Chapter 1

I raised that snake for twelve years.

Then I saw him with his hands around my sister’s waist, whispering sweet things meant for me.

“Who would like a short, weak little freak like her?”He laughed, talking about me.

In that moment, I finally understood.

I hadn’t saved a partner.

I’d raised a snake who would bite the hand that fed him.

So I handed him the termination papers and walked away.

Later, he went crazy looking for me.

But by then, I was already in the arms of someone who actually knew how to hold me.

Raven was a sickly little snake I’d adopted.

It wasn’t uncommon for humans and shifters to pair and bond. My family had been bonded with snake shifters for generations. From a young age, each of us would either be gifted a snake beast-man by our parents or find one on our own.

But I was out of favor, so I quietly went and found my own little snake.

When I found Raven in a dilapidated sewer drain, he was tiny and frail. His body, having just shed its skin, was incredibly weak, and he was barely clinging to life.

I saved him, and I raised him for twelve years.

Raising a snake took immense energy, resources, and money. Raising a sick snake was adding insult to injury. And being an unfavored, penniless person? That was like adding insult to injury and then some.

Thankfully, Raven grew up healthy. His bronzed, muscular lines curved smoothly down, outlining his taut waist, yet his snake form kept him from looking bulky, instead giving him a certain delicate grace.

Many in my family said I’d struck gold, finding such a handsome snake-shifter.

I’d just smile, never saying a word.

Only I truly understood the bitter reality of our bond. Raven rarely initiated physical contact with me.

Even when I had to train for my snake-bonding rituals, he rarely cooperated.

He'd always be cold-faced, impatiently wrapping himself around my arm, his scales grating painfully against my skin.

I constantly reassured myself that snakes were cold-blooded, and that was why he didn't want to be affectionate with me.

Until that day I saw him, his face flushed, carefully wrapping himself around my sister Lana’s calf, softly asking her, "Does it hurt?"

Lana looked helpless, gently pushing his head away.

"Raven, I know you like me, but you’re my sister’s companion. This isn’t right for us."

His face instantly hardened, and he scoffed.

"I don't care. I only like you. Who would ever like that short little freak?"

Lana tried to protest further, but Raven moved closer, wrapping around her waist, his scales smoothed against her, playfully tickling her.

Raven was *flirting*.

Scene after scene from the past twelve years flashed through my mind. Raven rarely smiled, but during family dinners, sitting across from me, his face always held a faint smile.

Looking back now, he was never looking at me. He was looking at my sister, Lana, beside me.

The signs had been there all along, but I had just been too blind to see them.

I had thought that my adopting this sickly little snake was a mutual rescue, a fate that brought us together.

But I never imagined it was precisely because I was a freak that he disliked me.

It felt like my heart was being squeezed. That tiny flicker of hope I’d harbored for years, which used to tickle my heart, suddenly sharpened into a blade, piercing right through me.