A/N: Thank you so much everyone for all of the wonderful birthday wishes! They were great, you have no idea how much I appreciated it. Because I don't do it enough, please let me express my deep gratitude to those of you who take the time to converse with me/give me feedback/encourage me. You guys don't have any idea how meaningful that is to me. I truly, deeply value your support. Thank you.

XXXIV

He was a monster.

Lydia had never had any illusions about this. Murder was his first inclination to almost any slight. For Christ's sake, he kept a torture chamber in his home. Though there was no way of proving it and she was sure he would lie to her anyway, she was fairly certain he had gone behind her back to threaten or intimidate her father somehow. Badly enough that he was shaken into silence. This savageness, this unforgiving quality is part of why Lydia continued to be baffled by the dead man's adamant devotion to her. Despite her better judgment, she never could bring herself to fear him- not the way that she knew she should.

The reality of his malignant nature came crashing down around her with startling clarity as the beast he truly was presented itself to her. He looked more himself with scales and fangs than in that human costume he seemed to love so much. Once before she had seen him like this. When he attacked Otho and her parents, taking them out one by one before finally, inevitably cornering her. She had been so certain that death was imminent, so absolute in her assessment of the situation, so ready. Now? She didn't know what to expect.

"Wanna go ssswimmin', babe?"

The creature hissed down at her, its massive body coiled into a mound of stripes. A grotesque smile exposed a crooked row of long, jagged teeth framed by gray gums. Lydia was speechless. Betelgeuse, pleased by her silent awe, lowered to her level, closed what he knew were intimidating, carnivorous eyes, and waited patiently for her to approach. It would be better if she came to him on her own. He knew she would. This was her idea.

Still, he was shocked when she touched his fangs before anything else. Bulbous yellow eyes popped open and his forked tongue instinctively darted out to kiss her inner wrist- inspiring a giggle and retreat. "Those look pretty sharp. Promise you won't bite me?"

Little fucking tease. "Promissse. Wouldn't wanna make ya bleeeeed."

The hungry gleam in his eyes at the mention of her blood made it race. A warm hand traced across the side of his face, over his wiry mass of hair, finally stopping to splay flat against a black strip of scales. The muscles flexed beneath her touch and he moved, curling half around her and lowering himself even further until he was treading water. When the sea grew deep enough to where he could slither along at hip level beside her, he veered off, bumping into her purposefully. She almost lost balance but caught herself before she could topple over. "What? Am I supposed to ride you like a pony?"

"That'sss the idea, baby." She didn't expect an answer from the submerged serpent. "Hop on."

"Is this-" She hesitated, adjusting her legs around him and carefully grasping the cord of icy muscle beneath his head. "Is this right?" He didn't answer. When she tried to lift her feet from the sand he streamed forward, and she fell with a splash. His cackle was clear through the ocean water rushing her eardrums. "Jerk!" She sputtered as she ascended, flipping wet hair from her face.

"Try again, babe," a gravelly voice chuckled from behind her. Then, he was between her legs, nudging them apart and situating himself as he saw fit. "Grab my hair." She was too polite to do such a thing without prompting unless in the midst of sexual torment, and then who could blame her? His obedient little wife did as she was told. This time, when he glided across the water she stayed in place; a warm, pleasant weight across his back. He kept his pace slow at first, letting them both adjust to the foreign experience. As it was, he had never actually let someone ride him like this- like a circus animal- and she most certainly had never straddled a giant snake- not unless she counted his cock.

"Sorry," she gasped when he sped up a bit and her grip on his hair reflexively tightened. "Did that hurt?"

His speed increased with renewed vigor, forcing her fists to clench again. "That'sss my line."

A fierce blush painted her cheeks at his implication. "You could have just said no." Lydia was feeling comfortable enough to sit upright, thighs firmly banded around him. The water on the surface was warm, but she could feel where it got colder at the tips of her toes. "Do you see differently when you're like this?" She could still see him clearly through the water but everything beneath his bold stripes and beyond was black. Where before the current had been calm and lapping, it now splashed against her stomach and breasts carelessly as he darted along at a smooth rate.

"Oh, baby... If you could ssseee what I'm ssseeein'..." the serpent she rode chuckled before jumping up to catch an incoming wave of average height. In response, she tightened her thighs and arched her upper body in a retracting counter, leaning her hips into him to maintain the position. "You'd beg me ta take ya back ta sshhore."

At his remark, she spared a glance back to the beach. It was still within sight, but wouldn't be for long at this pace. "Did you just try to knock me off? Do you know where you're going?"

"Nah, jusss like makin' ya sssqueeze me." He took on a larger wave and she was able to read his anticipation. Prepared for it this time, her fluid balancing movement was easily replicated. Lydia had never ridden a horse before, but she imagined it was probably something like this. With presumably less innuendo. "And no."

For a split-second she feared for his car, her camera and photos- sitting on the beach, yellow doors wide open. Then, she remembered that those kinds of uncertainties were petty, arbitrary, human problems that she no longer needed to concern herself with. With that thought, caution was thrown to the wind. "Beej," she began with an insidious, false innocence, hoping to skip the banter and get straight to the point, "can you go any faster?"

