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“Goddess, where are we going?"

The storm drain was small, narrow, and winding. Mud sucked at every footstep, thick and wet, while vermin scurried through every corner, their eyes glimmering in the dark. The weight of a city pressed above their heads.

Sadik had become very familiar with the layout of Acheron's sewers, but he had never travelled through this particular section before. Wherever they were, it was deep beneath the earth, far from the sluice gates and spillways that overflowed with the storm of blood. Here, the sewage smelled only like sewage.

“Sadik," Kavaia replied. “Imagine this as an adventure. A fun diversion."

“I think I would prefer to be clean."

“Do as your goddess commands."

Sadik suppressed a sigh, his sandals sinking into muck and filth.

After the meeting at the sanctuary, Kavaia had led him away from the headquarters of the Sons of Sorrow, promising him a “gift". She had not explained any further. After following her through a series of drains and tunnels, Sadik still did not know where they were going, or what he was meant to receive.

There were several sources of light in the tunnel. Sadik was burning all his tattoos at a low phosphorescence—at the same time, he raised Dusksong above his head, pointing the flat of the blade down every turn and pathway. In front of him, Kavaia held a double-headed warhammer at her side, the head and haft subtly carved with the same glowing runes as his sword.

It was Gidros' weapon. The one that had massacred dozens of his men. The blood and gore had been cleaned, and Sadik was grateful it did not reside in the hands of the rhino any longer—but, still, seeing the divine weapon made him uneasy. He thought of Ilios. Feathers flayed, blood dripping upon marble.

“Do you need that weapon, goddess?"

“Why do you ask? Am I outshining you?"

“It makes me question my safety."

Kavaia loosed a rumble from her chest. “I fought the god of the sun, and now he is dead. It is my hammer, by right of battle. The weight brings me satisfaction."

“That sounds quite . . . barbarian of you."

“Indeed."

They continued on. Kavaia led the way, stooping herself below the low ceiling. Her posterior loomed toward his face. He remembered lavishing it with scented oils, tracing the curves and smooth, inner scales. When his eyes continued down the length of her thick, spiny tail, he remembered lying upon the soft underside as he pleasured her with his tongue. His tattoos burned brighter.

He still didn't know what he should do with her. She was going to try something romantic, that much was obvious. But he couldn't. . . .

He didn't want to hurt her again. If he didn't feel ready to pursue another relationship, if he knew, in his heart, that he still needed time to grieve, then he shouldn't give her hope. It would not be fair, to either of them.

But, then, if this wasn't what he wanted, why was he letting it happen?

“Stop."

Sadik stopped. Ahead, a dim light appeared in the distance. From the mouth of the drain, there were glimpses of carved stone, hints of roaring water and creaking metal.

“We've arrived," Kavaia said, turning to face him. “Close your eyes."

“Pardon?"

“It's a surprise. Close your eyes."

“. . . goddess, this is childish."

Kavaia's teeth emerged along her snout. “Do you even remember being a child, Sadik?"

“Do you?"

She breathed through her nostrils. “It sounds as if my servant is disobeying an order. Surely, that's not correct. He wouldn't dream of angering his goddess, would he?"

“You're going to take full advantage of my faith, aren't you?"

“No," Kavaia said, “but, unfortunately, you are an incorrigible man, and this is the only way you'll allow me to help you. Now close your eyes, or I will make you a footstool."

Sadik sighed, let his tattoos grow inert, and closed his eyes.

“Hold out your hand," Kavaia said.

Sadik sighed again, obeying. The goddess of death enclosed his hand within her own, burying him with the cool touch of her palm. Gently, she tugged him forward, and Sadik followed behind, letting her guide him ahead.

“Everything has to be difficult with you," Kavaia said. “Doesn't it?"

“My apologies, goddess."

“Quiet."

She led him on. The sound of roaring water grew louder. A gentle breeze brushed across his skin, the air tasting like earth and stone. Soon, he felt light upon his eyelids, and, with it, the feeling of enclosure faded away, replaced with a sense of space and distance. Wherever they were, it was vast in size.

She began to guide him in a curving path. The mud and sewage at his feet was replaced with the smooth, hard face of stone, occasionally sprinkled with loose dirt. Instead of his environment, Sadik began to focus on Kavaia's hand—her size, her gentle embrace, the fact that she could easily break every bone in his hand.

“Do not peek," Kavaia said.

“I wouldn't dare."

They continued forward. Waterfalls roared in the distance. Soon, Sadik smelled the distinctive tinge of smoke. A fire crackled nearby.

“Wait here," she said.

