entire body as if he weren’t the only one intoxicated on their nature. “It’s an image I’ve been confronted with all my life, most times with admiration but a few times with slurs. Either way, it’s not me.”
She stood fully and walked away from him. Xander moved to intercept her.
“Wait, what did I say?” he asked.
She put a hand on his chest, her thumb caressing the scale pattern there. “It’s not you. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Kryssa, you can talk to me about anything, you know that. Why do you always stop or turn away? If I have a misconception, correct it. If it’s something else, just tell me. If it’s Landon—”
She grasped his hips, her hands gripping the waistband of his jeans. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and growled. His heart sped up, flight or fight instinct and libido warring for control of his next movements. He kept his place.
“I don’t want to talk about Landon. This isn’t about him.”
Xander forced his voice to be calm. “Isn’t it? Everything is built around the sabbatical, and the sabbatical is built around the breakup, and the breakup was Landon’s fault. All of this, not wanting to come here, not leaving your office even for a drink, not wanting to have the discussion, all of it is about him.”
The open timer beeped, and she let him go. “One of those assumptions is incorrect, but I’m not going to have this conversation without food.”
Xander grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the cookie sheet. He arranged the steaming glazed confection on plates, swallowing several times to get his heart out of his throat. Things had changed quickly, like they could with Kryssa, but usually that change didn’t come his way. The groundwork had been laid, and he had to follow through or let go, and he could only conceive of one of those. The dragon on his skin rippled, the muscles in his back tight but with the wrong kind of tension now.
“Should I take them to the table?” he asked.
Kryssa pulled a plate closer and began to pick at the pancakes. “I was born with my scales. The spinal dusting I have all the time unless I shift them away. But they also cover the sides of my neck, along my collarbone, and across my hips to my pelvis whenever I’m wet.”
Statue stillness struck him, and he literally couldn’t think for fifteen seconds beyond the images in his head. “Whenever you’re wet…I’m going to be trapped in visuals of that for a while,” he confessed.
“I know. The Fae-blooded are fun that way. But it also serves my point.” She snagged a fork and gathered up a golden fruit-topped bite. “I can’t let you starve while in brain lock. Open up.”
He complied, moving the decadent treat over his tongue with a moan. “They came out perfect.” He reached out and brushed his fingers along her collarbone. “What was I wrong about?”
She fed herself with a sigh. “Being born with scales along the erogenous zones indicates an early and intense puberty that cycles a few times before it’s done with you. At its peak, my pheromone levels were so high even Dominic avoided me ten days out of every month for more than a year. It’s why I’m so good at teleconferencing when I travel.” She grabbed her plate and walked to the table.
“Sexual friendships are all I had for a long stretch, and I got rather good at knowing who could take it and who couldn’t.” She looked up at him as he sat across from her. “Avoiding the conversation isn’t about him; it’s about you, Xander.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I’ve seen you happy with Caleb when your brothers aren’t on your case. But you want more than what you have with him, not less, and less is all I have to offer. A ‘friends with benefits’ relationship is what’s on the table, and you’re not built for it.”
“You don’t know that,” he countered. “I’ve had intimate friendships before. The Fae barely know how to have any other kind, and one-fourth
She stood fully and walked away from him. Xander moved to intercept her.
“Wait, what did I say?” he asked.
She put a hand on his chest, her thumb caressing the scale pattern there. “It’s not you. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Kryssa, you can talk to me about anything, you know that. Why do you always stop or turn away? If I have a misconception, correct it. If it’s something else, just tell me. If it’s Landon—”
She grasped his hips, her hands gripping the waistband of his jeans. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and growled. His heart sped up, flight or fight instinct and libido warring for control of his next movements. He kept his place.
“I don’t want to talk about Landon. This isn’t about him.”
Xander forced his voice to be calm. “Isn’t it? Everything is built around the sabbatical, and the sabbatical is built around the breakup, and the breakup was Landon’s fault. All of this, not wanting to come here, not leaving your office even for a drink, not wanting to have the discussion, all of it is about him.”
The open timer beeped, and she let him go. “One of those assumptions is incorrect, but I’m not going to have this conversation without food.”
Xander grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the cookie sheet. He arranged the steaming glazed confection on plates, swallowing several times to get his heart out of his throat. Things had changed quickly, like they could with Kryssa, but usually that change didn’t come his way. The groundwork had been laid, and he had to follow through or let go, and he could only conceive of one of those. The dragon on his skin rippled, the muscles in his back tight but with the wrong kind of tension now.
“Should I take them to the table?” he asked.
Kryssa pulled a plate closer and began to pick at the pancakes. “I was born with my scales. The spinal dusting I have all the time unless I shift them away. But they also cover the sides of my neck, along my collarbone, and across my hips to my pelvis whenever I’m wet.”
Statue stillness struck him, and he literally couldn’t think for fifteen seconds beyond the images in his head. “Whenever you’re wet…I’m going to be trapped in visuals of that for a while,” he confessed.
“I know. The Fae-blooded are fun that way. But it also serves my point.” She snagged a fork and gathered up a golden fruit-topped bite. “I can’t let you starve while in brain lock. Open up.”
He complied, moving the decadent treat over his tongue with a moan. “They came out perfect.” He reached out and brushed his fingers along her collarbone. “What was I wrong about?”
She fed herself with a sigh. “Being born with scales along the erogenous zones indicates an early and intense puberty that cycles a few times before it’s done with you. At its peak, my pheromone levels were so high even Dominic avoided me ten days out of every month for more than a year. It’s why I’m so good at teleconferencing when I travel.” She grabbed her plate and walked to the table.
“Sexual friendships are all I had for a long stretch, and I got rather good at knowing who could take it and who couldn’t.” She looked up at him as he sat across from her. “Avoiding the conversation isn’t about him; it’s about you, Xander.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I’ve seen you happy with Caleb when your brothers aren’t on your case. But you want more than what you have with him, not less, and less is all I have to offer. A ‘friends with benefits’ relationship is what’s on the table, and you’re not built for it.”
“You don’t know that,” he countered. “I’ve had intimate friendships before. The Fae barely know how to have any other kind, and one-fourth
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