Bite the Bait

The maddening itch crawling up my legs was driving me insane.

The icecold snake scales creeping up from my upper thighs were about to break through the surface, and the suppressed, bloodthirsty craving was ripping my sanity to shreds.

I had been agonizing over where to find a truly irredeemable scumbag to use as a sacrifice.

But then my boyfriend, who usually acted like an obedient golden retriever, suddenly offered me a spiked glass of bourbon with a perfect smile.

Watching his face darken in an instant, my pupils dilated with thrill. I swallowed hard. Finally, a place to sink my fangs into. Are you ready to be eaten alive, darling?

Chapter 1 My hometown was a hidden sanctuary for serpent women. Every girl born to our bloodline came into this world with the head of a human and the body of a snake.

To maintain our human disguise, we had to return home every twenty years to shed our skin.

During the shedding, we were required to offer the ultimate corrupted soul to the ancient serpent god. We had to swallow the beating heart of a truly wicked man raw.

To guarantee a successful shedding, I had been drifting through a sea of men since coming of age, hunting for the perfect prey.

Over the years, I'd burned through seventeen boyfriends.

There were hypocritical Ivy League professors, crooked doctors pushing prescription pills, and those ruthless Wall Street suits who only cared about money.

But without exception, their villainy was just petty greed. None of them reached the level of pure, irredeemable evil I needed. Until I met Weston.

We swiped right on each other on Tinder. He was a nineteenyearold college jock who clung to me all day, calling me "baby." When I was bored, he'd teach me how to play video games.

I never took him seriously, treating him merely as a distraction when I needed space. After all, what kind of heinous crimes could a nineteenyearold kid commit?

That was, until he sent me a selfie. One look was all it took. I knew instantly he was the exact target I'd been hunting. I initiated the meetup.

Before heading out, I spent extra time getting ready, slipping into a dangerously sexy black slip dress.

It was this flawless skin that had kept all those big shots groveling at my feet. Too bad none of them were qualified to make the trip back to my hometown.

We met at a local movie theater. It was a backcountry slasher flick, and we took our seats in the very back row.

While the girls in the rows ahead watched the screen in terror, nervously clutching their boyfriends, I slid my hand onto Weston's thigh.

He caught my drift and turned his head to look at me. "Baby." I pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh.

Focus." He let out a soft hum, his eyes darkening with a misty haze as he stared at me. "Baby." It was a plea. And an invitation. I took the opening. "Be my boyfriend.

What do you say?" After the movie, we headed straight back to my apartment. His frantic kisses felt like he was trying to eat me alive.

Afterward, he pulled me tightly against his bare chest, his fingertips tracing slow, lazy circles down my spine. "Do you like me, baby?" Staring at the distinct villainous mole between his eyebrows, I flashed him a devastating smile. "I'm obsessed." Obsessed enough to send you straight to hell.

A week into dating him, I started to wonder if I had bagged the wrong prey. Weston was nineteen, a sophomore athlete, practically radiating sunshine.

Not only did he lack any toxic habits, but he was disgustingly sweet. He'd feed stray cats on the street and help old ladies cross the road.

If he had one flaw, it was that he was way too aggressive in bed for his age. A fierce but clingy puppy—dumping him actually felt like a waste.

Unfortunately, my twentieth birthday was closing in. Time was running out. I couldn't afford to waste any more energy on him.

That night, I took the lead, keeping him tangled in the sheets over and over again.

Once he was drained and stepped into the shower, I threw my clothes on in record time and headed for the door, ready to bolt.

My hand had barely grazed the icecold metal doorknob when a searing hot, muscular body pressed flush against my back.

His arm clamped around my waist like a vice. "Are you abandoning me, baby?" Cornered, I had no choice but to turn around and face him. "We're done.

You're too clingy, and I don't do clingy." Chapter 2 Weston froze, then frantically wrapped his arms around me.

Before he even made a sound, tears were already spilling down his face. "Baby, please don't leave me. Whatever you don't like, I can fix it." He looked up, his eyes glassy.

I felt nothing. I shoved him away, digging a wad of cash out of my purse and pressing it hard into his chest. "I don't do good boys.

Take this as severance pay." Weston bit his lip, staring at me with pathetic puppydog eyes. "Do we really have to end it? Can't you just stay one last night?

I promise, as soon as the sun comes up, I'll walk away." I caved. The next day, the stinging stench of gasoline and harsh jolting ripped me awake.

I was tossed in the back of a beatup Chevy pickup. My wrists were bound tight with rough industrial zip ties, and a greasesoaked rag was shoved into my mouth.