She let go of his hand, moving ahead. Sadik remained where he was. After a few moments, beneath the churn of waterfalls, there was the sound of small, metal objects rattling together. Soon after, he heard Kavaia suck in a breath, as if preparing her courage.

“Open!"

He opened his eyes. A picnic spread before him. There were assortments of Kesunae food, neatly arranged into dishes and bowls—roasted meat, curds of cheese, rolls of bread baked from wild grains. Sitting cushions had been arranged by a small campfire, and the fire itself was burning from logs chopped from the Neheamatt, the wood glowing and swirling beneath the flames. Raw Glimmer rose with the smoke, like tiny flecks of stars.

In the distance, waterfalls fell in a half-circle, spraying into a deep abyss. They were standing on a small outcropping of stone on the edge of a vast drainage pit. Unlike the chamber they had seen below Kohav Yaran, this one was not designed as a dumping ground for the city's sewage—instead, the water pouring from the tunnels was diverted from surface rivers and underground aquifers, spraying down into the depths of the earth so that it may nourish the roots of Aldunya. She required unimaginable quantities of water to sustain herself.

As Sadik took in his surroundings, his eyes eventually fell on the last sight before him—Kavaia, standing by the food and cushions. Slowly, she opened her arms.

“Surprise!" she said.

Sadik blinked, taking everything in.

His silence made her hesitate. “I. . . ." She shifted on her feet. “Well, it's rather modest, even with the circumstances. Amira showed me how to find this vista, the Lord of Bones provided the banquet, and . . . well, I thought it might suffice for a . . . celebration. If you wished."

“Goddess," Sadik said. “This is wonderful."

Kavaia's entire body began to perk. “Yes?"

“Yes. I've always loved picnics. The quiet seclusion of a garden." His eyes rested on the fire, watching Glimmer rise in the smoke. “I've . . . missed it terribly."

The goddess of death almost spoke, cleared her throat, and, instead, started to grab plates and silverware. “Well, come, come! Seat yourself! I don't know of you, but the smell of meat is leaving me ravenous."

Sadik approached the offerings of food, trying to decide on a main course. Kavaia waved him away.

“I will serve you," she said.

“That might be sacrilege, goddess."

She gently knocked his chest with her hip, pushing him away. “Please. Sit."

Sadik moved over to the seating cushions. They were wide and plush, clearly taken from one of the temples on the surface. When he sat down upon the fabric, he felt himself sinking into its depths, the aches and tension in his muscles immediately finding relief. With some nearby blankets, and a few adjustments, the two of them could easily sleep in comfort, if they wished.

To the side, Kavaia moved between the different foods, filling a plate with meats and cheese. She was rumbling beneath her breath. A small, happy hum.

Her back turned to him. Her posterior hugged the fabric of her dress, shifting with every sway of her hips, and he could easily trace the scales and chines running up her spine, flowing through the subtle dip of her waist and the peaking curve of her breast—

Sadik tore his gaze away, staring out at the waterfalls. His face was very hot.

“Milk or wine?" Kavaia asked.

“Both?"

Her rumbling intensified, sounding pleased. Sadik gazed down at the abyss.

There was nothing to see—only a bed of darkness, endless and complete. The waterfalls turned to mist as they fell, faintly sparkling in the air, and, when Sadik tossed a stone into the chasm, it disappeared within seconds. There was no sound of its landing.

He remembered the battle between Aldunya and the Metal Plague. Even now, it must've been raging at the very bottom of the Foundations, far below the eyes of mortals and gods. Rotted tendrils worming through bark, colossal roots oozing with blight and pus. He could only imagine the extent of the infestation.

The Metal Plague had ravaged Acheron for months. In that time, it had brought thousands into its thrall, twisting and morphing their bodies into the vision of a mad god. Many had been corralled beneath the earth, journeying down through the sewers and ruins below, as if gathering for some grand purpose. What did it hope to achieve? What could it possibly be doing down in the dark, where no one was able to see?

Rushan had become infected. Had he already joined their ranks?

Sadik was struck with the feeling that, all along, he had been ignoring the true threat to the city. The plague was gathering its strength. There was a cunning intelligence behind all its actions. He only had to remember the sight of Gidros, exploding with the power of the sun, to know this for certain.

But what could he possibly do? No amount of burns and culling had managed to stop the spread. If even Aldunya could succumb to infection, what were the chances—

He stirred from his thoughts. Above, Kavaia had fallen to a knee, presenting him with a plate full of food.

“Only the best cuts," she said, a smile worming through her reptilian features. “For you."