Hidden from her, the serpent's inhuman grin deepened, crudely contorting its already frightful features. She nearly screamed for him when he accelerated rapidly, changing pace and surging with the flow of the current rather than against it. Impressively, she managed to maintain her upright position. What Betelgeuse would give to see her at this moment. His Queen; perched proudly atop her serpent, scouring the seas, damp raven locks whipping in the wind behind her, stars in her eyes and a smile bright enough to outshine the moon. She must have been fucking glorious.

Wanting to see her again, he took on a considerably large wave, hoping to shake her sturdy symmetry. Unfortunately, her resolve was just as dogged as always. Those creamy white thighs pulled him even closer and she remained intently astride him.

"You are trying to knock me off!"

"Only ssso I can sssave ya."

"There's a name for that. It's called Munchausen by Proxy. Freud could probably tell you a thing or two about it. Want to go ask?" Unexpectedly, he halted. The abrupt break in their rhythm surprised her, making her slip from his back roughly. When she emerged and finished rubbing water from her eyes- the sting wasn't all that bad- she could no longer see his stripes. "Ginger's right. You are a bully." There was no response from the depths. "Beej?" Silence.

The sea was coarse and broken without her husband to smooth it out for her. Lydia was able to tread the surface, but it took effort and concentration. The water below her shoulders was cold against all her flesh but the bits that had been branded by her husband. Numbness from acclimating to Betelgeuse's chill and fatigue from expending energy keeping hold of him made the current feel stronger than it truly was. She had to use her oxygen wisely, choose her words carefully. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not work-"

Mockingly, the sea interrupted her, filling her mouth with salt water and sputtering the end of her sentence. Drawing in deep breaths, Lydia centered herself. She turned steadily, searching for something, anything other than ocean. She saw land. An island. It was close- within swimming distance- and definitely hadn't been there when she was still astride him. Well. She knew how to take a hint. As badly as she wanted to yell out, call him every filthy name in the book and curse him to a sexless eternity- every breath counted. It could wait.

The island wasn't as close as it originally seemed. A heavy weakness tugged at her limbs minutes into her determined, evenly paced breast-stroke. She pushed through it until, unbearably, inescapably she had to stop and take a breath. Significant distance had been traversed, but she still couldn't have been more than halfway there, if that. The waves were less forgiving here than they were earlier. "Beej-" she gasped as she broke free from a vault of water; eyes clenched shut, curtain of hair covering her face, obscuring the flow of air into her mouth. Instinctual panic crept in as she struggled for equilibrium. A short wave crashed over her and pulled her down from the surface.

He wouldn't actually let her drown. Did something happen to him?

Just as her oxygen-deprived panic began to evolve into real fear, she was captured. A thick rope of pure muscle slung itself around her waist, leaving her arms and legs free. Then, she was lifted clear out of the water- a drowned ragdoll with its bum in the air- by his tail. He slithered along toward the island with an infuriatingly natural dexterity, a triumphant gleam in his yellow orbs. "You-!" she screeched, attempting to wriggle out of his locked hold with little success. "Grebannyi- mudak-!"

He froze. Slowly, she was reintroduced to the water, though he maintained his bounds. As he turned, bringing his front end closer to her, his tail continued its exploration of her body. It slid and coiled down her hips. The firm, blunt tip shamelessly batted the globes of her ass cheeks- with impressive force considering the watery barrier. Then, it settled high on the back of her thighs. Sporadically, it alternated between wavering upwards to squeeze her rear between the other rope of muscle coiled around her hips, and slipping between the seam of her thighs to lightly stroke the sensitive flesh covered by her swimsuit.

"You know what talkin' like that doesss ta me..."

It was a warning. The only one he would give her, judging by the dominating, explorative nature of his tail. "Schitaesh, chto eto sekaual'no... da?"

The cord of icy scales around her middle tightened crushingly- stealing the breath from her lungs- before releasing her completely. "Ssswim," the creature ordered. Then, it sunk into the depths, disappearing from sight.

Anticipation paired with adrenaline killed all the ire she felt from his previous game. Really, it had been kind of fun up until the very the end. Not as fun as this, though. Summing up the strength necessary to make it to shore without his help would have been impossible. Luckily, he was there to urge her along. Involuntary, second-nature bites of panic hit her every time she felt a scrape of scales against her belly or thighs, forcing her to swim faster, push her body to the limit. She knew he was swimming along beside her, or beneath her, or behind her. At a snail's pace, undoubtedly. Certainly, he would be smiling that shit-eating-grin of his while toying with his prey.

The mental image thrilled her.

When she broke free from the tides, her frenzied swim fell into a sprint and then she was gone, flying across the sand and through the thicket. The chase was endless. She ducked under branches and jumped obstacles, taking sharp turns through undomesticated patches of jungle as though an erratic pattern might somehow throw him off her scent. A stray branch snagged her bikini top and- frustrated- she yanked it off, throwing the useless scrap of nylon to the dirt. Inspired by her impromptu scandalous behavior, the bottoms were left behind as well.

