Chapter Two
Slowly, I tilt my chin down and stare at my feet.
If I had any choice in the matter, I’d leave right now. But the reality is, I don’t have any cell service to speak of. There’s no way I could make it down the mountain in the rain, and my ride isn’t coming back until next week.
So, in the absence of choice, I’m forced to figure out whatever the hell is underneath the cabin—and what the hell I’m going to do about it.
I’m just going to suck it up, and I grab a butter knife from the kitchen drawer. Even though I’m a city girl at heart, how scary could the reality of this sound be?
I kneel and push the blunt blade under a floorboard that looks particularly loose—because the idea of going outside right now to crawl around under the cabin doesn’t sound like an option I want to even consider.
And besides, if it is something scary, I can just put the board back down and crawl under the covers until the cab gets back, right? I mean, at least I can wait until the sun comes up again… right?
As the board gives way, I hear what sounds like a weak grunt… like it came from an injured animal.
My adrenaline surges for an entirely different reason. What if something needs my help?
I push the now-loose plank to the side, grab my phone, and turn on the flashlight.
At first, I don’t see anything—just dirt, dust, and cobwebs shifting in the beam. But when the noise comes again, I catch it: a glinting flash of green scales. Something big and smooth flexes and slithers beneath the cabin floor.
It’s too large to be a snake, at least any kind that I can think of would be native to this part of the world.
My suspicions are confirmed when the owner of those scales drifts past my peephole into the crawlspace. As if a snake’s tail has been spliced with a verdant, scale-covered human torso, what’s taken up residence under my new house finally reveals himself.
The naga shifts his shoulders, wiggling in obvious discomfort, until his face comes into view. His eyes are squeezed shut, his expression tight with pain as he moves.
Despite that, he’s fucking stunning. The monster-man looks like he was carved—patiently, lovingly—from a solid block of emerald.
I've never seen a naga myself. They're much rarer than your run-of-the-mill minotaur or mothman. In fact, I'm pretty sure that most take up residence in temples. They seem to have something of a cult following.
Seeing a naga under my cabin almost feels like seeing a teacher outside of school—it just feels wrong.
“Um… are you okay?” I manage to sputter out, glad that I don't have a fear of snakes.
He snaps open his amber eyes, as if realizing for the first time that someone’s watching him. Which is strange, because I’m fairly certain nagas are known for their heightened senses.
“No,” he gets out, barely above a whisper, his forked tongue lapping at the single word. The green god’s hand shakes at his side as he tries to reach up toward me—but doesn’t get anywhere close.
“Oh—um, okay.” I take a deep breath and bite my bottom lip. “How can I help you?”
He blinks rapidly, like he’s shocked I would even offer, before sticking to those one-word answers.
“Cold.”
Right. I wouldn’t expect something cold-blooded in this unseasonably cool, wet environment. So even though I don’t know what he’s doing here—or how he decided hiding under my floorboards was a good idea—I start piecing together a plan. I’m not a dick. I can’t just let someone suffer.
“Do you think you could get out from under there? I just started a fire, and I’ve got some tea going. You’ll be a lot warmer up here.”
He doesn't answer me right away, but instead just stares at me with those amber eyes. His brow is furrowed, like he's trying to decide if I'm a hallucination or just stupid.
Which, sure, that's fair, I guess.
"I won't…" His voice is sandpaper rough, scraping from somewhere deep inside his muscular chest. "Hurt."
"Yeah, that is very much what I prefer," I huff out, my nerves strung tight.
Neither of us moves, and the only thing that snaps me back to reality is the pitter patter of the soft drops of cool rain leaking through my roof.
When I move to wipe the water off the back of my neck, he shifts.
Slowly at first, the green coils of his body slide against the dirt of the crawlspace. He winces as he moves, breath hitching.
"Hey, stop if it hurts," I order, pushing my face closer into the gap in the floorboards. "You don't have anything to prove."
His gaze flicks to mine. And every dagger he shoots with his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He's stubborn and proud.
Great, that always makes for an easy patient.
"I can manage," he says through gritted teeth.
"Sure…" I say under my breath, not believing him for a second.
I spend a moment watching him struggle before I do exactly what I told myself I wasn't going to.
"I'm coming down there, don't make this weird," I yell as I grab the thick wool blanket I threw off the bed earlier. I tuck my feet back into my hiking boots and stomp out into the night.
