Chapter 1
Voss
“You can see your bride now,” the temple’s priestess said, looking somewhere over my shoulder.
I took in her rigid posture and the tension around her eyes, small muscles twitching with the readiness to slam her eyelids shut. She never looked at my face, not once since I came in, and her disrespect stirred my rage into a red whirlpool in my gut.
Of course, I knew she didn’t mean to disrespect me. I was the last of my kind, and few humans knew the ways of my species. She probably had no idea that eye contact was the most important part of any interaction with a basilisk. It was a symbol of trust and pure intentions.
A person who avoided eye contact most likely meant harm. And so now, even though the priestess was merely a human and could do nothing to hurt me, my fury rose with the need to kill her first, before she had a chance to attack.
My instincts interpreted her shiftiness as a threat.
I blinked heavily, wrenching my heart and the rage that always simmered in my bloodstream into a firm cage of control. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper here. Not when I was about to meet my bride.
And yet, it was so difficult to keep my anger on a leash. In recent years, I’d grown more and more furious with each passing day, the hot need to kill and maim at the forefront of my mind, the itch to dismember and gorge myself on fear like a second nature that just waited to take over.
I was a ticking bomb, and the only way to keep myself from becoming a bloodthirsty killing machine was to mate.
“Lead on,” I told the priestess, looking steadily into her brown eyes.
She flinched, hearing the cold hiss of my voice. Already twitchy, she now grew shaky, her hands trembling as she crumpled the fabric of her white robe. Her fear only fed my rage, a need rising up within me that was almost sensual.
To sink my fangs into warm, wriggling flesh. To tear chunks of it free. To swallow them whole, the meat seasoned with a cacophony of terrified screams.
I slammed the heavy doors of my control shut, dulling my senses. The world gained a dreamy, desaturated quality as my body grew cold, shutting off everything that fed my rage. I breathed in, ignoring the heavy scent of fear, and made my heart slow down. Thump. Thump. …Thump.
There. A beast, caged. At least for as long as I could keep myself on a leash.
If the priestess dared to look into my eyes now, she’d notice a glazed, distracted look in them. She’d also see for herself that I meant her no harm. My eyes were covered with thin membranes, my secondary eyelids that turned the black of my large pupils milky, the outer circles of my gold irises dull. It was an innate feature every basilisk was born with. The protective membranes turned our lethal gaze harmless.
“Of course. Follow me,” she said, avoiding my eyes, and set out in fast, jerky movements.
I walked slowly, the claws of my scale-covered feet clicking against the marble. One of my steps covered as much ground as three of hers, but it wasn’t because I was overly large. Maybe two heads taller than an average human, I moved faster and with more efficiency than them. I was equipped with powerful muscles and a superior sense of balance, aided by my long, scaly tail.
Speed and grace of movement weren’t the only things making me faster and more dangerous than humans. I killed easily with my claws or even a well-aimed swing of my tail. Yet that wasn’t what they feared the most.
What terrified them were my eyes.
Even now, as we passed through the large atrium of the temple, other visitors turned away as soon as I approached. I saw the awareness of my passage in their tight shoulders, closed-off expressions, the tension around their eyes.
I counted almost fifty people in the atrium. Out of them all, no one, not one single person, looked into my eyes. It was as if I was beneath their attention. Something not even worth being looked at.
A sudden bout of loneliness filled my chest, snaking up into my throat with a low, pitiful cry. I stifled it, releasing an angry hiss instead. The priestess tensed further and sped up without looking at me.
And just like that, my anger boiled hot again. Usually, my control lasted for longer, but this was an extraordinary situation. I was about to meet the woman who, according to the temple’s promises, was my perfect match.
If that was true, she would be the key to containing my rage and giving purpose to my life. She was my last chance.
If the temple failed and the woman didn’t stir my mating instinct, I was doomed.
“Just this way,” the priestess said in a choked, high-pitched voice, leading me into a wide corridor lit with torches. I followed, trying to put a lid on the overflowing sea of fury and despair that sloshed through my veins.
But my anger only grew, fueled by the disdain I just experienced and amplified further by my impatience to finally know for sure. Would I live or would I die? The woman waiting for me in the wedding chamber would seal my fate.
A queasy, unpleasant feeling rose in my gut at the thought she probably wasn’t the one. If she was just some female who avoided my eyes and shied away from me like everyone else, I didn’t even know what I’d do. Could I just go back to my lands sprawling in the hot, humid jungle and wait for my days to be over?
No. I won’t go home, I decided suddenly, the thought emerging from the storm raging within me. If she’s not the one, I’ll climb up to the roof of the temple and jump.
Because that, at least, was better than slaughtering anyone who came close and then finally being put down like a rabid animal.
That was not a death fit for the last of my race on Alia Terra. I’d go like the proud creature I was. On my terms.
“This is your door,” the priestess said, looking at my feet as she pointed out a wide, tall set of black doors with gilded fittings. “She’s waiting for you there. I’ll be back shortly.”
She turned and hurried away before I had time to acknowledge her words. My fury reached a sizzling hot temperature, my fingers curling with the need to shred, my jaw tingling with the urge to open wide and bite. My protective eyelids itched with the need to lower them.
I stopped in front of the door, tensing my entire body in a hopeless bid for control, but it was for nothing. A deep, warning hiss built in my chest, a sound meant to let my enemies know they should back away—or be dinner.
My instincts raged even though I was alone in the corridor. There was no one to attack save for the human bride waiting for me behind the thick doors. I tried to hear her heartbeat through the painted wood, hoping it might calm me, but there was only silence.
With a hiss of rage, I clawed down the hard surface, leaving deep gauges in the door. Instead of letting some of my fury out, this only made me angrier. I wanted my claws to shear through flesh, not inanimate matter.
Red mist danced over my vision, the pressure growing unbearable. With a pang of true fear I realized this was it. This was when the beast finally won.
I had no hope of controlling myself. The only thing that could calm my fury was my mate’s scent and touch, but how could I be sure my bride was really the one?
If I walked in and she proved to be just a human woman, not the mate my instincts sought, I’d tear her into pieces. And yet, she was also my only chance to stop the impending killing spree. Because if I walked away now, I’d kill everyone in the atrium. I would slaughter with my claws and murder with my eyes until no one was left.
With rage boiling in my veins like liquid fire, I made my choice. I opened the door and walked in.