At the sensation, I want to curl my toes.
Oh.
My.
God.
That was the most intimate thing I've ever experienced.
Yes, sorry. I'm still a virgin.
Shoot me for it.
This time, the heat pools in my stomach.
And drifts lower.
My face burns again, and I suck in a sharp breath.
I try to pull my hand away, but he holds it firmly. Not painful — just unyielding. And he takes his time with every single finger.
A moan crawls up my throat and I clamp my teeth together. But from his expression, I know he notices.
When he finally releases my hand, I press the back of it against my mouth and look away, mortified.
I just want to leave.
But this time, for an entirely different reason.
"More," he says.
So commanding that my knees go weak.
"I'll bring more next time," I say, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.
"You already want to leave me?" His voice sounds more amused than disappointed ... or angry.
"Now that you appeared so suddenly."
He reaches for one of my strands of hair, rubbing it between his fingers. He leans in, inhaling slowly, as if committing it to memory.
Once again, words fail me. What is wrong with this man?
I lift my hands, trying to push him back a little.
Of course, it doesn't work.
Instead, my palms end up resting against his chest. Solid muscle beneath my fingers.
Again, the image of carved statues flashes through my mind.
As if burned, I yank my hands back.
"But I can disappear just as suddenly," I stammer. "So you should really let me go."
He tilts his head.
"And if I don't?" His tail tightens slightly. Not painful but noticeable.
This time, I let out a dry laugh.
"Whatever brings me here doesn't care what you want. Or what I want. It just… happens."
"Then how do I know you'll come back?"
"Why would you ask that?" Desperately, I pinch the bridge of my nose.
"Because you're my female."
My eyes fly open. "I'm your what? How do you even get that idea?"
He smiles, slow and confident, and for a moment it feels like the world holds its breath. Torchlight dances over him, turning him into something mythic. Almost godlike.
"I found you," he says, utterly certain.
Then, softer: "And you fed me."
Internally, I groan.
Apparently, interspecies etiquette was not my strong suit.
"I was trying to stop you from eating me! I couldn't know that where you come from, that counts as a marriage proposal."
"A marriage proposal?" He lifts one of his perfect eyebrows.
"That's what we do before choosing a partner."
"Ah. Courtship."
"Yes, but that's not how it works. Something like that has to be mutual."
"You don't want me as your partner?"
His tail loosens slightly.
He looks genuinely shaken.
"I am the perfect partner," he says, gesturing down at himself.
He says it like a fact.
Like I'm supposed to agree.
And suddenly I feel like I'm at a flea market, being talked into buying something by a shady vendor — just because I looked at it for two seconds.
I take a slow breath in. Then out.
"Okay. Listen. I don't doubt that you're a very… formidable man...uh, male."
"Nevertheless, we've known each other for maybe ten minutes. And I'm human, and you're a… a..."
"Nagi," he supplies.
"A Nagi. Who knows if we're even compatible?"
What scares me most is that part of me that wants to know.
Suddenly, his tail tightens and he pulls me closer with it. His hands close around my upper arms. His face is far too close. I freeze, letting it happen.
"Then let's find out," he murmurs...
...and presses his lips to mine.
They're hot and soft and taste like secrets. My lips part in surprise — really, because I want to protest. But he takes it as an invitation. His tongue darts forward, brushing my lips.
My eyes, which had closed from sheer sensory overload, fly open again.
He has a split tongue.
Okay.
This has officially gone too far.
My hands — somehow already back on his chest — push him away.
He allows it.
His eyes flash.
"Stop. This doesn't work like that. You can't just do something like this without asking me."
His lips twitch, and my mind replays the moment they were on mine on an endless loop.
"Didn't you like it?"
"No. I—I… that's not the point." I glare at him, angry. "I wanted to decide for myself who gets my first kiss."
The words hang in the air.
Wait. Did I really just say that out loud?
Earth, open up and swallow me.
"Your first?" He pushes me back another step and studies me from head to toe.
