Split or Swallow (Split or Swallow, #1)

by Lindsay Straube

every time the world seemed too large, she knew she could end the day alone in her bed.

When she finally slept, she dreamed of fire. It didn’t burn her. Rather, it warmed her gently, from the tips of her toes to the base of her skull. The fire felt familiar, somehow, as if it were sent by someone she had known a long time ago. Flames licked her fingers, her palms, her arms. A single breath brushed her cheek. Then it was over.

She was no coward; she would not run. She had come here to make her mother proud, and more importantly, to make herself proud. She may not care about the prince, but she did care about a life beyond the chicken coop. She owed it to herself to find it.

Fourteen caves. Fourteen basilisks. It was no use. She closed her eyes. The second she did so, something came to her, unbidden. The sensation was like a light in the darkness, calling to her. She moved to follow it, walking toward the farthest cave, feeling a shadow of what she had felt in the dream—a soothing warmth that drew her in. She knew, somehow, that she was heading in the right direction.

The real thing looked like the most searingly attractive man Tem had ever seen. He was an amalgamation of every feature she’d ever found beautiful—so much so that Tem wondered briefly whether it was on purpose. Basilisks were known for their powers of seduction, after all. Had he tailored himself to look like this, knowing it would appeal to her? He was tall—so much taller than her—with broad, proud shoulders and rigid posture. The firelight flickering over his face only accentuated his features, which were a mesmerizing sculpture of sharp, unforgiving angles that made him seem like he was carved from stone. His dark hair was cut shorter than the current style, but somehow it suited him. He was wearing a light linen shirt and trousers, both of which did absolutely nothing to hide the hard outline of his body. Warmth. It was all she felt.

“Do you consider me an incapable teacher?” the snake asked. “I don’t know the first thing about you.” Caspen smiled a little at that. Something inside her untangled. “The princes have chosen my students for generations. Rest assured I will not allow you to fail.”

Perhaps she wasn’t desperate in the way the other girls were—perhaps she did⁠n’t crave the crown as Vera did—but she was desperate to be here, in her own way. She wanted nothing more than to know what all the fuss was about—to touch a man and to have him touch her—to desire and be desired.

“All journeys begin with a step, Tem.” She still didn’t move. Her mother’s voice was beating through her brain: You will do as he says, and try to learn something. But Tem wasn’t accustomed to following orders. It went against every instinct in her body—it violated everything about who she was as a person. She couldn’t just blindly obey him. She wasn’t built that way. She never had been. So she said: “You first.”

He looked down at her calmly, as if this entire process was of no concern to him. And she supposed it wasn’t. He’d seen dozens of girls before her, and would see hundreds after. This was a duty for him—nothing more. For Tem, it was everything.

Suddenly she understood his reputation as the Serpent King. Everything she’d ever heard about Caspen made sense now that she was seeing this final part of him. The way the villagers spoke of him in hushed tones—the way his girls were always chosen by the prince—all of it justified by what was between his legs. Why should he submit to anyone when he was superior in this most fundamental way? Why cede his power when his was so much greater?

Tem knew she wasn’t the first girl to be naked in this cave. She knew she wasn’t special, that there was nothing she could offer Caspen that he hadn’t seen before. Still, it felt as if this experience was unique to them, like he’d never looked at another girl this way, like she was the only one he would ever do this for. She wondered if it was true. She dearly hoped it was.

was thrilling to see the way he touched himself. To know he was doing it because of her was beyond euphoric. She wished she could run her hands over him. She wanted to feel him against her palms, to understand who he truly was, to touch everything he was letting her see.

Tem wondered if he would think of her the next time he did this. Would he picture her, like she would surely picture him? Would he wish it was her hand instead of his, rubbing up and down, servicing him, encouraging what grew n⁠a⁠t⁠u⁠r⁠a⁠l⁠l⁠y? Or would he imagine her doing other things, like kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth, consuming him like she wanted him to consume her? She wished she could taste him. She wondered if he would ever let her.

Tem wished she could kiss him. Instead she held his gaze, trying to read his mind. What did he think of her? Was he pleased? Did this solidify their bond, or was she nothing but a stupid child to him, no different than the dozens of other girls who had come to his cave? Surely he wasn’t thinking the same thing as her—that she had never felt a connection with anyone like this, that they had something special, something significant.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Then it is like you.” The words were a breath. She barely heard them. But he had said them, and Tem knew she would never forget the first time a man had called her beautiful.

