The blood flow from there has stopped. Oh Fates, is he already dead? Am I too late?
“Yeah, a sacrifice,” says Zuma. “That’s why he’s chained to the altar. But he still needs to perform to get Zahara knocked up. Hell, with what he’s carrying in his pants, he could knock us all up with one blow.”
Zuma’s fingers lift the waistband of Viri’s pants. That is the last straw for me. Hell no is that bitch eying my man’s package.
I break free of Pia’s hold, no longer willing to think over my next steps. I am pure rage and aggression. But before I can get to Itzel or Zuma, the entire cave shakes.
Rocks rain down over everyone gathered inside. Three figures appear at the cave’s entrance. With the shifters’ gazes focused on the newcomers, I make my way to Viri on the altar.
Chapter 28
Virius
The darkness all around is deep, absolute. Not a shard of light is present in this new existence.
Nor is there any movement. My body is paralyzed, both inside and out.
I can’t feel my toes or fingers. I can’t part my lips to speak. I can’t peel my eyes open to see. Even my ears seem closed off to any sounds.
My chest lies still. I have no heartbeat. Fitting, as I am drained dry. There is nothing inside of me that needs to move around.
Not blood. Not air.
I am dead.
I don’t like that thought. I don’t want to be dead. Not yet. There is something I must do before I die.
With that thought, I feel a twitch. Just a tiny stirring down below. Barely a blip on the radar of what’s left of my consciousness. It’s enough to warrant notice.
I can’t lift my head to see what is touching me. I couldn’t open my eyes even if I were able to. I can’t defend myself if I have to.
The stirring becomes movement. Still only a slight shifting. But there is definitely something perched on my skin. My upper leg, I think?
Whatever the creature is, it leaves behind a wet trail on my cool skin as it progresses onward. Perhaps it’s a worm?
No, not a worm. I’m starting to perceive girth as I differentiate its heat from my balmy flesh. Maybe a snake?
But no. It’s not a snake. I can’t perceive any scales as it continues to writhe on me.
The movements are definitely snake-like. Not a garden variety snake. Much more like…
Like an anaconda.
Awareness flashes at me in the darkness. A tiny pinpoint of light.
“Frankie?”
My words are not spoken out loud. They’re said in my head. They’re spoken in her voice.
Zahara called my cock Frankie on more than one occasion. I remember now. She thought I would put Frankie into another woman. Her wee claws had come out at the possibility. Fire had flashed in her cat eyes.
That light flashes in my mind now. I can’t make out her features. But I know she is that light.
Down below, Frankie pulses again, as though he knows the light in my mind is the only woman he has ever craved. The only woman who has ever brought us both any pleasure. The woman who brought me and my dick together in the same body.
I wasn’t able to get it up for two centuries. Not until Zahara came close and shone her bright light upon me.
But if Frankie is getting hard, maybe she is around?
As if in answer, my cock pulses again. It’s only a light pulse, likely because there’s barely a drop of blood in me. And anything I have is being diverted down south.
I’m going to need some of that blood diverted back up top. I need to think. If she is nearby, I need to get to her. I need a plan.
If only Gaius were here. He is the thinker in the family.
“If my brother is dead, I’m going to have myself a new jaguar coat.”
The threat is said in Gaius’s cultured voice, though it’s gruffer than I’ve heard in decades. It harkens back to his street thug days.
“Gaius, that is really culturally insensitive; threatening to take the—well, fur—of a Native American shape-shifter. Or, wait? Is it Amerindian ? Or maybe American Natives? I don’t think we learned about indigenous people further south than Mexico in school?”
That’s Cari’s voice. For the short time that she’s been in our family, she’s been trying to help me with my clothing. Apparently, sometimes the way I dress is offensive to others.
“My apologies if I was offensive in threatening to do bodily harm to the elderly female jaguar shifter who staked and bled my brother to a painful, gruesome, and bloody death. Is that polite enough for you?”
“Well,” says Cari in the patient voice she uses with me when I’ve gotten something wrong, “you didn’t need to bring up her age.”
“Shut it, both of you! I don’t have time to deal with your colonizer-guilt.”
Zahara’s voice washes over me like sunlight. She sounds closer than the others. She sounds like she is a star just over my head. I want to reach out and touch her.
“Not a colonist,” huffs Gaius, his cultured Italian firmly back in place.
“Second-generation French-American,” mumbles Cari, with a soft lilt to her words.
There’s a part of me that wants to point a finger at their flubs. Usually, I’m the one saying the wrong thing and causing discomfort to others. Unfortunately, I still can’t lift a hand or open my mouth.
“Viri, can you hear me?” says Zahara.
Words bubble in my throat with no way to escape.
I try to part my lips. They don’t budge.
I try to open my eyes. The lids are heavier than boulders.
I try to lift my hands towards her, but even if I could move, I’m not sure where to reach. The darkness cloaks me. Its cold tendrils snake under me. They close around me, like a mighty anaconda readying to suck the life out of me.
“Viri, I need you to open your eyes.”
I want to. Fates, do I want
