Kiss of the Basilisk by Lindsay StraubeStar Rating:
Spice Level:
Series: Split or Swallow #1
Published by Bloom Books on 02/25/2025
Genres: Fiction, Fantasy, High Fantasy, Romance, Paranormal Romance, Romantasy
Format: Kindle (525 Pages) đź“– Purchased
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Temperance Verus has never been kissed—not exactly ideal for a girl competing in the palace's most closely watched matchmaking ritual. Every year, a select group is invited to bond with the realm's magical basilisks and train in the art of charm, poise, and influence. The prize? A chance to win the prince's favor—and a life of privilege.
Tem expects rules, gowns, and etiquette.
She doesn't expect her assigned partner to be Caspen—the Serpent King, commanding, mysterious, and anything but safe. As he pushes her to unlock the strength she never knew she had, Tem finds herself drawn into something deeper, stranger, and far more powerful than royal approval.
But not all bonds are built for the court, and some secrets are meant to break them.
About fifteen years ago, a friend of mine showed up at my house with a DVD in hand. (Stay with me—I promise this story relates to this utterly unhinged book filled with basilisk banging.)
The movie in question: Gentlemen Broncos. And if you’ve seen this cinematic fever dream, you probably know where I’m going with this. If you haven’t—add it to your watch list—you can thank me later.
For the record, I watched all 90 Yeast-Lord-filled minutes of Gentlemen Broncos. I didn’t fall asleep. I didn’t pause to pee. I’m not entirely sure I blinked—or breathed. I was utterly transfixed because this movie was so bad that—dare I say—it became good?
(Stay with me. We’re almost back to the serpentine sexploitation.)
When the credits rolled, I sat—staring at the screen in silence for what felt like two decades—but was probably less than five minutes. I was stupefied. Flabbergasted. Befuddled. Dumbfounded. Flummoxed, even. I was borderline despondent, and for possibly the first time in my life, I. had. no. words.
Finally I whispered:
WHAT. THE F*CK. DID I. JUST. WATCH?
That feeling right there? That swirling, intoxicating cocktail of revulsion and infatuation, garnished with a small existential crisis? That’s exactly how I felt when I reached the end of Kiss of the Basilisk.
I read the last words, I sat on my couch in stunned silence—clutching my Kindle like a set of imaginary pearls.
Finally I whispered:
WHAT. THE F*CK. DID I. JUST. READ?
I hated it. But I also kinda loved it. I’m so conflicted!
My 2.5-star rating feels both far too low and wildly too high. But I finished this beast of a book—all 525 pages of it. And that’s saying something, because I almost DNF’d this “snake smut” at least eight times.
Here’s what I endured:
- Insta-love × 2—one basilisk shifter, one human prince)
- Magical…um…cum vibrators?
- Basilisk sex—lots of it—like a lot-a lot
- Venom spitting and swallowing—don’t ask
- A ritualistic basilisk orgy
- The FMC’s pelvis splitting in two from too much snake sex (see basilisk orgy above)
- And, for variety, some regular-old human sex, right at the very end—y’know, just to keep things “normal”
Somewhere in there, there was a smattering of plot.
Kiss of the Basilisk drops us into a patriarchal world where marriage isn’t about love—it’s about survival. At twenty, girls born the same year as the prince get shipped off to a bizarrely sexy boot camp run by shape-shifting basilisks. The goal? Train them into pliant, irresistible competitors who will claw their way toward a royal wedding ring.
Enter Temperance (Tem), our never-been-kissed underdog heroine. She’s nervous, awkward, and completely out of her depth. But under all that trembling innocence simmers a streak of curiosity and defiance. Tem doesn’t know how to play the game, but she does know how to ask why—and that single word makes her dangerous in a system built on obedience.
Then there’s Caspen, the Serpent King, who’s been coaching winners for centuries. He’s ancient, powerful, terrifyingly hot—and instantly too invested in Tem. He’s supposed to mold her into the perfect seductress for someone else, but instead finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. Predator, protector, forbidden lover—Caspen is all of these at once, and Tem keeps cracking his polished, predatory mask to reveal glimpses of something startlingly tender.
On the other side, we’ve got Leo, the charming crown prince every girl has been raised to want. He’s warm, boyish, and disarmingly sincere—the kind of guy who makes you feel safe even as you remember he’s literally the prize at the end of this Hunger Games-meets-seduction-camp circus. His easy charm hides a quieter struggle: the pull between the role he’s been trapped in and the vulnerable person Tem actually sees.
As Tem claws her way through the competition, she’s caught in a messy love triangle: Leo, the golden human prince she’s supposed to want, and Caspen, the dangerous serpent king who tempts her toward rebellion. But beneath the lust and longing simmers Tem’s most dangerous craving of all—her own independence.
If someone stripped out two-thirds of the gratuitous, repetitive sex scenes and gave this book a real edit, it could’ve been good. Maybe even great. It also would have been about 150 pages long.
And yet…
In the last third of the book, amid the avalanche of possessive, abusive love interests and scaly orgies, something strange happened: an actual plot emerged. And—as much as it pains me to write this—it wasn’t half bad.
The true MVP, though? Gabriel. That boy was pure comedy gold. Tem’s ride-or-die, her only semi-healthy relationship, and the lone ray of sunshine in a cast that’s about as charming as a wet sock. He kept me reading when I wanted to bleach my eyeballs and chuck my Kindle into the trash.
I will say that Leo eventually grew on me. And while he was marginally less toxic than Caspan the Abusive, that’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.
So, will I read the next book?
You bet your sweet ass I will.
It’s a literary train wreck, and I cannot look away. Besides—you don’t stumble across potential cult classics like this every day.