Sadik accepted the plate. She had prepared an extensive spread of meat, cheese, yogurt, and bread, complete with cups of milk and wine. When she sat on the cushion next to him, her own plate was similar, if twice as large.

“Sample the horse meat first," Kavaia said, already cutting into a steak. “I'm quite fond of the roasting."

They ate in a comfortable silence, with the clinks of silverware and the distant roar of waterfalls. Sadik was far hungrier than he realized. The rationing of food, and the stress of his work, had forced him to dine sparingly, and he found himself savoring the feeling of a full belly. The meat was delicious, and the wine quickly reached his head.

“Try this," Kavaia said, handing him a drink.

“Is that . . . blood?"

“Yes. Horse's blood."

He gazed up at the crocodile.

“It will make you fierce in battle," Kavaia said.

He took a generous sip. It tasted like he expected it to taste—metallic, slightly thick and very salty. He coughed, handing it back.

Kavaia hummed, taking a full swig. Crimson leaked between her teeth. “Once, I subsisted for days on nothing but wild flowers and the blood of my stallion. The siege of Darvi, if I recall correctly." She paused. “Or was it Darkhan?"

“I believe the city is now called Uzhar-Lepsy."

She nodded, staring into her drink. “Hm. Yes. Names always change."

A silence fell. Sadik glanced at her. She had reclined against the spread of cushions, resting her cheek against a loose fist. One of her legs was bent, the knee rising high. The hem of her dress—

“Sadik."

He blinked. “Yes, goddess?"

“Is there something you wish of me?"

“Nothing in particular."

“I can see your attention wandering." She spread her shoulders, pushing her breasts into view. “Am I distracting you?"

“Not in the least, goddess."

“So you don't find my appearance enchanting?"

“No, goddess. Of course I do."

“So you were looking at me."

“I am sure, if I was looking, that I would find you beautiful. However, I was not looking, so I cannot say."

“Well, Sadik, what if I wanted you to look at me?"

“. . . please have mercy on me, goddess."

She gave a small rumble, her dozens of teeth emerging in a grin. “More wine?"

“As you wish."

She filled his cup. With a slight shift of position, she tossed another log of glimmering wood onto the fire, causing an eruption of light and ember. It was said that the wood of the Neheamatt could burn for days at a time, and one could find the secrets of the stars by staring into the swirling bark. Sadik took a glance, saw the flames burn an unnatural yellow, and looked away.

Another silence fell. Both of them nursed their drinks, staring into different corners. As the quiet grew long, he began to feel her stare upon his back. She was lounging against the cushions, but, occasionally, he could see her shift uneasily, working up the courage to act. She wanted to say something.

This was it. The moment he had been dreading.

Sadik took a deep breath.

“Kavaia," he said. “I'm sorry."

Her tail began to slither.

“I didn't mean to hurt you." He focused his gaze on the abyss. “I was . . . trying to make my last amends, before I died. It wouldn't have been right to say nothing, even if that's what I did for the rest. I was. . . ."

“Sadik," Kavaia said. “It's fine. I forgive you." She gestured at the food and cushions. “I had hoped this would make my feelings clear."

“I don't know if I deserve . . . all this."

“Forgiveness is not yours to want. It is mine to give."

He took a sip of wine, looking away.

Kavaia rose into a sitting position. She was so tall that, even while sitting side by side, his head was level with her breasts. “I know you weren't trying to be cruel. I've seen the etchings of your soul. If you'll allow me, I like to think I know you better than most."

Another silence. Sadik took another sip of wine, feeling many emotions warring in his chest.

She traced a finger through the cushions at his side. “Are you feeling better?"

“For now. I don't know what the future will bring. I think I. . . ." He blinked. “I think I confessed to you because I was begging for your help."

Her throat bulged. “Truly?"

“In my own way, I suppose."

“Have I . . . been of any help?"

He looked at the warhammer resting by the fire. Yellow flames, enhanced with Glimmer, curled beside the rune-carved steel.

She had refreshed a hundred of his men, driving herself to pain and exhaustion. She had leaped into the air, hammer in hand, rising to strike the god of the sun amidst a chaos of flames and vines. In his mind's eye, he saw her leading a mad dash through the quarantine zone, dodging the infected and a rain of godly fire.

Even now, he could remember hugging her waist, clinging for safety.

“Yes," Sadik said. “Without you, Fading Dawn would've failed. I would've joined my men in death. You were . . . spectacular. A true example of a god."

She gave a soft snort. “I would not go that far."

“Well, regardless, I would still be dead without you. You have healed my wounds many times, long before I learned any lesson. So, thank you, Kavaia. For this, and all the rest."