I let out a muffled grunt, startling Weston, who was sitting right beside me.

Last night, when he handed me that spiked drink, I had stared into his innocent eyes and swallowed it without a second thought. Then, everything went black.

I forced my eyes wide in terror, but beneath my ribs, my heart hammered with pure ecstasy. I hadn't picked the wrong prey after all.

No one with a mark of evil like that was ever a saint.

Weston shot me a dark look. "Behave, or I'll make you regret it." I shook my head and shrank back into the corner, playing the obedient victim.

Seeing me submit, he yanked the filthy rag out of my mouth. "Aren't you going to ask where I'm taking you?" I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the rattling metal frame. "If I ask, are you going to let me go?" He yanked me forward, dragging me flush against his chest.

A slow, sugary smile stretched across his mouth. "Baby, I really wanted to play house with you for a few more days. But you just had to ruin it.

Since you don't want to be my girl, you can go be Zeke's little bride." The heavily tattooed driver up front spat a thick wad of phlegm out the window and cranked his neck around. "Weston, you really planning on selling this prime piece of meat to Gideon's freak of a son?

She's way too pretty for a freak like Zeke. Ain't it a damn waste?" "You want her instead? Sure. If you can match Gideon's price, you can take her home yourself.

If not, shut your mouth and drive." The driver rubbed his nose, turning back to the wheel with a sneer. "Forget I said anything. Gideon owns half this mountain.

I can't compete with that." So he was selling me to a freak. Human trafficking—that definitely crossed the line into irredeemable evil.

The act of pricing women like livestock left a sickening, rotten stench of sin hanging thick in the air. Now, all I had to do was wait for him to complete the transaction.

Once his crime was set in stone, I could drag him back to my village. The corners of my mouth twitched, threatening to pull into a vicious grin.

To keep him from noticing, I kept my head bowed for the rest of the ride. The truck exited the highway and plunged deep into the mountains.

Massive, sunblocking pines loomed on both sides of the dirt road, suffocating the sky until it was nothing but a narrow sliver of gray.

The deeper we drove, the more brutal the terrain became, pitching the truck hard over the ruts and kicking up a thick, choking cloud of dust.

After five or six grueling hours, we hit the edge of a settlement. Spotting the approaching headlights, a few bulky men clutching metal pipes stepped out from the tree line.

Weston rolled down his window and leaned out. "It's me. Stand down." The guy in front, chewing on a grimy pipe, took a hard drag. "Well, if it ain't Weston.

What brings you back so sudden? Brought us some fresh meat?" The pack of men swarmed the truck, peering into the bed. Their filthy, hungry stares crawled all over my face.

I tucked my chin, shrinking back like a terrified lamb. Weston hopped out, exchanged a few backslapping words with the locals, and climbed back in.

Chapter 3 Weston dragged me into his family's rotting house.

His mother seized my hands, her eyes raking over my body as a wide, teethbaring smile stretched across her face. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Our Weston never misses.

Now we've finally secured a bride for the family." "Come on, sweetie, let's get you inside." Once we were deep inside the village, they finally cut the zip ties binding my wrists.

They weren't afraid of me running. Once you were dragged up this mountain, there was no way out. A woman chained to a rotting doghouse caught my eye.

A rusted iron chain, thick as a man's forearm, was padlocked around her throat. She was caked in layers of grime and filth.

Her torn pants hung crookedly from her hips, and every inch of exposed skin was painted in violent shades of purple and black. Catching my gaze, she didn't even flinch.

Her dead, hollow eyes remained locked on the dirt road leading out of the village. Weston's mother caught me staring. "Don't look so spooked. You're meant to be Zeke's bride.

As long as you play nice and don't get any stupid ideas about running, we won't have to break you like that." Nightfall crept in.

Weston's mother hauled a heavily rusted iron bucket into the room, sloshing half a bucket of murky hot water onto the floorboards. "Water's ready, girl.

Scrub that filthy stench off your skin." I played the obedient lamb, scrubbing myself down in the filthy water.

I had just slipped my dress back on when the flimsy wooden door crashed open. A pack of men shoved their way inside, reeking of stale beer and unwashed bodies.

Their bloodshot eyes locked onto every inch of my exposed skin, swallowing hard in unison. "City girls really are built different. Look at that flawless skin.

Makes a man's blood boil just staring at her." "This bitch is prettier than a damn Hollywood starlet.

What is this, the eighth piece of meat Weston dragged back this season?" "Every single one is hotter than the last. Especially this one.

I swear to God, I don't know what kind of voodoo Weston is working, but these dumb sluts just line up to jump into his truck." "Are you blind? It's that prettyboy face of his!