Tragically, her legs could only carry her so far. The aching limbs refused to obey her orders as she attempted to gallop through a stretch of thick green grass that grew tall over her head. Instead, they threw her to the ground and she- helpless to do anything about it- rolled into the inevitable fall so that she was splayed flat on her back. The foliage caught her lovingly. Again, each breath was precious. They were deep and painful and necessary and how could he not need to do this?

The grass rustled and she pried her long shut eyes open. The rate of her breathing did not increase or decrease. The hunt was over. She was caught. The imminent and unavoidable was surely coming to pass. Nevertheless, she was still somewhat taken aback when her husband walked through the growth as if he were strolling down a sidewalk. Grimy hands sat in his pockets, a cigarette hung out of the corner of his filthy mouth, which was twisted into its signature cocksure smirk. Despite his casual gait, there was an unmistakably bestial glint in the jade eyes that paused to soak up the sight of her.

"Havin' fun, baby?"

"Da," the short, rebellious reply was barely more than a puff of air.

The grass squeaked beneath his boots as he crouched beside her. Cracked, pale lips split at the seam, revealing his blunted teeth. "Still think you're ready ta fuck with me?"

"Da," this one was softer, pleading. She was able to find the motivation necessary to arch her depleted body up to the moon, presenting herself to him. Betelgeuse, not one to ignore such a gracious offering, swept the pads of his fingers up the valley between her breasts, tweaking each nipple once- appraisingly, as if testing their hardness. There was no need. The pale pink points had been throbbing and tender since he first threw her into the sea.

"Lookit that." A sort of warmth took over his dark, feral features as he traced his hand lower. Frigid knuckles brushed against her cleanly shaved pubis. "That's just fuckin' beautiful. You do that for me?"

"Da," this was practically a mewl. She lifted her hips into the barely-there caress, seeking further contact, but he withdrew.

"Goddamn, baby," he wondered aloud, stubbing out his cigarette, "ya even realize how cold you are?" Her lips were ruddy and darkened, blood rushing to their surface as she bit at them and shivered. Goosebumps covered nearly every inch of her alabaster flesh, slick with sweat and ocean water. Still high off the chase, his fickle bride was careless in her lust and didn't seem to notice how much her body was actively rejecting his touch. He was kicking himself for experimenting so callously with her human fragility.

"No," Lydia pouted. She wasn't cold, she was burning. He was obviously an imbecile who didn't know anything about anything. Regardless, he didn't wait to hear her objection, drawing her into his arms and carting her off deeper into the jungle. Shortly- and she knew it couldn't have been very long because she had still yet to normalize her breathing- he stopped. She opened her eyes, withdrawing from where she had tucked herself against his chest.

It was beautiful here. A perfect oasis. Like something out of a traveling catalog, but better because there was no one else around, the sun was down, and Delia wasn't tirelessly fawning over every last detail. The scene was comprised of a moderately sized grass hut- complete with a beaded curtain- a full bar, two beach chairs, and a comically oversized umbrella. A crystal clear lake glistened at one end of the meadow, perpetually fed by a gushing waterfall. The cliff looked to be the perfect height for climbing and jumping- provided the lake was deep enough for such activities. Lydia suspected that it was.

When he carried her through the hut, she saw that the dwelling was nothing more than a room for a large bed. It was round, black, and without a frame, laying flat and inviting on the ground. An array of variously sized, darkly shaded pillows lay strewn across the cushy surface- some toppling onto the dusty floor- as well as a single blanket and a smattering of rose petals. They were of the deepest, bloodiest shade of red. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

He may be a monster, but he was her monster.

"Now," he grunted, carrying her through the similarly beaded back entrance so she could see what hid behind the grass shanty. There was an actual hot spring. Smooth gray stones framed the steaming pool. Fragrant steam rose from the milky shallows. Lydia was suddenly painfully aware of exactly how cold she really was. "I can fuck you all day, every day, all night long- no fuckin' problem." To her surprise, he stepped straight into the spring, boots and all. She tensed, half expecting him to drop her into the scalding pit, but he didn't. He turned and knelt, setting her down at the edge of the pool very gently, as though she would break into pieces if he were to handle her in his usual brutish manner.

"You're the soft one. So I gotta apologize for playin' too rough with ya. S'no excuse for it, I know better."

He never relinquished his hold on her. As he slipped down into the heated mineral water, his hands slid along her gooseflesh until he had a thin ankle encircled within one of his rough, grubby palms. Carefully, he extended the limb across his chest, holding it out over the warm vapors until just the tips of her toes kissed the water. Lydia gasped, the arch of her foot curling away from the painful, needling sensation. He shushed her, icy lips brushing her knee.

"Let's get you warmed up, baby."

L: "Fucking- dick-!"

L: "You think it's sexy... yes?"