She did not respond for a moment. When Sadik glanced at her, he saw an expression close to shock on her face. “I am never a source of comfort to anyone. My name is said with spit and curses, and I have grown used. . . ." She paused. “I am very glad to hear that, Sadik."

He nodded, silent. The wine was reaching his head, loosening his thoughts. Something told him to chase the feeling. He drank the rest of his cup.

Kavaia laced her fingers together, staring into her lap. “Was it . . . only her that you saw in me?"

“No," Sadik said, firmly. “It was not just Hisana. Not. . . ." He sighed. “Not entirely."

“It was difficult not to wonder."

He forced himself to meet her eyes. “You do remind me of her. The cool gaze, the quiet intensity." He gestured. “The size."

Kavaia adjusted the neck of her dress.

“Both of you would break yourselves trying to help the many. Like me."

She looked down at her hands. In the distance, water sprayed and roared.

“It was not some vicarious fantasy," Sadik said. “It's . . . not been very long since I lost her, and my child, and I am still grieving. It was difficult not to. . . ."

“Difficult not to think of her," Kavaia finished.

“Yes. Very difficult."

Beside them, the campfire crackled. Glimmer rose in sparkles of light.

“Do you want to be with me?" Kavaia asked, quietly.

Sadik glanced at her, almost spoke, turned away, and buried his face in his hand, breathing deeply. When she rested a hand on his shoulder, it felt like his heart was splitting in twain.

“I'm sorry," he said.

“Don't apologize."

“I should not have acted how I have. With you. It wasn't fair, to either of us."

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “Sadik, all the things I have done for you, you have done for me. If not for you, I would be dead, or, worse, a concubine of Rushan, like Thimera." She paused, glancing at the fire. “You lifted my spirits when no one cared for my sorrow. You told me that I had to stop being selfish." Her tail thumped against the cushions. “It was exactly what I needed to hear. I have very much taken it to heart."

He lowered his hand from his face, forcing himself to meet her gaze. Beneath the rigid snout and predator eyes, her expression was one of kindness. A soft, searching gaze.

“Our meeting may have been a mistake," Kavaia said, “but it was one of the best I've ever made. I would suffer it all again, just for you."

He breathed, slowly.

“I want this, Sadik. And I think you do, too."

Sadik felt his mouth open. There was a torrent of words ready to escape his throat, everything he had felt and never said over the last several weeks of his life. He wanted release. He wanted to not be strong and silent, because, in truth, he was not very strong, and the silence was torturing him. He wanted someone to know that he was tired and hurt and scared, and he did not think he could live this way, any longer. Something had to change.

Kavaia rubbed her hand against his arm, warm flesh against leathery skin.

A tightness gripped his heart. He closed his mouth and looked away, gazing beyond the food and cushions and warm, soothing flames. Kavaia released a breath. His face burned with shame.

They were silent for a time. Below, an abyss yawned before them, black and consuming. Out of sight, through many layers of rock, metal, and stone, a world continued above their heads. It felt very far away.

He wanted his old life. He wanted everything back the way it had been. The faces and friends, the prestige of command, the glory of battle. He wanted the nights he had stolen in the chamber of the Vizier. He wanted. . . .

He wanted to be with Kavaia.

The sentence pierced through the chaos of his mind, striking him like a sunspear. It had always been there, hiding behind his lies and excuses, and, now that he had admitted it to himself, the knowledge stood immovable among the rest of his thoughts, like a rock jutting above a stormy sea, unbroken from the crashing waves.

It still felt like he was betraying Hisana. It felt like he was betraying the tenets of his duty, the ones that placed sacrifice and austerity above all else. Everything he had known—his culture, his religion, his duty—was telling him to feel ashamed.

He did not want to feel ashamed anymore.

Sadik turned to face her. She snapped her gaze to him, alert and waiting. There was a long moment of contact. Eyes, hands, and breath. The fire crackled beside them, spreading a heat into the air.

He started to move. He stopped. A fear burned in his belly.

Kavaia searched his face, her eyes ancient and piercing. Slowly, she leaned over him, maw opening, descending like a cloud in the sky. He had to raise his chin to meet her.

She kissed his lips with the hard, scaled ridge of her jaw. It was just as awkward as their kiss in the brothel. Slowly, Kavaia gripped his shoulder for leverage, pulling him closer to her side. Her maw began to rotate, studying the angles, allowing her tongue—

Sadik turned his face away. Kavaia pulled back by inches, a surprised snort rushing through his hair.

“I'm sorry," he said, tattoos smoldering into light. “I don't mean—"

She rumbled in her chest. With her hand on his shoulder, and her weight towering above him, it was enough to tremble his bones.

