Chapter 12: The Snake King’s Temperature

The market was so quiet, it felt like you could actually weigh the silence.

On one side stood Kael, the White Tiger Alpha, so angry he looked like he might turn a snake into a belt. On the other was Syris, the Black Python King, calm and collected, holding a chunk of blue salt as if it were a diamond. In between them was Ren, a human woman gripping a frying pan and wondering if her travel insurance covered being eaten by a reptile.

“Cook for you?” Ren repeated, stepping out from behind Kael’s massive back.

“Ren, no,” Kael growled, his hand clamping onto her shoulder. “Snakes are treacherous. He will eat the food, then he will eat you. I will snap his spine now and save us the trouble.”

“Violence later, groceries first,” Ren whispered, patting Kael’s hand. She looked at Syris. “You said you’re cold?”

Syris blinked slowly, his vertical pupils dilating. “I am always cold. The sun does nothing. The furs do nothing. My blood is… sluggish.”

Ren nodded, thinking like a pro. These were classic cold-blooded issues: poor circulation, needing capsaicin to get the blood moving, and ginger to help warm up inside.

“Deal,” Ren announced.

The crowd gasped.

“Ren!” Kael roared.

“Quiet, Mittens. I’m busy.” Ren pointed at the Boar-man Kael had knocked into the yam pile. “Is he dead?”

Syris glanced at the boar. “He is breathing. Regrettably.”

“Great. I’m taking over his stall.” Ren walked over to the Boar’s clay pots and picked up the biggest one, wide and shallow, just right for a wok. “This pot is my rental fee. And I’m taking his yams too.”

She turned to Syris. “And you. I need water. And that salt. Up front.”

Syris looked at the tiny female barking orders at him. He was the most feared predator in the Southern Swamps. People usually wet themselves when he looked at them. And here she was asking for a down payment.

A flicker of amusement crossed his pale face. He tossed the salt crystal.

Ren caught it. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

She set up her cooking station. Kael saw she wasn’t giving in and started sulking, arms crossed, standing guard like an annoyed bouncer. He shot dirty looks at any snake-man who got too close.

“Fire, Kael,” Ren ordered.

Kael grumbled, but he lit the wood under the clay pot.

Ren switched into chef mode. She shaved some blue salt into the pot, added water, and sliced the yams. Then she pulled out her secret weapon: the [Fire Fruit] (Chili) she’d picked up earlier.

For a snake, she needed heat. Not just temperature, but spice.

She made a Spicy Szechuan-Style Yam and Boar Stew.

She tossed in chilies until the air around the pot was thick with spice. The smell hit the crowd hard, making beastmen cough, rub their eyes, and step back.

“It burns the eyes!”

“Is she making poison?”

Syris didn’t back away. He leaned forward, his nostrils flaring. To him, the burning scent wasn’t painful. It was… stimulating. For the first time in years, he felt a prickle of sensation in his nose.

“Done,” Ren announced a few minutes later. The stew was bubbling, a deep, angry red.

She ladled a portion into a smaller clay bowl. “Careful. It’s hot.”

Syris took the bowl. His long, pale fingers brushed Ren’s hand. His skin was shockingly cold, like touching marble in winter. Ren suppressed a shiver.

Syris lifted the bowl. He didn’t use a spoon. He drank straight from the rim.

The spicy broth hit his tongue.

FLASH.

It wasn’t just taste. It was an explosion. The capsaicin hit his receptors, tricking his brain into thinking he was on fire. His heart rate spiked. His blood, usually slow and icy, began to race.

A real, pink flush crept up his pale neck.

Syris gasped, dropping the bowl. It shattered.

“King!” his snake guards hissed, reaching for their weapons. “She poisoned him!”

“No…” Syris raised a hand, stopping them.

He stood there, swaying slightly. His eyes were wide, the amethyst irises trembling. He looked at his hands. They weren’t pale white anymore. They were turning a healthy, rosy color.

Heat.

Wonderful, burning heat spread from his stomach to his fingers and toes. The constant, aching chill he’d felt since his last molting was finally gone.

“I am…” Syris whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion Ren couldn’t place. “I am warm.”

He looked at Ren. The boredom was gone. In its place was a terrifying intensity.

“What did you put in this?” Syris demanded, stepping closer. “Magic? Sun-fire?”

“Chili peppers and ginger,” Ren said, wiping her hands on her pants. “It boosts metabolism. You’re welcome.”

Syris stared at her. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t the cold smirk from before. It was a genuine, intoxicated smile.

“Ren,” he tested her name. “You are… necessary.”

He reached out, his hand darting forward like a striking cobra to grab her wrist.

SNAP.

A massive, tanned hand intercepted his wrist in mid-air.

Kael.

“She fed you,” Kael snarled, his face inches from Syris. “The transaction is done. Let go.”

Tension filled the air between the two Alphas. Kael was all fire and strength, while Syris was cold and precise.

Syris looked at Kael’s grip on his wrist. He chuckled softly.

“You are a lucky cat, Kael,” Syris murmured. “To have found such a heater.”

He pulled his hand back, smooth as silk. He turned his amethyst gaze to Ren.

“The salt is yours,” Syris said. “But this is not the end, Little Human. The rainy season is coming. It will be cold. Very, very cold.”

He leaned in, his voice a whisper that only Ren could hear.

“When the Tiger’s cave becomes damp and chilly… remember that my palace has heated floors. And I have much, much more salt.”

With a swirl of his robes, Syris turned and glided away, his guards trailing behind him.

Ren let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Heated floors?” she whispered wistfully.

“Don’t listen to him!” Kael snapped, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him. He was furious. “He is manipulating you! Snakes are liars!”

“He paid up, though.” Ren held up the salt crystal. “Look at this, Kael! We can cure meat! We can make pickles! We’re rich!”

Kael didn’t look at the salt. He looked at her wrist, where Syris had almost touched her. He rubbed his thumb over the spot, as if scrubbing away the snake’s presence.

“We are leaving,” Kael announced abruptly. “The market stinks of reptiles.”

He picked Ren up, along with the pot and salt, and slung her over his shoulder.

“Hey! I wasn’t done shopping! I need a spoon!”

“I will carve you a spoon!” Kael marched toward the jungle, leaving the stunned crowd behind. “I will carve you a hundred spoons! Just stay away from him!”

Ren hung upside down, watching the market fade away.

[System Notification: Bond Level Updated.][Kael: 20% (Jealousy Spike).][Syris: 10% (Intrigued/Addicted to Spice).][New Title Unlocked: ’The Spice Merchant’.]

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