Serpent's Kiss

By Lisabet Sarai

When a woman atoning for past sins heals the human avatar of an ancient god, she’s drawn into a perilous dance of destiny and desire.

From the first, Dr. Elena Navarro senses that the wounded man she discovers outside the gate of her rural clinic is not an ordinary mortal. With his chest ripped open, Jorge Pélikal still demonstrates unnatural strength and power. Elena is irresistibly attracted to Jorge, although he warns her their coupling could open the gates of chaos and cost her life. Despite his dire predictions, they fall in love. Gradually Elena comes to understand that Jorge is a supernatural player in a cosmic drama that will determine the fate of the earth and of mankind—and that even if he triumphs in his apocalyptic struggle with his nemesis, she may lose him forever.

Note: Serpent’s Kiss was previously published by Totally Entwined. This new edition has been re-edited, revised and expanded.

Reader Advisory: This book may not be appropriate for individuals with a fear of snakes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisabet Sarai
• Release date: Oct 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215674734

Lisabet Sarai

I became addicted to words at an early age. I began reading when I was four. I wrote my first story at five years old and my first poem at seven. Since then, I have written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – more than fifty single author titles including eight full length novels, plus dozens of short stories in various collections. My credits include contributions to the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. My gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention. I have also edited a number of acclaimed erotica anthologies. Currently I am responsible for the charity erotica imprint Coming Together Presents, which as of December 2014 has published six volumes by top erotic authors, supporting causes such as Amnesty International, Planned Parenthood, and the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America.I have more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by my chosen genre. Aside from writing, travel is one of my most fervent passions. I’ve visited every continent except Australia, though I still have a long bucket list of places I haven’t been. Currently I live in Southeast Asia with my indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where I pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.For more information about me and my writing, visit my website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com). Join my VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh I also hang out at Goodreads, (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai) because I love the idea of a social network focusing on the love of reading. I’m not on Facebook, because I don’t trust it.

Book preview

Serpent’s Kiss

Lisabet Sarai

© Second edition copyright 2023 Lisabet Sarai

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author and not encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials. For permission to use portions of this text, other than for review purposes, please contact Lisabet at [e-mail].

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This book is intended for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

No generative AI training use. For avoidance of doubt, the author reserves the rights, and no other person or agency has rights to, reproduce and/or otherwise use this Work in any manner for purposes of training artificial intelligence technologies to generate text, including without limitation, technologies that are capable of generating works in the same style or genre as the Work, unless they obtain the author’s specific and express permission to do so. Nor does any person or agency have the right to sublicense others to reproduce and/or otherwise use the Work in any manner for purposes of training artificial intelligence technologies to generate text without the author’s specific and express permission.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

About the Author

Blurb for The Eyes of Bast

Excerpt from The Eyes of Bast

A Message from Lisabet

In memory of my father,

who taught me to love the marvelous.

Chapter One

Help me…please…

The moan was barely audible above the chatter of the birds greeting the dusk. Elena paused, key half-turned in the padlock, listening closely.

"Por favor…"

This time, she could hear the pain in the man’s voice. The sound came from the mass of tangled vegetation framing the gate of the clinic. She stuck the lock in her jeans pocket and tried to part the curtain of lianas that cloaked the young fir tree. The tough vines resisted, but she finally managed to tear them apart, exposing a clearing created by the tree’s drooping branches.

He lay on his back on the damp ground, gasping for breath. A doctor first, Elena immediately noted the terrible wound that ripped across his chest. The rough trousers that were his only garment were black with blood.

She crawled into the concealed space and knelt beside him, examining the awful gash more closely. The flow had begun to clot, but if she moved him, the bleeding might start again.

Aye… The man gave an inarticulate groan and struggled weakly to rise.

No! Stay still! Elena spoke to him in Spanish, hoping he’d understand. You mustn’t move. You’re seriously hurt. Stay here quietly. I’ll get some of the village men to carry you to the infirmary.

He grabbed her shirt, holding her back. His strength was surprising. No, please! Don’t bring anyone. No one must know…

Then how will we get you inside?

I–I can walk.

With your chest torn open like that? And all the blood that you’ve lost?

I can do it. I am strong, still.

No, it’s impossible. Just wait. I’ll be back in five minutes.

If you return with anyone else, I will be gone. For the first time since she had heard his plea, Elena the woman took over from Elena the physician. She searched his face, noting the smooth, dusky skin, the high cheek bones, the proud Mayan nose, the full lips set in a stubborn line. His eyes gleamed in the shadows beneath the boughs, challenging her. A little chill ran up her spine. Who was this stranger, so badly hurt and yet so forceful? She didn’t doubt he would do as he said. She didn’t dare take responsibility for driving him away.