His gaze burns a slow path over my skin.
I start to fidget, embarrassed.
Great. Now he probably thinks there's something wrong with me.
So what? Why does that even matter?
I'm fighting inside my head with myself.
"How old are you?" he asks suddenly.
"Twenty."
Without warning, his tail loosens completely, and suddenly I'm standing on my own feet again.
"You're still a hatchling!" he groans, rubbing a hand over his face.
I stare at him, confused. "A hatchling? How old are you?"
Why did that even matter? This whole situation is getting more and more absurd. It should be a good thing if I'm suddenly not a desirable sexual partner anymore.
And yet something inside me wants to correct that.
Wants him to know that I am desirable.
Because I've never felt like this before.
I should be relieved.
And yet part of me rebels — wants to be seen, chosen, wanted.
Even though I know how wrong that thought is. I hate that part of me for speaking up now.
Standing in front of me is a monster from the Labyrinth. A monster I've never even heard of.
"Two hundred and thirty-seven," he sighs. He said it, like it's nothing.
"Shit," I blurt out.
Now he's the one looking confused.
"We don't even live that long," I add. "I can assure you, I'm more than fully grown."
"Are you?" He studies me again. "I didn't notice at first, but you're very small."
I groan in frustration. Even in the Labyrinth, I'm being judged for my height.
"That's a perfectly reasonable size for a human woman."
I'm just about to launch into a lecture about average heights when I feel it.
The tremor in my stomach.
I fall silent and look at him.
"Oh. It's time."
The last thing I see is him reaching out for me.
Then I'm standing in front of the buffet again.
It looks noticeably more plundered than before.
For a moment, I do nothing but try to pull myself together. I stand completely still while sounds wash over me like waves.
Clinking dishes.
Laughter.
Footsteps.
The ring of a phone.
People move around me as if I'm not even there.
All at once, my entire life feels surreal.
Like I'm a badly rendered background character in my own life. As if it isn't real.
Shaking, I draw in a deep breath and notice the strength leaving my fingers. Hastily, I set my plate down on the buffet table.
"Hey, there you are," Jaxon says.
Grateful for the distraction, I turn toward him and beam. He freezes mid-motion. After a delayed moment, he continues speaking.
"I suddenly couldn't see you anymore. But there are so many people here ... it's easy to lose sight of each other."
I realize then that some of the people drifting through the room aren't applicants anymore.
They're Hunters. Here to spark curiosity among the applicants and answer their questions.
"This is Tommy." He gestures toward a lanky boy with short, bright red hair, wearing a suit that's slightly too big. Tommy lifts a hand briefly.
"Hi."
"Hi," I reply as well, smiling back at him—though not nearly as enthusiastically as before.
I clear my throat and force myself to speak. To explain.
That I was simply here. That I ate. That I looked around. Nothing more.
As I talk, it feels like I'm listening to myself. Like I'm watching the words from the outside and immediately seeing how thin they are. Technically, none of it is a lie. And yet it feels like I'm saying the biggest nonsense I've ever let pass my lips.
My stomach tightens. Not from hunger. But from that unpleasant feeling you get when you know you're leaving out something crucial. Something that would change everything if you said it out loud.
I was here.
I ate.
And I experienced something I can't explain to anyone.
But they accept my explanation without question.
And, thankfully, they soon drift into a conversation about Hunter rankings.
About F-, E-, and D-classes. About promotions, statistics, and official classifications. I'm glad I only have to stand there and listen with half an ear.
All this categorization only makes sense as long as you believe the Labyrinth is already understood.
How are you supposed to divide strength into classes when you have no idea what's still coming? When no one knows how many levels there really are. What kinds of monsters are still waiting down there. Whether what we've seen so far is only the beginning.
I'm certain that I know there's far more out there than humanity believes.
My thoughts keep drifting back to what just happened.
My thoughts keep drifting back to what just happened.
And I know how dangerous that is. Because the mind-reading agent absolutely must not know ...
"What shouldn't I know?"