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That she trusted him. That her neck was right there. That he could drink just a little.
Not enough to kill. Just enough to calm the thirst.
Sekhmet’s eyes darkened.
"No."
He repeated it, but the word felt weaker than before.
He shifted again, and the movement made a faint sound.
Scrape...
One of the guards glanced toward him briefly, eyes sharp, then looked away again, assuming he was simply adjusting to stay awake.
Sekhmet swallowed again, throat burning.
He leaned forward another fraction.
His gaze fixed on Lily’s neck like it was a rope thrown into deep water.
He could already imagine the bite.
The warmth.
The relief.
The way fatigue would dissolve like ash.
The way his blood proficiency would inch forward with the quality of her blood.
The way the hunger would finally stop screaming.
His jaw tightened.
His lips parted slightly.
He did not realize he was moving until he was close enough that he could feel Lily’s breath on his cheek, soft and warm.
Sekhmet’s eyes widened slightly, shocked at himself. He had crossed distance without deciding to. His body had moved on instinct.
His hand hovered near Lily’s shoulder, not to touch her, but to steady himself.
His head lowered. His mouth hovered near her neck. His canines ached. His throat pulsed with need.
For one terrifying heartbeat, Sekhmet’s mind went blank.
There was only blood.
There was only hunger.
There was only the simple certainty that he could bite and drink and feel relief.
His lips brushed Lily’s skin.
Warm.
Alive.
Sekhmet’s entire body shuddered.
Lily murmured something in sleep, a soft sound, unaware, trusting.
Sekhmet’s eyes squeezed shut.
"Stop."
He tried to pull back.
His body did not obey fast enough.
His teeth shifted.
Then the world exploded.
A howl tore through the night.
KRAAAAAH!
The sound was not human. It was raw and high and hungry, like a pack animal discovering prey.
The perimeter guards snapped into motion instantly.
"Contact!" one shouted.
Metal scraped.
Shing!
Another guard shouted, "Positions!"
The camp erupted into movement. The fire flared as someone kicked dirt over it, smothering the flame to reduce visibility.
Pffft — Crackle...
Sekhmet jerked back from Lily like he had been burned.
His mind snapped awake, shame and relief crashing together. The hunger did not vanish, but danger forced it to retreat into the background.
Sekhmet rose to his feet in one smooth motion, blood sword forming in his hand.
Shhhh...
He turned toward the perimeter.
Shapes poured into the hollow.
Not one.
Not five.
Dozens.
They came out of the dark like something that had been born in a cave and raised by hunger.
Each creature stood a little shorter than a man, but not by much. Their bodies were built low and vicious, all ropey muscle and wiry limbs, with long forearms that swung as they ran and clawed hands that looked made for grabbing throats.
Their skin was scaled, not smooth — patchy plates of dull green, muddy brown, and bruised gray, like old armor that had grown directly from flesh. Some had ridges along their spines that rose like jagged hills, and some had crooked tails that snapped behind them for balance.
Their heads were worse.
Snouts like half-formed lizards, mouths too wide, teeth too many. Rows of cracked fangs jutted out at odd angles, stained dark as if they chewed bone for fun.
Their tongues flashed as they barked and hissed, and their eyes caught the moonlight the way a predator’s eyes did — small, bright, and wrong, glowing in dirty yellow and sickly amber.
A few wore scraps of leather and rusted metal strapped across their chests, but most looked like they trusted their scales and madness more than armor.
Their weapons were crude but cruel.
Jagged spears made from bone and snapped steel. Hatchets with chipped edges. Knives that looked like they had been sharpened on stone until the metal begged for mercy. Some carried shields that were little more than nailed-together planks, dark with old stains. Around their necks, several wore necklaces of teeth, finger bones, and cracked chaos stones, clacking as they moved.
And they moved like a swarm.
Not marching. Not charging like soldiers. They flowed — scrambling over rocks, slipping through gaps, climbing walls like rats that learned how to hate. They did not care if the ones in front died, because the ones behind would climb over the bodies and keep coming.
Their breath stank of rot and wet fur.
Their voices were worse.
High, barking, and layered, like a pack arguing with itself while it attacked — each one screaming for blood as if the word alone could fill their empty bellies.
They were Kobols.
They came like a flood of teeth and claws, carrying crude weapons made from bone and jagged metal. Some wore scraps of armor. Some wore nothing but scars. Their numbers were high enough that the stone hollow looked suddenly too small.
TapTapTapTapTap!
Their feet hit the ground in a frantic rhythm.
Their voices layered over each other, barking in guttural chaos language.
"Kill! Kill!"
"Take!"
"Soft humans!"
"Blood!"
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed.
He activated Blood Eye automatically, sweeping through the pack.
[Kobol Raider.
Overall Battle Power: 3200]
Another.
[Kobol Raider.
Overall Battle Power: 4500]
Another.
[Kobol Raider.
Overall Battle Power: 5100]
The strongest in the front wave were below six thousand.
But there were too many.
The guards formed a defensive line instantly, spears and blades angled outward, backs to the camp center.
Lily jolted awake, eyes wide.
"What—" she began.
Sekhmet snapped, voice sharp, "Stay down."
Lily froze, then saw the kobols flooding in and reached for her sword.
The guard captain shouted, "Protect Lady Lily!"
Two guards rushed to Lily immediately, forming a tight shield around her, bodies blocking her from direct sightlines.
Three guards shifted outward, taking positions between Sekhmet and the incoming pack, their formation adapting in seconds like water finding shape.
The remaining guards charged to meet the first wave before the kobols could swarm the center.