Serpent's Bite: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (The Last Serpent Book 4) by Tansey Morgan

Author:Tansey Morgan [Morgan, Tansey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Supernal Publishing
Published: 2018-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Something is scratching in the walls. Behind the walls. Maybe the walls themselves are the ones making all that racket. Whatever it is, the noise is keeping the children awake. Children? No, not children—snakes. The snakes aren’t going to be able to sleep with all that noise going on, and if they don’t get their beauty sleep, they’re going to start biting people. I can’t let that happen.

They’re my serpents, I’m their queen, the last queen they’ll ever have, and I need to help them, protect them, care for them, or they’ll hurt people; maybe they’ll even hurt me. Maybe they’ll kill me.

Yes.

These serpents could be the death of me, and then what? No more I, no more they, and then one by one, everyone else will die, because they have to kill me first. If they don’t put me in the ground first, then they’ll never prove they can put the others in the ground for good. But they’ll come for me first, yes, they’ll find me, and they’ll kill me. Kill me. Kill me. That scratching noise will kill me.

I exploded into consciousness, heart pounding, breathing short and ragged, skin cold and covered in a thin film of sweat. I scrambled for my phone to check the time, three in the morning. The night was dark, and still. My window was frosted. Outside, I could see slight flecks of snow falling, touching the window and then dissolving into nothing.

I had been dreaming. I wasn’t sure exactly what the dream had been about, but it had been powerful enough to send me reeling into my own consciousness—something that didn’t happen often. I wasn’t the kind of person to put a lot of stock into dreams.

But there was something about the dream that stuck with me; scratching. In the dream I had heard a scratching sound, like nails on wood, almost the same sound I would often hear on the nights when I didn’t want to keep Morticia in my bedroom with me. She would paw and scratch at the door until the point of boredom, then go off and do something else. But Morticia wasn’t here, and as I turned to look at the door, I listened to that very same scratching sound I couldn’t explain, and dread crept into my already frightened heart.

I swallowed hard, swung my legs across the bed, and stood. Heart pounding now, I approached the door, wondering randomly if maybe the Alexandria had a cat somewhere that had gotten loose and, having taken a liking to me, had come to my door in the dead of night. Maybe that was exactly the sound that had not only infected my dreams and turned them into something unpleasant, but that had also woken me up from the very same dream in a cold sweat, my nerves shot to shit.

The scratching stopped when I got to within four or five steps of the door. I stopped too, and waited, listening, but the sound didn’t return. Swallowing

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