All right, then. At least let me bind up your chest to hold the edges of the wound together. She shrugged off her long-sleeved shirt, trying to ignore the man’s dark eyes following her every move. She pushed away her momentary embarrassment. It didn’t matter that he saw her wearing nothing but a bra. She was a doctor, and his life was in danger.

Can you sit up? Careful, now. Take it slow. She supported him with one arm around his shoulders as he worked his way into a sitting position. She could tell from the grim set of his mouth that he was in pain, but he made no sound.

Lean on me, and I’ll try to tie this around you. He slumped against her, his right shoulder supported by her left. He was warm, clearly not in shock yet. That was good. In fact, his bare skin felt hot against hers—he was probably running a fever. Not so promising. She had to get him inside.

There was not much she could do. She gently positioned the back of her shirt against his chest, over the oozing tear in his flesh. Then she tied the arms of the shirt behind his back, tightly enough, she hoped, to apply some pressure. She couldn’t help noticing his solidly muscled torso. This was a man accustomed to hard labour. Yet there was something about his speech that made her doubt he was a peasant.

How does that feel? Is it painful?

Better. Thank you.

Don’t thank me yet. It’s twenty meters from here to the infirmary. How are we going to get you on your feet?

I can do it. You back out of the clearing. I’ll follow.

They couldn’t exit standing anyway. She decided to obey and worked her way between the vines, back onto the dirt path. Then she watched anxiously as the stranger emerged on his hands and knees. Slowly, while she marveled at his strength, he brought himself into a crouch and finally, to his full height.

He was tall for a native, half a head taller than Elena, despite her Swedish mother and her affluent American upbringing. His long black hair was tangled and knotted, studded with leaves and clumps of dirt. She could see that, when it was clean, it would reach halfway down his back. He was filthy and drenched with his own blood—a jagged diagonal line where it was seeping through her white shirt—but still, he was magnificent. Regal.

A stab of pain twisted his face into a grimace. His proud stance wavered. Elena rushed to his side just as he was about to collapse.

Hang on. Put your arm around my shoulders. There, that’s good. Now, take it slowly. One step at a time.

She slipped her arm around his waist to anchor him against her body. He shuffled forward with Elena supporting most of his weight. They inched along, through the gate and along the path to the veranda. Three stairs led up to the porch and the clinic door. Elena’s heart sank. It might as well be three hundred. There was no way her patient could make the climb himself, and he was far too heavy for her to carry him.

A narrow ramp paralleled the stairs, but that didn’t help. The second-hand wheelchair that belonged to the clinic was out on loan to Salvador Corbas, who had broken his leg while harvesting palm nuts the previous week.

They paused. Elena gazed up at the mysterious man’s face. His eyes were shut, as though he was exhausted. She wondered if he was losing consciousness. Then she realized that he was looking within, trying to summon the strength to continue. His handsome face was peaceful. He was humming a weird, atonal melody Elena found oddly familiar.

His grip on her shoulders relaxed. He opened his eyes. They glowed like twin moons in the gathering dark. An inexplicable excitement seized Elena.

Release me, he whispered. Elena had no choice but to obey. Astonished, she watched as the stranger stood fully erect. He strode briskly up the steps, as though he was completely whole.

Then he crumpled into a bloody heap in front of the clinic door.

Chapter Two

Elena managed to drag him inside the wooden building where she lived and worked and roll him into one of the infirmary cots. He appeared to be unconscious, which was a blessing given her unavoidably rough handling. He groaned once or twice but otherwise was silent as she cleaned and inspected the wound.

It was not as serious as she had feared. True, his flesh was sliced nearly to the bone, through the skin and the layers of fat and muscle, and at one point along the wound’s trajectory, she could see the pale gleam of a rib, but whatever weapon had dealt this awful blow had pierced neither his lungs nor his heart.

He had lost a great deal of blood, however. His face was ashen, rather the normal coffee color typical of the local folk. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the supplies to give him a transfusion. Electricity was erratic here; she didn’t dare keep blood products in her refrigerator. The nearest hospital was in Cobán, nearly one hundred kilometers west across jungle and mountains. The La Merced clinic was the only medical facility in the district, and it was definitely basic.

She sighed. At least she could stitch him up. She packed the wound with antibiotic gel, daubed his skin with xylocaine to dull the sting, and began to suture the ragged edges of flesh together.

The gash began just below his left nipple. She found herself fascinated by that juicy nub of flesh, erupting from the smooth plain of his hairless chest. Her hands hovered over his body, one holding the forceps, the other the curved needle, but she didn’t move. She felt a strange reluctance to