He met her gaze. She had eyes the color of saffron stems, and her slit pupils were so close that it felt like they were cutting through his soul. Slowly, firmly, she pressed the edge of her snout to his cheek. Her head was so large, and her snout so long, that she could still meet his eyes while whispering in his ear.

“I am not Hisana," she said. “You have to make peace with that."

He felt transfixed by her eyes. Utterly helpless.

“Letting go of your pain does not mean letting go of her."

He leaned against her snout, seeking support.

“You can be happy again. It is not a betrayal." She nuzzled his cheek, slow and soft. “It's what she would've wanted."

His chest began to ache. His eyes drifted to the side, where she had rested her warhammer against the sparkling flames. It was taller than him. Glowing with runes. Fit only for divinity.

“You are a god," he said.

“Right now," she replied, breath whispering across his skin, “I am only a woman."

“How could I—"

She began to rub her snout against the tender nape of his neck, breathing his scent. He felt the edges of teeth.

“I've only lived a fraction of your years," Sadik said, feeling weak beneath her. “You have existed with legends and heroes. Met millions of souls. How could I compare to the gods?" He wrapped his hand around her wrist, gently pushing away. “How could a torch compare to the sun?"

She pulled back, still leaning over him. His skin tingled with the remnants of her touch, and he had to look nearly straight above to meet her gaze.

“Well, now," Kavaia said, with something close to amusement. “I believe a torch and the sun are quite easy to compare, in truth. It would not be a difficult choice."

“How so?"

Humming to herself, the goddess of death reclined against the cushions, her hand never leaving his shoulder. She watched him patiently. When he didn't move, she pulled him down with her. They faced each other on the cushions, bodies splayed and faces close.

“At first," Kavaia said, “the decision seems obvious. A torch will not give much light, and, once aflame, it will expire fast, like all others of its kind. Meanwhile, in the sky, the sun is grand and eternal, providing life to all who step beneath its rays. It might seem that only a fool would prefer a torch when she could have the sun."

Her hand began to move from his shoulder, slowly tracing the curve of his neck.

“But," she continued, “as I'm sure you know, the sun can be cruel. Stand beneath it for long, and it will inflict you with thirst. It will strain your eyes, burn your skin. Most importantly, it cares nothing for the people beneath it. If you were to travel through a dark cave, a place where you would need light the most, it would not follow you. It would only continue through the sky, unconcerned, while you are left alone, in the dark."

She shifted closer. Little distance remained.

“Oh, but a torch."

Her fingers cupped his jaw, gently raising his eyes to hers.

“A torch," Kavaia said, “will follow you into the darkest caves, the deepest chambers. All the places where you fear to tread the most. It will warm the chilly air, and it will give light where there is only darkness. Beside its humble flames, you will find safety, direction, and purpose." Her thumb carved a gentle path across his cheek. “Even though the sun shines brighter than all, a torch will always hold greater value, because, so long as you hold it in your hand, it will never leave your side."

Sadik let her words drift between them. Kavaia gave him a soft smile, tracing the tattoos close to his ear.

“Goddess," he said. “Does this mean you want to . . . hold my torch?"

She blinked. “Pardon?"

“My torch. You want to hold it in your hands?"

Her maw began to open in surprise.

“I understand," Sadik said. “It is quite a warm torch, and many do find comfort in the feeling of a long, hard shaft."

“By the stars," Kavaia said, “do not tell me—"

“Just be careful, goddess. The head of a torch should be approached with caution. One careless stroke and—"

“Sadik!" Her hand gripped his face. “You have a filthy mind!"

“I am only anticipating your desires, goddess."

Kavaia's maw dropped open, scandalized. “Here I am, crafting a metaphor to link our souls, and you have to ruin it with your base desires!"

“Imagine what would happen if you held my base, goddess."

“Stop that. Right now."

He smiled innocently, face cradled in her palm.

She loosed a heavy breath from her nostrils. When she leaned over, it felt like a wall tipping above him. “Listen to me, little mortal. I am seducing you, and that means you will not debase your goddess when she is trying very hard to be romantic."

“I humbly apologize. How may I be forgiven?"

“You may start," Kavaia said, “by wiping that smirk off your face."

Sadik tried to hide his smile. It didn't work. In the back of his mind, he realized it was the first genuine grin he had felt in weeks.

Slowly, Kavaia's expression grew more amused than irritated. She leaned so close that her breasts nearly spilled across his arm. “Tell me my picnic was delightful."

“I wish it would never end, goddess."

“Tell me I am gorgeous."

“You are the picture of beauty, goddess."

