Starglow Basin basura

soto spent several days figuring out where best to put @Saya.

she had bria, and he was under the impression she was eager to prove it.

finally, her purpose comes to him and he sets out among the saguaro with a low croon, summoning the pretty guera for what he felt was a very clever task.

At his call, Saya emerges with a languid grace, each step measured and deliberate as she slips from the shadows of the basin's cavern line. Her golden pelt shimmers in the low light, her movements a slow, controlled sway that speaks to her beauty—untainted, flawless, something bred to be adored.

With a soft hum, a small gesture of submission, she acknowledges Soto’s command without a word, her gaze lowered just enough to show respect while allowing her to glimpse him through her lashes. She is poised, silent, awaiting his next directive, aware of her place and refusing to speak unless he demands it. The air between them thickens, filled with unspoken tension, as she settles with a quiet reverence, ready for whatever he might ask of her.

once again, soto is struck by how very pretty saya is. she must know it, as she walks through camp with the languid elegance of a swan. he wonders which man will lay claim to her first; which man will warm her hearth and then her thighs with his virility.

soto enjoys denying himself the pleasure. but he can't ignore that the jaguar juarez has made himself home in the back of his brother's mind ever since his death. the jaguar's ghost has company: niño. they titter and conspire together.

soto shakes the vision of them away.

tengo un trabajo para ti. soto starts, direct as always. una manera de demostrar tu valía ante verapaz.

in other words, a way to land in soto's good graces.

Saya smiles at him, a slow, almost lazy curve of her lips that feels like the brush of silk. She leans closer, her eyes glittering with a mixture of warmth and wonder. A task for her? Saya doesn't remember the last time she's had to do anything. It's exciting to have a task for herself. 

Lo que quieras, Soto, she murmurs, voice soft and honeyed, as though coaxing him to reveal secrets he'd never let slip in the cold light of day. Estoy aquí para servir a Verapaz.

to lesser men, that smile would be disarming. it's slow and elegant, like the soft curve of her hips.

soto feels a knot below his stomach harden.  i'd fuck her, purls the jaguar occupying the darker thresholds of his mind. behind the jaguar, niño's specter titters in agreement. soto does not need to imagine what el toro would do to her.

she is good, he will give her that. but she will not undo him so easily.

whatever you want, soto -- she practically purrs. but she's no housecat -- she's a puma. soto's seen what pumas do to wolves.

tenemos dos cautivos aquí. he pauses to read her reaction before continuing. una bruja, y un niño. motioning to where the captives are kept, soto continues.

planeo matar a la bruja. te dejo al niño a ti. matarlo o conservarlo. o torturarlo. es tu decision. .

Saya's eyes flicker, a sharp glint brightening her gaze as she savors the words. Her own toy? Gosh, what a lucky girl Saya was. She remembers when her Papi gave her, her first toy. Chills ran down her spine, electrifying her core. 

Her tongue ran over her lips. Gold dripped from her words, hot and sparkling, Lo que sea para ti, Soto, she replies in a low, sultry tone. But the softness in her tone belies the truth—the quiet ferocity of a predator ready to pounce.

Her gaze drifts to where the captives are held, eyes settling on the boy with an expression that suggests she’s already deciding his fate.

Se encargará de él. ¿Hay algo que deba saber para hacerlo retorcerse? she asks gently, though her resolve is confident.

again, that molten promise. soto savors it, following saya's gaze to the captives.

once, soto believed that children's souls were to be protected at all costs. he believed that when he first set eyes on safiya.

but that was before khusobek took him captive, exposing him to brutality he'd never tasted before. there, on the receiving end, soto's worldviews had shifted.

that was before octavio niiño sanchez was ripped to fucking shreds at his doorstep. mother mary fucking weeps.

there's ice in her glittering gaze. soto marvels it and wonders if he's signed the boy's death warrant.

whatever; an eye for an eye, a boy for niño.

give those inbred sandfuckers a real taste of cartel vengeance.

anything i should know? no. come tu corazón.

Saya doesn’t flinch, her glittering gaze locked onto Soto's as she slowly lowers herself into a deep bow. The silence between them thickens, tense, yet weighted with understanding. There is no hesitation, no question of her resolve—only the molten promise they share in silence.

When she rises, her eyes flick to the captives, then back to Soto, a shadow of icy determination etched across her delicate features. She doesn't need to say it; the vow radiates from her stillness, as sharp and deadly as any blade. Her message is clear: one way or another, she will finish this.

There is a darkness there, a willingness to descend as deeply as he.

it is sealed. soto has sent a fox into the hen's house. she does not need to show her teeth for soto to know she vows to put them to good use.

he hopes for nokht his passing is peaceful -- and it is then a dark thought jostles to the forefront. it's the jaguar, with his bristling insistence that softness is a feminine trait.

he is a man, the jaguar reminds him.

soto watches la guera make herself familiar with the captive's quarters, and thinks he's never seen something so malevolently beautiful.