I quickly find the opening where he pushed his way under the cabin—there's deep gouge in the mud. I drop to my knees and crawl, following his trail.
"Totally smart move, on your hands and knees in the mud into the crawlspace to help a giant snake man…totally normal Monday night," I mutter sarcastically.
But as I slide past the foundation walls and my eyes adjust to the dim light, my breath hitches as I take in the sight before me. The naga is big, so big it seems comical that he wedged his way under the tiny cabin.
His green scales are slicked with mud, the taper of his tail's tip expands into a broad, muscular tube that connects to his hips.
His chest is basically a human one, albeit carved from stone and scale covered.
The naga's neck is long and almost graceful.
It supports his head, and honestly, despite his grimace of pain, he looks like a green K-pop idol.
The half-up man bun and delicate gold earrings that line his pointed ears only cement the comparison to an ethereal pop star.
The ground is cold and wet beneath me as I sit back on my heels, hunching in the short space. It smells like wet earth and wood.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you managed to fit in here…" I whisper, wrinkling my nose.
His slitted eyes watch me suspiciously, which is fair—I guess.
"Hi," I say, because it feels right in the moment. "My name is Sloane, what's yours?"
His demeanor doesn't become any less tense.
"I'm really just trying to help you. I'm not even sure why you thought coming under here would be a good idea—"
"Cold, warmer under here," he grits out.
I suppose the fire does make it a bit warmer down here.
For the first time, I notice his hand covering a swatch of the scales along his hip. Both the edges of his palm and the flesh underneath are rimmed with something dried and dark.
"Oh."
He's not just cold, he's injured.
"You're hurt."
His jaw tightens, like he hates the fact that I'm pointing it out.
"What happened?" I lean closer carefully.
"A trap," he offers.
"That's fucked up—hate that for you," I sigh. I don't understand why anyone would want to trap a naga, and I'm not sure I want to get into the details of why. Right now, I just need this K-pop monster out from under what was supposed to be my sculpture retreat.
I glance at the pulled-up floorboard. In flows the faint light from the fireplace and the promise of warmth, just out of his reach.
"Alright, whatever your name is, let's get you upstairs and warm—then on your way." I switch to a firmer tone. "Because you're not dying under my cabin…do you understand?"
He shifts again, tail jolting as the muscles near his wound tense. "Can't move far…"
"Okay, well, let's do this slow…in steps. Step one, we get you warmer." I reach for the blanket tucked under my arm and throw it around his shoulders, gathering it in the best I can around the awkward shape of his half human, half snake body.
He stills at the contact but doesn't pull away.
"I'm going to try and help you out from under here. Then we can have some tea and sit by the fire until you feel okay."
"My name is Bahtam," he mutters.
It's a lovely name, especially how his forked tongue slips ever so slightly out of his lips, accenting the T in a way I don't think my own could.
"Okay, hey Bahtam, let's do this." I touch his hand, trying to reassure him we'll get him out of this situation.
And that might have been a mistake.
Bahtam sucks in a deep breath and grabs my wrist, pulling my chest tightly against his own before wrapping his arms around my back.
"Warm," he sighs as he presses as much of my skin against his as he can. He nuzzles his chin in the crown of my hair.
"Oh!" I yelp, struggling in vain against his strong grasp. The scales of his body are like ice pressing against my skin. I keep still, thinking of how boa constrictors only tighten their grasp when their prey struggles.
Prey…is that what I am?
"Hey, if you squeeze me any tighter, I'm not going to be able to breathe," I joke, hoping that it's not his intention.
He stills and pulls back his head, some clarity flashing behind his snakelike eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, grip loosening.
“Um, it's okay…but it serves the point that we need to get you upstairs—like ASAP." I slip out of his loosened arms, ducking my head under his arms and letting my hands fall into the mud.
With a squish into the soft ground, I sit back on my heels and get my gumption about me.
"I'm going to touch you again, but I need you to keep your chill, okay?"
He nods, and I gently slide my dirty hands up under his forearms. His body reacts, even though he keeps his hands to himself. I swear I can hear the shifting of his scales as the shiver runs through Bahtam.
"I'm gonna need your help, but between the two of us, we can get you upstairs…" I glance at him, his gaze is laser focused on my mouth as I speak. "Right?"
"I will try," he mutters, eyes still locked on my lips.