“Do not tell anyone you have it. And do not show it to anyone. It is for you, and only you.” He stared at her with an intensity she didn’t understand. She could only nod; his gaze was too strong. She looked down at the claw. “What will it be like?” she whispered. “Warm,” he said. “It is the exact temperature of my human form.” Tem nodded. “It will feel good,” he continued. “I will make sure of it.” “How?” “Like I said, it will connect us. I can make it…pulse.” “Pulse?” He smiled, and she melted. “When it pulses, you will know I am thinking of you.”

“Will you think of me?” Tem whispered. Caspen didn’t turn. She stared at his shoulders, broad and strong in the dark. His silence was absolute; she could hear nothing but the rustlings of the forest around them, overlaid by the pounding of her own heart. He stood there for so long she wondered if he had even heard her. Finally, he said: “I told you I would.” “I know. I just…” Tem paused, crossing her arms and taking a deep breath before finishing: “I wanted to hear it again.”

Instead, an aching pulse shot suddenly between her legs. It passed through her so sharply that she gasped, doubling over in surprise, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it. She had to cry out; the sensation was too strong. She had never felt anything so good—it eclipsed every sensation she had ever given herself—it made her entire insides unfold in a spiral of petals—like she had become one with the moon and the stars. Tem could barely keep her balance as the pulse intensified, forcing her to her knees. She curled into herself, her fists gripping the grass. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. She felt nothing but the most profound pleasure of her life. Tem knew in that moment without a shadow of a doubt that she was alive. Then it was over.

It was halfway through the service when the first pulse came. Before Tem had a chance to catch her breath, a second one quickly followed. But this couldn’t be happening right now. Not now, not next to her mother, not in church. Sitting still was impossible. Tem clutched the pew with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to control her breathing. Another pulse came, and Tem let out the tiniest whimper. Do not make a sound. Tem froze. The voice was Caspen’s, and it had come from inside her mind. But how was that possible? Before she could wonder further, another pulse came, this one so strong that Tem had to grab the pew in front of her to keep from crying out.

look away. The pulses seemed to sense her arousal, somehow syncing to the motion of Vera’s arm. They were purposeful now; Tem had no doubt that Caspen was thinking of her, and he must know she was thinking of him. The pulses were building, building, building—even as the rest of the church started to sing a hymn, Tem couldn’t join in. All she could do was stare at Vera’s arm pumping up and down, imagining it was her arm instead, imagining it was Caspen’s cock instead of Jonathan’s. Tem clamped her mouth shut as the final pulse came. But it was impossible not to cry out. The hymn had reached a crescendo, and so had Tem,

What he was doing felt so good she couldn’t think straight—it was as if someone had poured honey into her brain, and all she could taste was sweetness. It felt as if every molecule in her body was on fire—like he was stirring the edges of her into a singular, perfect shape. It was different from the pulses, which were cerebral—reverberating and lingering in her body like electrical surges. His fingers, on the other hand, were undeniably physical, forcing her to stay in the present and experience exactly what was happening. Now that Caspen was touching her, Tem felt suddenly jealous that anyone else had shared this experience with him. She wanted to ground him in this moment—to remind him that it was her that he was touching, and nobody else.

It was intoxicating to be this close to him—so close she could smell the smoke on his skin. But it wasn’t like the smoke that curled from the pipes dangling from the mouths of drunk patrons at the Horseman. It smelled like the wildfires that sometimes burned the forest during summer—like the smoke that lingered on clothing after spending time around a campfire. It was deep and rich and layered, and Tem felt as if she were drowning in the smell.

Immediately, Caspen grabbed her by the chin, pulling her face up to his. His pupils were so wide they eclipsed the rest of his irises, reducing them to thin rings of gold. The effect was mesmerizing; Tem couldn’t have looked away even if she’d tried. It was as if his eyes had opened up a portal between them—as if they were pulling her in with a magnetic force she didn’t have the power to resist. She withdrew her hand, suddenly terrified.

There was nothing to say, so neither of them spoke. But Tem felt an overwhelming understanding sweep over her like a tidal wave. In it, she felt Caspen’s satisfaction as if it were her own. His approval was undeniable; he was looking at her like he wanted to devour her, like she was the single most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Do you find me boring?” she asked before she could help it. To her surprise, Caspen let out another low chuckle. “Not in the least.” Her heart leaped. “But you must have met a thousand people in your lifetime.” “Far more than a thousand.” His words hung in the air, their meaning ambiguous. If he had met that many people in his lifetime and he didn’t find her boring, that must mean she had made some sort of impression on him—potentially a positive one. Was he saying he found her interesting?