“Tell me that you are awed by my wisdom."

“No greater mind exists in all the world, goddess."

They stared at each other, lips and snout nearly meeting. For the life of him, Sadik could not stop smiling. His face was beginning to ache.

“You little shit," Kavaia said. “Fuck you."

Sadik burst out laughing. A warmth spread through his body, mixing with the wine and food.

Kavaia laughed with him, now grinning just as wide. Both of them surrendered to the moment, surrounded by sheets and comfort, warm from the fire and heedless of the world above. Slowly, as they regained their breath, her hand switched from cupping his jaw to lying flat against his chest, gently applying pressure.

“This isn't funny, Sadik," she said, still grinning. “I am actually quite upset with you."

“Do what you must. I have already won."

She pushed him flat against the cushion. With a sudden speed, she rose to her hands and knees above him, blocking everything else from view. All Sadik could see was myrtle scales, a white kalasiris dress, and a devious expression in her eyes.

“Very well," she said, letting her tongue loll from her maw. “Consider this a lesson."

She struck forward, twisting to the side. Sadik barely had time to flinch before his head was engulfed inside the vortex of a crocodilian mouth, like a gazelle ambushed at the edge of a river. Each of his ears was clamped between her jaws, and, in seconds, he could see nothing but the soft, pink flesh of her tongue, probing for his face. With teeth on his skin, saliva in his hair, and vibrations rumbling through his skull, Sadik felt like he was being eaten alive.

Kavaia began to lick. Because she had twisted her maw to grip his head, her tongue had to travel sideways—slapping into his cheek, dragging a heavy trail across his nose, and flinging off the edge of his brow. Every swipe left him coated in slobber. Soon, he had to close his eyes, blindly bracing through her affections.

He tried to kiss her tongue directly, but her jaws had him gripped him like a pair of pliers, and he had no leverage beneath her size—the most he could do was press his lips forward when her tongue slapped him in the mouth. Despite the awkwardness, his efforts were rewarded with harder licks and a deep, amused rumble.

Soon, after several terrifying moments, he tapped the underside of her jaw, begging for release. She continued to batter him. He sucked in a breath full of salvia and gripped the ends of her maw, trying to pry her apart. Eventually, she relented, releasing his head with a pop of her jaw.

Sadik rested against the cushions, his face wet, his skin cratered with dozens of teeth. “Gods preserve me."

“No," Kavaia replied.

She began to tear at his armor, trying to undo the binds, her efforts both passionate and clumsy. Sadik did his best to assist her. Together, they managed to lift the armor over his head and toss it next to the fire. His skirt and padding quickly followed.

Kavaia loomed above him, her eyes drinking his naked body. Sadik shifted beneath her, slightly scared and achingly hard.

“Goddess," he said, “perhaps—"

She struck again. This time, she slapped him in the chest with her tongue, dragging it back and forth in quick, descending slashes. His torso was covered in tattoos, twisting like vines, and she made a half-consistent effort to trace them with her licks, carving a path down from his chest to his belly. She was heading right for his groin.

“Goddess."

Her hands pressed on his thighs, holding him still.

“Goddess!"

Her tongue collided with the base of his cock. Slowly, with a cruel sort of laziness, she dragged her wet muscle up the length of his shaft, taking several seconds to complete the journey. Sadik gripped the cushions around him. When she swirled the tip of her tongue across his head, it took all his effort not to buck into her face.

She took her time with him—wet, firm, and toying. Her tongue came with such heavy weight that every lick sent pleasure screaming up his spine, and she always found a way to renew the attack, changing the angle, rhythm, and speed. He could do nothing but squirm.

But, soon, she stopped. It took Sadik a few moments to collect himself. When he looked, Kavaia was already halfway through the removal of her dress, exposing the soft, lime-green scales beneath. Her breasts fell free—black areolae, heaving weight. Each one would've struck him like a boulder.

Sadik began to sit up.

“Stay down," she said.

He stayed down. His entire body was wet.

She tossed her dress aside. Her scales glimmered with the yellow flames behind, like a shifting sea of stars. With her tongue still lolling from her maw, she began to knead a breast in her hand, massaging the pillowy flesh—with the other hand, she traced a slow path across her stomach, directing his gaze to glimmering scales and curving hips. Her eyes never left his face. Fierce, carnal.

“Can I tell you you're gorgeous?" Sadik asked.

Suddenly, she grabbed him by the ankles, yanking his body close. His ass met her knees, his thighs resting atop her own. Above, she loomed like a mountain.

“Y-your picnic was wonderful!"

