Page 22 of Between Two Kings

“The sea,” he said. “Basilisks originated there.”

Something fell suddenly into place. You smell like the sea.

Caspen told her that long ago. Tem had thought nothing of it, never considered that it might have any sort of significance. Was that why she was so drawn to the salt spray on her mother’s dresser? Had it reminded her of her true home—not the cottage where she was raised but where her family originated? And how did her mother acquire the salt spray? Had she been to the place where basilisks originated? Tem wanted dearly to explore that train of thought, but they’d reached the center of the courtyard, and something else distracted her. An enormous tiered fountain stood before them, made of off-white marble. Snow-white liquid spouted from the top before cascading down the tiers in shimmering waves. Even from here, Tem could sense the richness of the substance as it poured from the fountain. It looked like white gold.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Before Caspen could answer, a man approached the fountain. He was fully erect and—Tem realized with a jolt—touching himself. She watched in shock as he leaned over the edge, still stroking his cock. He finished a moment later with an anguished groan, releasing his cum into the base of the fountain. It joined the rest of the liquid in a great swirling pool.

“Oh,” she said simply.

Caspen laughed. “It is an elixir made from our essence.”

Tem’s eyes fell to the tower of goblets stacked next to the fountain. The man who had just ejaculated in the fountain reached for one before holding it under the highest tier. He filled it to the brim before downing the entire thing in one gulp. Tem was too shocked to react—too shocked to even blink. The man filled the goblet again before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

“The fountain itself serves a purpose,” Caspen continued as if nothing remotely out of the ordinary had just happened. “It transforms our essence into an intoxicating substance.”

“Intoxicating?”

“Yes.”

Tem frowned, trying to understand. “So…you drink it to get drunk?”

By now they had reached the fountain, and Caspen lifted a goblet from the tower beside it. “Yes, Tem. We drink it to get drunk.”

“But…” She tried to find the words to express her astonishment, but there were none. She settled on “I swallow yours all the time and I’ve never gotten drunk.”

A possessive smile split Caspen’s face. “That is different. What you swallow is my essence in its rawest, purest form. This”—he dipped the goblet into the flowing stream, filling it—“has been transformed by the fountain.”

Tem realized that for all the times she’d drank wine with Caspen, she’d never seen him get drunk—the alcohol didn’t affect him the way it affected humans. It made sense, Tem supposed, that basilisks needed such a substance to get drunk. They drew their power from sex, after all. A direct infusion of cum in its purest form was probably the only thing strong enough to do the trick.

Caspen raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

Tem watched as his pupils widened and smoke curled over his shoulders. She thought about the bloodletting—how through alchemy, basilisk blood became something else entirely. Was this magical fountain really so different from the magic Caspen had used to create the claw? Merely a process, nothing more. A transformation.

“I want to try it,” Tem said.

Caspen’s eyes slid to hers. He hesitated.

“It is strong. You do not have the tolerance for it yet. Even I must pace myself.”

But Tem would not be so easily dissuaded. Clearly this was an essential part of basilisk culture, and she was trying to assimilate. She was never going to fit in unless she did the things all other basilisks did.

“I want to try it,” she repeated.

To her surprise, Caspen smiled. “So stubborn.”

In response, Tem held out her hand. Caspen handed her the goblet, and she raised it to her lips. The elixir had no smell whatsoever. A single mouthful lingered in the bottom of the goblet, and without a moment’s hesitation, Tem tilted it back and poured it down her throat.

“Tem?” Caspen said. “How do you feel?”

Tem could barely hear him; it was as if he were talking to her through a wall. For all the times she’d gotten drunk at the Horseman with Gabriel, this was ten times stronger. Her head spun, her vision blurred. She was already warm, but the elixir made her hot—her cheeks flushed immediately as her center ached. Without touching herself, she knew she was wet.

“Caspen,” Tem gasped, her hand darting out to touch him. He stepped closer.

“What is it?”

“Now.”