The way he lingered too close, breath warm on her neck, fingers knotted in her hair. He held her against the wall, still claiming the high ground. In the slow caress of his exhale, Fi heard a speechless taunt.

“ Had enough? ” his slitted eyes said. “ Admit it. Concede. ”

“You see?” she breathed. “I’m not afraid of you.”

What a gorgeous flicker of incredulity across his face. Fi could eat it for breakfast. He shifted, still not backing away, untangling his claws from her hair. His thumb traced the arc of an artery down her neck.

“Your heart is racing,” he said again.

Swifter than before. Verging on hyperventilation, in fact, the whole Plane shifting beneath her.

“Is it?” Fi said, light. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’d lie about something so petty?”

“A lie? I’m bluffing , you melodramatic wall cactus.”

Antal scowled. Whether at her tone or the name, hard to disentangle. “What difference does it make?”

“All the difference.” Why was he still so close ?

Fi scrambled for her barbs, her only defense against his taunts, against the unyielding heat of him flush against her.

“Being afraid is natural. Survival instinct. I can be afraid, but that won’t stop me bluffing out my ass when I need to get something done.

It won’t stop me looking you in the eye to call you a brooding house cat.

” She scoffed. “Honestly. It’s like you’ve never met a proper smuggler. ”

Antal considered her too long. The drift of smoldering eyes across Fi’s face sparked another shudder. The flare of his nostrils should have terrified her, a predator scenting prey. That trace of his tongue across his teeth, clearly contemplating how she’d taste if he split her open.

“I suppose I haven’t,” he said at last.

He stepped away.

Fi fought to keep her chin up, not succumbing to the relief that threatened to slump her against the wall. With distance came breathing room, but not a return to where they’d stood before. This time, neither of them had backed down, a new field to spar upon.

She ran a hand over her neck. Tender skin, but when she examined her fingers… not a drop of blood.

“You’re an unusually brazen human, Fionamara.”

Antal watched her like a panther searching for a limp. No telling, anymore, what he’d do if he spotted one. Still too close, mere feet away across her kitchen, his scent of ice and ozone sharp enough to taste.

“Some call it stubborn,” she returned.

“Stubborn is a word for it…” His words came out too rough. Too long of a pause as his tongue brushed his mouth again, tail an agitated flick. “Was there a point to this?”

A point. What in the wide black Void was her point in pushing a daeyari? Other than pride, of course. A distraction from perennial helplessness.

Fi could use a distraction now. Anything to escape the thought of teeth on her neck, how upsettingly good this monster felt against her. They had a common enemy. Nothing more. She’d be stupid to show a sliver of vulnerable flesh to a creature like this.

“The point is, I won’t run from you. And I won’t run from Verne.” Fi refused to be that flighty girl who always ran.

“You’re a fool,” he replied with insulting swiftness. “Or you don’t fear death. Unsettling. Usually, that’s a reliable trait in mortals.”

“Of course I’m afraid to die. Don’t pretend you aren’t. Afraid you’ll come back as some… rabid chinchilla, or something.” Antal opened his mouth in protest, but Fi spoke over him. “None of that matters. Verne can’t have this territory.”

“I have no allies to muster. And with Tyvo refusing aide—”

“Could we take her down?”

“… We? ”

“The two of us.”

On Fi’s kitchen table lay several empty energy capsules. Her silviamesh, shredded by daeyari claws.

And an eight-pointed black antler, severed at the stump. A trophy. A stroke of courage.

Fi grabbed the antler off the table, a reminder that daeyari weren’t as untouchable as the stories said. She’d stood her ground against Tyvo. She’d seen Antal ripped to shreds. Terrifying, powerful creatures, but they could be fought.

Antal’s eyes narrowed on the severed antler of his kin.

He paced around the table, around her , letting his long tail drift against her arm as he passed.

Fi raised her guard, tasting this alliance with hesitant sips, worried he’d spotted weakness.

Had he felt her shudder at his touch? Could he use it against her?

He seemed tense as he studied her, eyes sharp and mouth clamped into a firm line.

For the love of the Void, she had to stop staring at his mouth.

“What do you hope to gain from this?” he said slowly. Testing.

A negotiation. Fi stood firmer. “Verne’s a problem for both of us.”

“She’s a problem for me . Why would you aide me, risk your life to trade one daeyari for another?”

“I want Nyskya to be safe. Promise they’ll never have to send a sacrifice, and I’ll help you get rid of her.”

“ That’s what you want?” Antal frowned, his guarded exterior cracking beneath a creased brow. “You’re a smuggler. Yet you have no aspirations for fortune? Amnesty?”

Never. Fi didn’t turn to Void smuggling for riches or infamy, only because it was the easiest way to keep running. But this, she couldn’t outrun. She couldn’t do that to Boden again.

“Nyskya is my home. You might be able to slink back to your Old House on the Twilit Plane if this doesn’t work out, but I don’t have anywhere else.”

Antal went so stiff, he didn’t appear to be breathing.

His tail dropped near the floor. More than a glare this time, a low growl in his chest warned her of the thin ice she stood on. Fi didn’t balk. No wandering gazes to teeth.

“Sure, you’re a daeyari, like Verne,” she said. “But you let the elections run. You let your mortals govern. You’ve let Nyskya keep to ourselves. If I have to choose someone to replace that bitch, I’ll settle for you.”

Fi thought he might bite her again, in earnest this time. Antal’s breath hitched, a grating rise of his chest as he skewered her with glowing crimson irises.

But when he finally spoke, it came out too soft.

“You’re wrong on one count,” he said. “I can’t go home. But I accept your terms.”

Fi scowled. “What kind of cryptic-ass answer—”

She tensed as Antal reached past her, plucking an empty energy capsule from the table. The air cracked . Fi’s vision flashed red as a current bloomed on Antal’s fingertips, energy flooding the capsule in seconds, glass glowing with crimson light that writhed like a thing alive.

Fi’s eyes widened on the offering.

The taste of ozone fluttered her stomach, not entirely unpleasant.

“If we’re to face Verne,” Antal said. “You’ll need this. And enough luck to fill the Void.”