City girls are so painfully easy to play." "If Weston didn't have that innocent, angelic face, there's no way in hell a backwater shithole like this would ever score prime meat like her." Their sickening, predatory stares dragged up and down my body like physical hands.

Even fully clothed, the weight of their stares made my skin crawl. I clutched the fabric at my chest, forcing my legs to tremble as I backed away step by step.

As a serpent woman, raw carnal desire was wired into my DNA—seducing men was as natural as drawing breath.

But the thought of these unwashed, rotting pigs touching me forced a wave of bile up the back of my throat. "Quit playing hard to get, bitch. You're here now.

Your only purpose is to spread your legs for us." The closest one lunged, yanking me forward by the arm. He leaned in, aiming his foul mouth at my face.

The putrid stench of rotting teeth and stale alcohol rolling off his breath made my stomach heave. "Where is Weston?" I shoved my hands against his chest, pushing him back hard. "Does he know you're in here?" "His bitch of a mother already took our cash.

Who gives a shit if he knows?" He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Don't tell me you're actually holding out hope that he's coming to save you?

You have no idea where you are, do you? The outside world calls this place a trafficker's den." "Weston is our top earner.

In just three months, you're the eighth piece of trash he's dragged in. Every single woman dragged up this mountain gets broken in by us first.

No exceptions." "Stop wasting time talking to the bitch," another one growled, unbuckling his belt. "I'm losing my mind here.

Just pin her down." The pack of men swarmed me, their filthy hands clawing at my dress, tearing the fabric. I stopped struggling.

My eyelids fluttered shut for a fraction of a second. When they snapped open, my human pupils had constricted into razorthin, vertical slits.

I slowly ran the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, a tremor sliding down my spine. Eating humans raw. I had only ever heard the older sisters in my village whisper about it.

I had never actually indulged. But tonight? Tonight, I was starving for the taste of flesh. Chapter 4 The guy closest to me was the first to catch the freakish shift in my eyes.

He flinched hard, stumbling backward before scrambling out the door on his hands and knees. "Monster!

She's a fucking monster!" The rest of the pack traded confused glances. "What the hell is his problem?" The commotion dragged Weston into the room. "What do you think you're doing?" The second his voice hit the air, my pupils snapped back to their human disguise. "What are you yelling for?

Isn't breaking them in village tradition?" one of them fired back. "She belongs to Gideon.

You really want to put your filthy hands on his property?" I didn't know who this Gideon was, but the second his name dropped, the air shifted.

The men immediately deflated, turning away and cursing under their breath as they filed out into the dirt.

Weston turned to follow them, but my voice nailed him to the spot. "How much to buy my way out? I'll double it." His footsteps halted. He pivoted, closing the distance between us.

His gaze dragged over me, thick with disgust. "Scared now?

Where's all that attitude you had when you were dumping me?" "Even if I hadn't dumped you, you still would've sold me eventually," I shot back. "It was just a matter of time." He stepped right into my space. "Save your breath.

Now that you're here, there is absolutely zero chance you are ever walking back out." "Oh yeah?" I sneered. "So when exactly are you auctioning me off like prime livestock?" "I'm taking you to see Gideon tomorrow morning.

As long as that freak of a son wants you, you're going to rot on his moldy mattress for the rest of your miserable life." Which meant the second the transaction cleared, I could drag him back to my village.

First thing the next morning, his mother tossed me a fresh set of clothes. The moment I changed, they marched me straight to Gideon's compound.

Gideon was the undisputed boss of this backwater hellhole. Word was, he had a massive trafficking network running through his hands.

Maybe all that bad karma caught up to him, because he only managed to spawn one son—and the kid was a complete freak. Gideon treated him like his most prized possession.

Now that the freak was old enough for a bride, Gideon wanted to buy him toptier meat: a girl with a flawless face, a perfect body, and good breeding hips.

Most importantly, his freak son had to like her. As long as those boxes were checked, Gideon was willing to dump endless cash.

When Weston shoved me in front of Gideon, the old man's eyes instantly lit up with greedy satisfaction. He snapped his fingers, ordering his muscle to bring his son out. "Zeke.

Go on. Go take a look at your new bride." Zeke was pushed toward me. He reached out, his clumsy, heavy hands grabbing at my face and yanking on my hair like I was a new toy.

After pawing at me for a full minute, he pulled back. "Dad, I don't like her! Make her go away!" I froze. What the actual hell?

I had played the absolute best men in the city, and now I was getting rejected by an inbred freak? But the old man was practically vibrating with approval.