One hand dug beneath his back, fingers pressing on his spine. The other grabbed a sizable portion of his ass. Slowly, she lifted him from the cushions. Her maw opened wide.

Sadik saw exactly what she intended.

“Not my torch!"

Kavaia speared his cock into her mouth, holding him several feet above the ground. It felt like she was trying to swallow him from the point of his groin. Once he was inside, his body thrown over her face like one might throw a towel over their shoulder, she sealed her lipless maw around his cock—sucking, mouthing, burying him in a wet, lurid embrace.

“Teeth! Teeth!"

She lessened the pressure, using her hands to shift him to a better angle. With his torso draped across her head, she only had to prevent him from sliding away. There was no escape.

Her tongue met his cock again. With the extra leverage available, her licks became much more adept—dragging up and down, dashing side to side, coiling, swirling, using only the tip in one moment and slamming him with a flat wave of muscle in the next. Occasionally, she would press his cock to the roof of her mouth, trapping him between two wet embraces. Her teeth were never far.

Sadik was helpless. Even while kneeling, Kavaia still held him five feet above the ground, and she was licking him so mercilessly that his vision was growing hazy. Weak from pleasure, he barely managed to hook his heel against the back of her shoulder, gaining some small leverage. After a few more fruitless struggles, he managed to straight himself enough that he was not draping his chest across her face.

He met her eyes. She watched him like a predator circling her prey, delighting in every reaction.

“Stop—stop looking at me!"

Her tongue slammed into his cock, sopping wet and flat as a hammer. Her eyes never wavered.

“Goddess—gods!"

Her hands squeezed him further into her mouth. The size of his cock was not unimpressive, but Kavaia was a god, and crocodiles were not known for their modest snouts. Even with the tip of her maw pressing into his groin, he only made it halfway to her throat. A rumble came from her chest. She wanted more.

Sadik felt compelled to oblige.

With a foot on her breast, and his ankle around her shoulder, Sadik began to fuck her mouth. It was a delicate process—her teeth were large, and her hands were the only thing keeping him from falling. Despite the danger, he thrusted against her tongue, his cockhead scraping the roof of her mouth. Every inch he discovered brought him to new heights of ecstasy.

There was a rumble beneath him. She squeezed his ass, reaffirming her grip.

All at once, she began to aid him in fucking her face, pressing him down at the peak of his strokes and flattening her tongue against the roof of her mouth, giving him both the perfect tunnel to enter and the strength with which to do it. Around them, the picnic began to echo with wet, sucking thrusts, as well as the sound of his balls slapping into her chin.

He went faster. Sawing in, sawing out, widening the length of the strokes, throwing himself into the act with complete abandon. Kavaia's nostrils blasted him with breath. Without warning, she tilted her chin upward, cutting through his balance and folding his body like a V around her maw, leaving him no more dignified than a dog humping a pillow. It did not slow him in the slightest.

He had missed this.

Freedom. Release. Pure animal desire.

For the first time since fleeing the palace, he felt truly alive.

Pleasure built in his core, sharp and rising. He hadn't received any sort of release in weeks, and this one promised to squeeze out every last drop of his soul. Every limb was tingling, every tattoo burning alight, every thrust adding more fuel to the coming flame.

“Goddess," he said, tapping the side of her head. “I'm going—"

She tightened her grip on his ass, sealing off his retreat. He had no choice but to go deeper.

He thrusted. She pressed. The fire cracked beside them, and the abyss seemed very far away. Nothing mattered but barreling straight over the edge.

“Goddess!"

Sadik erupted into her mouth—cock shuddering, mind exploding, every fiber of his being compelling him to unload rope after rope of cum directly into her waiting maw. Her tongue still lavished his cock, sharpening every wave of esctacy, and Sadik ended up draping himself across her face, moaning in helpless pleasure. When she began to swallow, the contractions nearly blinded him.

Eventually, after many throbbing seconds, his climax began to recede, leaving him gasping, tingling, and spent. Kavaia kept her jaw tilted upward, lapping up his emissions and gently cleaning the length of his cock, like she was draining the last few drops from a cup. Sadik could do nothing but grow limp against her face.

Time passed. His vision returned.

Slowly, she lowered her head, tilting him out of her mouth. A webbing of saliva stretched between maw and groin. With his body cradled in her hands, Kavaia laid him gently against the cushions below, like placing a treasured relic upon a shrine. He melted into comfort.

“I hope," Kavaia said, “you have learned your lesson."

“. . . what were we talking about?"

She snorted. After a low rumble, and a quick wipe of her jaw, she fell to the cushions beside him, stretching herself with a sigh. Sadik stared up at the distant, stone ceiling, as if he had completely forgotten it was there. Waterfalls roared in the distance, and a swirl of Glimmer leapt from the fire at their side, scattering like a swarm of flies.

