CHAPTER 34: THE SNAKE FIGHT

The snake struck.

The snake lunged, and its fangs sank into the fabric of Logan’s pants, missing flesh by mere inches. He stumbled back, dragging the snake with him as it clung.

Jean screamed, "Logan! Oh my God!"

With reflexes sharpened by adrenaline, Logan kicked, trying to shake it off. The snake hit the ground and recoiled, hissing and rising again for a second strike.

This time, it aimed directly at him.

Without thinking, Logan grabbed a fallen branch beside him and swung hard... once, twice. The viper dodged the first blow, but the second strike landed squarely, knocking it back.

It slithered quickly into an aggressive coil, tongue flicking as it prepared again.

Jean grabbed a sharper stick nearby. "Move!"

She tossed it to Logan, and he caught it just in time to parry the next strike. With a grunt, he jabbed forward, landing the sharpened tip against the snake’s neck.

The creature writhed, twisted, then finally stilled.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The sound of their heavy breaths filled the space.

Jean rushed forward, grabbing Logan’s arms. "Are you okay? Did it bite you?"

He looked down, pulling up his pant leg. The skin was scratched, but not punctured. "No. It just grazed me."

Jean let out a relieved sigh, but her fingers were trembling. "You idiot. You could’ve died!"

Logan gave her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, well... I figured you’d miss me."

Jean shoved his shoulder. "You’re intolerable."

He winced in mock pain. "Ow. Wounded again."

Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Jean’s lips as she looked down at the dead snake. "That was insane."

He stepped closer. "But you’re safe."

She didn’t respond... just nodded, her eyes briefly meeting his before glancing away.

"Let’s get out of here before its friends show up," he said.

"Agreed."

Logan nudged the lifeless snake with his stick. "You think we can eat this thing?"

Jean crouched next to it, inspecting the body. "Technically, yes. Snake meat is edible. It’s high in protein."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Is that a yes?"

Jean gave a small nod. "Yes, but we’ll have to be careful. We need to skin it, clean it properly, and cook it thoroughly. The venom is in the head... not the meat but I’m not taking any chances."

Logan looked at the forest behind them, then back at Jean. "So... we’re having a snake for dinner?"

She smirked faintly. "Bon appétit, Kingsley."

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Jean crouched by the fire pit, pulling the snake closer with a stick. "We have to cut off the head first. That’s where the venom glands are... can’t risk anything." Her voice was calm, focused, like she’d done this before. Logan stood beside her, watching as she used a sharp-edged stone to sever the head, tossing it far into the trees.

"Okay..." she muttered, dragging the body over a flat rock. "Now we skin it." She made a careful incision along the belly. Her hands were steady, her jaw tight with concentration. She peeled the scaly skin back like a professional.

Logan just stared. Not at the snake. At her.

The way her brows furrowed. The way she bit the inside of her cheek when the blade slipped slightly. The way she muttered instructions to herself and moved like she belonged there... fierce, capable, and totally unaware of how much space she was taking up in his head.

He swallowed hard.

Why the hell did I jump in front of that snake like some idiot hero?

She doesn’t even trust you, Logan.

He shifted back, running a hand through his hair, feeling the sting on his arm from where the snake had lunged... just missed. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

Jean looked up. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, forcing a smirk. "Just wondering if you’re planning to open a five-star jungle restaurant."

She rolled her eyes. "If I did, you’d still complain about the menu."

"I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat it," he countered, folding his arms.

Once she was done skinning, Jean rinsed the meat in some clean water they had collected earlier, then skewered the pieces on long twigs. "It’ll take a while to cook. We’ll need to keep rotating it so it doesn’t burn."

Logan sat down across from her by the fire, watching the flames crackle and cook the underside of the snake meat. The scent of woodsmoke filled the air.

He stole another glance at her.

Damn her for still having this effect on him after all these years.

And damn himself for letting her.

Jean glanced up just as Logan muttered under his breath again and shifted uncomfortably.

Her brows furrowed. "Logan."

He looked at her, cautious. "Yeah?"

"Open your shirt."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Adams?"

"I’m not going to repeat myself, Kingsley. Open your damn shirt."

His eyes widened, lips twitching into something smug. "Why do you want me to open my shirt? You want to do... that now? Out here, while the snake’s still roasting?"

Jean dropped the stick she was using to turn the meat and shot him a death glare. "Are you kidding me? Seriously? That’s where your mind goes?"

He shrugged, that arrogant grin still playing on his face. "I mean... the request came out of nowhere."

"Go jump into the gutter!"

Logan looks around him, "I don’t see one here."

Jean stood, closing the space between them with a sigh of pure frustration. "I saw you curse under your breath."

He stood up straight, preparing himself as she sat close to him. Her eyes had this worry but her mouth was still sharp.

"You winced. You jumped in front of a damn snake, Logan. I need to see if it got you. Snake bites aren’t always instant in reaction, and the fang might’ve scratched you when you pushed me back. So, open. Your. Shirt."

He blinked, the smirk finally dropping. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," she mimicked sarcastically.

Grumbling something under his breath, Logan finally unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a long, shallow red scrape across his ribs. Jean sucked in a breath and knelt in front of him, inspecting it carefully.

"It’s not a bite," she muttered. "But it’s deep enough to get infected if we don’t clean it."

"Glad to know you care," he said dryly, trying to act unfazed.

Jean paused, then looked up at him, her voice soft but sharp. "Don’t mistake survival instincts for affection."

Logan chuckled under his breath. "Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare."

Dare he did.