He patted his son's arm. "Be a good boy, Zeke. She's your new bride. By the time night falls, you're going to love her." Gideon shot a look at his men.

Within seconds, I was dragged into a cramped, windowless shack and locked inside. I had no idea how much cash I had just been auctioned off for.

They kept me locked in that suffocating shack, starving me for three agonizing days. My only ration was a single, filthy bowl of water every twentyfour hours.

It wasn't until the third night, once they were sure my body was too weak to fight back, that they finally let the freak in.

Standing outside the heavy wooden door, his mother loudly coached him. "Zeke, remember how to sleep with your new bride?

You have to strip her clothes off first, just like I taught you. Understand?" Zeke must have nodded. The heavy iron hinges groaned as the door was pushed open.

Hunger tore through my stomach like battery acid. Staring at the freak's meaty, fleshy face, my pupils dilated with pure, vibrating thrill. I was starving.

I couldn't wait to rip his throat open. Chapter 5 I curled my finger, motioning him closer. "Come here. Come to me." I narrowed my eyes, watching him close the distance.

With every step he took, the rich, intoxicating scent of raw meat wafted off his skin, making my stomach fiercely clench with hunger.

He stopped right in front of me and immediately reached out, his clumsy hands pawing at my clothes. I didn't stop him.

I locked my eyes onto his without a single blink. "Have you ever seen a woman this beautiful?" He shook his meaty head. "No. The others are bad. They're mean." "They always cry.

You don't cry. I like you." I buried my face in the crook of his neck and took a deep, dragging inhale. "You smell so damn good." Razorsharp fangs elongated from my gums.

Right as I was about to sink them into his jugular, the ancient laws of my bloodline flashed through my mind. No slaughtering the innocent.

We could only feast on those who carried the stench of murder. Realizing that, a wave of bitter disappointment washed over me. I slowly retracted my fangs.

Gideon was a monster, but surely this freak of a son hadn't actually killed anyone, right? I shoved him back by the shoulders. "Let me ask you a question.

Get it right, and we can play whatever game you want.

Deal?" He jerked his head up, huffing like a spoiled brat. "If you don't play with me, I'm gonna hit you with my stick." I rolled my eyes hard.

Who the hell was this freak trying to scare? A fucking stick? Did he even know which end to hold? "Have you ever killed anyone?

Have you ever seen real blood?" I didn't actually expect an answer. But then he reached behind his back and pulled out a stick.

It was a literal wooden branch, about the thickness of firewood and a foot and a half long. "I hit them with the stick, and then they die," he muttered, staring blankly at the wood. "They stop moving.

And a lot of blood comes out." A chill spiked down my spine. My mouth moved before my brain could stop it. "Hit them where?" "My mom told me!

Just hit them with the stick!" His face twisted into a grotesque pout. "They never let me do it." "They always scream and yell.

But when I beat them, they stop screaming." "Too bad they break so fast.

I wasn't even done playing, and they just died." I swallowed hard, dragging my gaze over him with absolute clarity. The spawn of a devil was still a devil, braindamaged or not.

He gripped the piece of wood and took a step toward me. "Can you wait until I'm done playing before you die?" I narrowed my eyes, a slow, predatory grin slicing across my face. "Can you wait until I'm full before you die?" He stared at me blankly, failing to process the threat.

My desperate, terrified disguise shattered in that exact second. My bones let out a series of sickening, deafening cracks. It didn't matter. He was about to find out.

As his dumbstruck eyes went wide, my fangs punched through my gums. My legs fused and elongated into a massive, heavily scaled serpent tail.

With a single, lightningfast whip of my tail, I coiled around his thick torso, constricting so violently he couldn't even force a gasp past his lips.

I crushed every single bone in his body until they ground into powder, then peeled his ugly skin away in strips. Only then did I take my time, slowly indulging in the feast.

Sated, I ran a hand over my swollen stomach, letting out a satisfied exhale. "The flesh of the wicked really does taste the best." I licked the blood off my lips, savoring the lingering aftertaste.

The guards standing outside realized it had been dead silent for far too long. A heavy fist pounded on the wood. "Zeke?" I let out a few muffled, breathless whimpers.

The knocking stopped instantly. I rested against the damp floorboards for a while. Once I was sure my energy was restored, I prepared to hunt down Weston.

Slipping through the shadows of the pitchblack village, I broke into his room. He was dead asleep, snoring softly into his pillow.

I pressed my palm flat against his bare chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic thud against my skin. I wondered if this heart was pitch black on the inside.

