Page 42 of Split or Swallow

For the next three nights, Tem sat on the mat, stroked Caspen’s cock until he came, then ate her food alone. Caspen didn’t give the claw back; he didn’t talk to her. He didn’t even look her in the eye. The meetings were so impersonal that Tem couldn’t help but wonder if this was how they were for the other girls and their basilisks. Would this have been what happened if she hadn’t asked him to undress the first night they met? Was this what it was like to have no connection to the person she was touching? She didn’t know how long it would go on this way. All she knew was that she hated it.

Things were no better during the daytime. Tem spent every waking hour doing farm work or running errands, anything to keep her mind off Caspen’s unbearable indifference. Her visits to the bakery were nothing short of agony. Vera’s cruelty knew no bounds: she’d taken Tem’s low podium ranking as permission to return to her preferred method of torture, which was finding every opportunity to disparage the fact that Tem was a chicken farmer. Her taunts were rudimentary, but effective. Tem weathered them in silence, delivering the eggs to the bakery and receiving her payment without saying a word. Vera clearly thought Tem was unworthy in every single way. Tem almost agreed with her.

Even her home was no longer a sanctuary. Her mother hovered nervously, watching Tem’s every move as if she knew the training wasn’t going well. Gabriel was no help either. He was sequestered away in the castle, working long hours in the kitchens to accommodate all the extra guests. Tem hated going to the Horseman alone, and even when she braved it, Vera was always there, ready with a fresh wave of taunts.

On the fourth night, Tem decided she’d had enough.

She went to the cave, like she always did. She sat on the mat, like she always did. But the moment Caspen went to untie his trousers, Tem spoke abruptly:

“I’m not doing that again.”

Caspen blinked. She took advantage of his surprise, crossing her arms and continuing:

“You came in less than a minute last time. I’d say I’ve mastered that particular exercise, wouldn’t you?”

It was meant to dig at him in more ways than one. Despite his obvious attempts to distance himself from her, there was no denying the hold she had on him. It was almost too easy getting him to come. All it took was for Tem to sit a little too close, to let her breath skim over his shoulder, and Caspen couldn’t resist his climax. She savored the feeling, knowing it was her one advantage in their silent battle of wills. But she was done being silent.

Caspen’s eyes narrowed. Finally, he looked at her. It felt like an eternity since she’d stared into his golden irises. She used the opportunity to lean in, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m. Not. Doing. That. Again.”

There was a moment of silence, and in it, Tem could almost see the two sides of him fighting with each other: one side that wanted to keep her at arm’s length, and the other that couldn’t resist her. Tem wanted him to give in. But the only way to win was to do the exact thing he thought she couldn’t do: be patient. So she sat there, silently, and waited.

Finally, just like she knew he would, Caspen gave in.

“What would you like to do instead, Tem?”

Tem knew what he expected her to say. But she didn’t want to have sex—at least, not tonight. Instead, she said:

“I want to talk.”

Caspen blinked again.

“About what?”

That was easy.

“You.”

Now he looked surprised. He tilted his head in that reptilian way of his, assessing her with uncanny intelligence.

“In that case,” he said slowly. “What do you wish to know?”

She would have to be careful with her first question. She didn’t want to scare him off or make him regret talking to her. She would start small, and build from there.

“Do you have any siblings?”

If he had looked surprised before, now he looked downright confused. It was a ridiculous question—she didn’t even care about the answer. But it was meant to disarm him, and by the expression on his face, it did just that.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“How many?”

He shifted, as if considering standing up and leaving. Instead he stayed where he was, his eyes still on hers as he answered:

“Four.”

“What are their names?”