He did not move. No thoughts clouded his mind. For a time, he knew peace.

“Oh, servant."

Kavaia had gathered several cushions and blankets around her, forming a luxurious pile. She reclined her back against the mound—with a devious gaze, she beckoned him with a finger, patting a spot between her breasts.

“You are invited to lay with me."

He crawled to her. She spread her arms, baring the soft, lime-green scales of her belly, and he dove right into their midst, flopping himself between the pillowy valley of her breasts. Kavaia threw her head back in pleasure.

“Warm! Warm!"

Her entire body began to hug him—arms on his back, breasts on his side, thighs squeezing his legs into a prison of cool scales. No warmth escaped her grasp. With a deeply satisfied rumble, she grabbed a blanket from the pile below and threw it over the two of them, leaving only his head and neck exposed.

“Sadik," Kavaia said, “you need to stay right here. Forever. What an absolute crime it is for you to not live between me."

He spread his arms beneath her breasts, burying his warmth deep into her chest. She threw her head back in open, sinful pleasure.

“Listen to me," she said. “I will have Yasmin craft a harness. I will wear you beneath my dress, like the world's finest brassiere. Your warmth will never leave me again."

He rested his cheek against her chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of her heart.

“I am being quite serious, Sadik."

“I'm sure you are, goddess."

She gave a playful whine, rubbing her arms along his naked back. “Please?"

“What would I receive, in this arrangement?"

With a twist of her neck, she began to lick his face, her tongue heavy and slow.

“I see," Sadik said. “That is a compelling argument. Perhaps, for now, we could settle on moving your bed into my home."

Her tongue left his face. “Yes?"

“Yes. You shouldn't stay at the brothel any longer. The same comfort could be provided elsewhere."

“Ah, yes," Kavaia said. “The same comfort. As a brothel."

“I am referring to the beds."

“Of course you were."

“This is an important duty I am fulfilling, goddess."

“I agree. In fact, I am happy to accept."

“Good."

“Excellent."

“Agreed."

He shifted against her, finding a more comfortable position. With her back against the cushions, there was a slight rise in her chest, giving it the impression of a large, reptilian pillow. He closed his eyes, drifting away.

They rested for a time. The only sound was the distant roar of waterfalls, the crackling of fire, and the whisper of soft, quiet breathing. Sadik focused on the slow rise of her chest, the rhythmic beating of her heart. It was all too familiar.

It was how he had always slept with Hisana.

His breath quickened. His heart skipped a beat.

All this time, he had not thought of her. For a time, he had managed to let go. But, now, in the quiet comfort of someone else's arms, the memories came flooding back again.

And, without warning, he was picturing her in his mind again. He was back in the chamber of the Vizier, lying on her chest, swaddled in her arms. He was watching her sleep. He was tracing the grey hide and dusky red skin. He was kissing the small pits of her muzzle. He was hoping that the moment would never end, because he could stare at her face for hours and still find something new to love.

Kavaia's hand shifted on his back.

He was watching her head roll across the marble. He was hearing the splatter of blood, the gurgling breaths and spilling guts. He was fleeing through the burning halls, covered in blood, blinded with tears, unable to kill the woman he had raised.

“Sadik?"

He was hiding in the sewers. He was praying to gods that would not answer. He was fighting with everything he had, and it was still not enough, and he was certain that he deserved nothing less than hatred and scorn for his failures, and the fact that people offered him kindness was only making it worse.

“Sadik, please."

He was tired.

He was ashamed.

He was desperately waiting for something to put him out of his misery.

He. . . .

“Let it out," Kavaia said.

He breathed, feeling very small.

She rubbed her hand along his back. She rested her chin on his head. When she spoke, her words were soft and gentle. “Let it out."

He crawled up her chest, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and buried his face into her neck. Slowly, he began to weep. Emotions boiled from the depths of his soul—rage for his enemies, fear for his future, grief and sorrow for his loss. He held nothing down, and he did not stop until he was left mewling in her arms, gasping and raw, overcome with everything he had tried to deny.

Kavaia continued to hold him, saying nothing. She stroked his back, nestled her cheek. It was everything he needed. He cried until his voice was gone and his tears glistened on her scales.

Around them, a fire burned. Rivers flowed. Darkness curled below, and stone loomed above, as silent as a grave. There was a world, somewhere, continuing to turn above their heads. But, right then, it was far away, and it did not matter.

They focused only on each other.

The night drifted away. She never let him go.