The package was wrapped in black paper and tied with gold ribbon. Tem touched the ribbon first, running the tip of her finger gently over its length. When she pulled on the end, the knot unraveled easily, the paper falling open to reveal a shimmering pile of fabric. Tem held it up and saw it was a dress. Unlike the linen dress she had planned to borrow from her mother, this one was made of silk, no doubt like the one Vera had bragged about earlier. It was deep emerald in color, and Tem knew Caspen had chosen it to compliment her skin tone.

Something glinted on the bed, and Tem set the dress aside to see a gold necklace nestled in the paper. When she picked it up, she saw there was a small charm attached. It was deeply polished and shiny, glinting in the candlelight. With a gasp, she realized it was a claw—a perfect miniature of the one inside her. She stared at it in awe. Tem had never owned anything gold before. It was an expensive metal—a metal that Tem and mother could never afford—a luxury reserved only for the royals. Tem had only one piece of jewelry to her name, a dull silver ring she wore on holidays. The ring paled in comparison to the necklace. Tem immediately put it on.

She could feel Caspen’s pleasure, and it matched her own. There was something desperate about their connection tonight, and she wondered if it was because of what would happen later that evening. She lay gasping on the bed, trying to catch her breath, the gold chain tangled around her neck.

The ballroom was lined with thick marble columns, elaborately decorated with carvings of Kora. Like everything else in the castle, they were accented with gold. Tem couldn’t comprehend why such an excessive display of wealth was necessary. Everyone knew the royals were rich. But she had no idea the inside of the castle looked like this. She stared at the tables, loaded with food. She thought of the many nights in her cottage when she and her mother had gone to bed hungry. It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right.

Do not touch that. “Why?” Tem whispered aloud to the empty room, cradling her hand against her chest. It still throbbed with his energy. Because it does not belong to you. His voice was so angry she wanted to cry. Too late, Tem realized what she had been reaching for. Without warning, Caspen’s mind overtook hers, and she saw a horrible montage of war: basilisks against humans, battles fought deep within the caves, the eventual near-extinction of Caspen’s entire family. Tem felt devastation, and didn’t know whether it was his or hers. I’m so sorry, she thought, but Caspen was already gone. Her mind was empty, the claw suddenly cold. She stared at the skull numbly, wondering how humans could be so cruel. She couldn’t get the images out of her head—so much blood, so much death. Both sides had suffered, but it was clear the basilisks had sustained far greater losses. It was just like the painting she had seen downstairs.

His eyes lingered on the low cut of her dress, taking in the curves the clingy fabric had given her. The open hunger on the prince’s face was so different than anything she’d ever known from a man. Caspen’s desire for her was always masked—lurking just under the surface, hidden beneath a restrained facade of indifference. The prince’s face hid nothing, and Tem felt an odd thrill at the thought.

“You already know you’re beautiful, don’t you?” Tem had only been called beautiful once, by Caspen. And yet his word had made her believe it, so she answered honestly: “Yes.” “In that case, would you even care to hear it from me?” Again, she spoke the truth: “No.” The cruel smile slipped from his face. Definitely not used to being defied. “Then I won’t burden you with it.” “How considerate of you.”

Tem had gone her entire life without men liking her based on her looks. Why should the prince be any different? She’d probably be the first girl to go. But if she was eliminated tonight, her mother would never forgive her. Even worse, she’d never see Caspen again. She would have no excuse to go into the caves—no reason to see him. Without Caspen, Tem would probably die a virgin. She couldn’t be eliminated.

Tem didn’t step onto the last podium. She couldn’t. She could only stand in pure defiance, determined to wield the only power she had left. She looked Leo straight in the eye, refusing to look away even as the silence drew on. Everyone knew she was being trained by the Serpent King; everyone knew that meant she was supposed to be the best. To be ranked last was a complete and utter humiliation. Worse than that: it was a message. Leo wanted to punish her for rejecting him earlier. He wanted her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was in control. Message received.

“Something the matter, Temperance?” She walked right up to him, stopping only when they were a foot apart. “You ranked me last.” His mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “So I did.” “Care to tell me why?” “I didn’t think you’d notice.” “You might as well have called me ugly. Of course I noticed.” Leo leaned in. “You made it clear you don’t want me to call you beautiful. Why shouldn’t I call you ugly?” “Because it’s a lie.” Disbelief flashed across Leo’s face. Tem seized the moment, stepping closer. “And I’d prefer you didn’t lie to me, Leo. Plenty of people do that already.”