If it had been any other woman locked in that shack tonight, she would have been brutally tortured to death in the most degrading way imaginable.

And the bastard who orchestrated it all was sleeping like a baby. He truly was the naturalborn psychopath I had been searching for.

Chapter 6 Sensing my presence in the pitchblack room, he jerked awake. He clamped his hand around my wrist, his breathing harsh and ragged. "Who is it?" I didn't say a word.

I just stared at him. As his eyes adjusted to the dark and he recognized my face, the tension visibly drained from his shoulders. But then it clicked.

He pointed a shaking finger at me. "How… how the hell are you in here?" "Oh, I missed you so much I just had to break out and see you." "Break out? You?

Bullshit." He sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "And what the hell is that smell on you?" "Probably the blood," I sneered, slowly licking my bottom lip. "On my way out, I ripped your boss's freak of a son open and hollowed out his insides.

By now, they're probably trying to piece his bones back together." Well, technically, his remains. I wasn't exactly a polite eater. I spat his bones out all over the floorboards.

If they gathered them all up and did a morbid puzzle, they might just barely scrape together a full skeleton. Weston slammed his hand onto the bedside lamp switch.

The harsh light flooded the room, illuminating the scattered blood splatters staining my clothes. The color drained from his face. "You… you're lying.

That's impossible." The realization hit him, and he opened his mouth to shout for the guards. I clamped my hand tightly over his mouth, cutting off the sound. "Relax.

I'm not here to kill you. I'm actually here to save your life." "Gideon's precious freak is dead because of me.

Do you really think he's going to let the guy who brought me here walk away breathing?" "They're probably already marching over here to skin you alive. Take me with you.

We're in the same boat now." He shoved me hard in the chest, his eyes wild. "I sold you into a trafficking ring! You must want me dead!" "Save me?

You're just trying to drag me down with you." "Don't flatter yourself.

I just need you to drive the truck so I can get out of this hellhole." I kept my voice deadpan. "You like cash, right? I've got a condo back in the city worth a clean two million.

Get us out of here, and I'll sign the deed over to you." He narrowed his eyes, deeply suspicious. "Why the hell should I trust you?" "Because I just slaughtered a man.

You have leverage on a murderer. What choice do I have?" I gestured toward the door. "Either we sit here and wait for Gideon to chop us both into pieces, or we get in that truck.

You keep your life, and you get a massive payday." "Make a call.

If we wait any longer, nobody is leaving." He furiously gripped his hair, tugging at the roots before grinding his teeth. "Fine. I'll get us out.

But if you try to screw me over on that condo, I'll bury you myself." The engine of the Chevy pickup had barely roared to life when a swarm of blinding flashlight beams pierced the darkness.

A mob of men clutching machetes was marching straight toward the house. Weston jammed a cigarette between his lips and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. "Fuck!

They move fast." He cranked the wheel hard, spinning the truck around, and tore down a hidden backroad. He floored the gas pedal, the engine screaming through the dense trees.

His eyes darted frantically to the rearview mirror every two seconds, scanning for headlights. Thick beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead.

After driving straight through the night, his eyes were bloodshot. He was running on fumes. "Let me drive.

You need to crash," I offered. "You trying to pull something?" he snapped, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. "If you don't trust me, keep driving." I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the window, ignoring him.

He fought the exhaustion for another few miles before violently slamming the brakes on the shoulder of the highway. "You drive.

I'm taking a nap." I slid into the driver's seat, a cheerful smile stretching across my face. "Perfect. Sleep tight." By the time you wake up, we'll be right at my doorstep.

Chapter 7 Once the adrenaline crashed, his exhaustion took over. He slept like the dead, defenseless. By the time he finally stirred, it was almost noon.

I had switched highways hours ago, and we were already closing in on the entrance to my village.

My hometown wasn't much different from his—buried deep in the dense, forgotten mountains, miles away from civilization.

It was the kind of offthegrid sanctuary you could never find unless a local led you straight to it. I hummed a light tune, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.

He rubbed his eyes, staring out at the brutal, rutted dirt road.

The blood drained from his face—he thought I had driven him right back to Gideon's compound. "Why the hell are we back here?

Are you psycho?!" He lunged from the passenger seat, his hands grabbing at my arm. I slammed my foot on the brake pedal.

The momentum pitched him forward, throwing him toward the dashboard. I whipped around, my hand clamping down on his throat and pinning him hard against the seat. "Shut your mouth.

This is the road to my house." He choked, his eyes darting frantically out the window to scan the unfamiliar trees. "I thought you were giving me the condo.

What the hell are we doing in this backwater dump