“Do you want me to be here?” Their faces were inches apart. Suddenly, the castle disappeared, and they were the only two people in existence. Tem saw Leo’s answer in his eyes—in the way his gaze traced hungrily down her neck to the golden claw that rested between her breasts. She saw his answer in the way his body angled itself to mirror hers, in the way his grip tightened on his whiskey glass, in the way his tongue brushed briefly over his lips as if it longed to taste hers. She saw his answer, but he said it anyway: “Yes.” Tem leaned back, once again putting distance between them. “Then act like it.”

Tem knew, without a doubt, that she was about to have her first kiss. For some reason, kissing seemed far more daunting than what they had already done. There was something simple about touching him, and him touching her back. But a kiss required connection—it required them to move in tandem, to establish a rhythm with each other and an intimacy that she’d never experienced with another person before. To kiss someone was to taste them, and to let them taste you. Tem couldn’t imagine a greater responsibility.

“Just take what I give you,” he breathed. “And when you are ready, give it back to me.” He waited until she nodded. Then he kissed her. When his lips pressed against hers, all Tem’s fears disappeared. So this was what it was like to be kissed. It felt like she’d finally found something she’d been missing—like everything that had been off-kilter her entire life was balanced at last. Caspen’s lips were soft and full, moving against hers more gently than she thought was possible. Tem let him guide her, following his lead as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Tem received it curiously, tracing it with hers, savoring the warm wetness before returning the favor.

He defined the boundaries of their relationship—if it even was a relationship. But Tem knew it was. She knew they had crossed a line somewhere, probably the first night they met, when she’d asked him to undress and she’d touched herself in front of him. She was not just his student, and he was not just her teacher. They were more than that. They had to be.

Tem pulled away. She felt suddenly exposed, like she’d revealed far too much of her heart to someone who didn’t care to see it.

“The prince will expect you to yield both your body and your mind. If you cannot give him both, there is no point in training you at all.” “Maybe I don’t want to yield my mind. Why should I?” Caspen didn’t answer. Tem propped herself up so their faces were an inch apart. “Why shouldn’t he yield?” she insisted. “Because he is the prince.” “So he can do whatever he wants?” “The royals make their own rules.” “That’s not fair.” “No. It is not.”

“You are not meant to be tamed, Tem.” What was he saying? That he didn’t think she had a chance with the prince? Tem bristled at the thought. If her own teacher didn’t believe in her, then he was right: there was no point in training her at all. Or was he saying that he didn’t want her to have a chance with the prince? That he wouldn’t change her, even if he could?

“Seems like a lot of rules to follow.” “Knowing you, you will not follow any of them.”

Caspen spoke next: “What is your last name?” “Verus.” He lifted his chin, considering her. “Temperance Verus,” he said quietly. She loved the way her name sounded in his mouth. “That’s me,” she said just as quietly. Eventually, Caspen relaxed.

Squeeze, little viper. Tem squeezed. She felt the cords of his throat contract beneath her palm, the hard line of his esophagus compressing between her fingers. What would happen if she kept squeezing? Would he let her? She was holding his life in her hand, just as he so often held hers. Tem recognized that this was a moment of trust between them—that she was meant to decide how it ended. When she released him, he released her too.

“Caspen,” she gasped. He raised his head so they were at eye level, his fingers slowing into a gentle caress. “You should not have doubted me.” She clung to him. It felt like her soul had been cracked open. “I hate that you have this much power over me.” To her surprise, he laughed. “What’s so funny?” His grin only widened. “Of the two of us, I am not the one with the power, Tem.”

Tem had no idea how to react to that. To believe that she had power over Caspen was to believe that she had influence over a centuries-old creature who could turn her to stone with a single glance. It wasn’t a fantasy she could afford to indulge. And yet, she knew their relationship had progressed far beyond the bounds of student and teacher. She shouldn’t even be here—the other girls had surely long since gone home, and she was still in her basilisk’s cave, naked, talking to him as if they were lovers. It was impossible. And yet, she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Lucky for you, I’m a merciful ruler,” she touched one of his shoulders and then the other, mimicking the motion for granting knighthood. He grabbed her wrist, kissing the freckles on the palm of her hand. “Lucky me indeed.”

He was a basilisk—the Serpent King—he wasn’t afraid of anything. Sex meant next to nothing to Caspen. But it meant everything to Tem. He had no idea what it was like to be her—to be fragile and human and vulnerable. This wasn’t something he could understand.

Then he smiled, and she knew what he was going to do. Still, it was an out of body experience to actually watch Caspen raise her hand, part his lips, and place her first two fingers gently in his mouth. She felt his tongue move between them, showing her exactly what he would do between her legs. When he was done, he kissed her fingertips. Then he smiled. “As I said. Heaven.”