A Way to a Dragon’s Heart (5 page)

Kryssa cleared her throat as she held him. “That’s a real good question. And as soon as I have a good answer, I’ll get back to you.”

He ran a hand along her back and took a deep breath. “It’s a deal. But when you answer, I’ll probably have other questions to go with it.”

She nodded. “Figures.”

Xander gave a soft laugh and pulled back so their eyes met. “Thanks for talking me down from the ledge on all of this.”

“You’re welcome, and I’m sorry.”

Xander’s brow creased. “For not being able to give me an answer?”

“No, for confusing things between us and not being able to give you an answer that would make it clearer.” She looked down. “We’ve put the idea of a casual relationship on the table at the same time you’re trying to get out of one with Caleb. You don’t need this right now. I’m the one you usually talk to about all of this. Who do you talk to about me?”

Xander shook his head and gave a small smile. “Honestly? Caleb. He thinks we should have started sleeping together years ago, probably because it would take pressure off of him, right?”

Great, just great. She really was Caleb. Some life lessons just refused to give up.

Chapter Four

“Do you prefer Dragon over Dragoness?” Xander looked over the stainless steel mixing bowl pressed to his chest as he asked. The chilly metal had warmed to his body temperature, the heat of his bare chest permeating the thin apron front.

He worked the batter in sure efficient strokes but with no more thought than breathing. It made the tiny muscles in his stirring arm ripple, and the black scaled dragon tattoo danced with the effort. They’d been talking about his ink work since starting a celebratory confectionary spree for finishing the last of her paperwork at o’dark in the morning. Now the time had come for a proper breakfast to go with the sunlight finally peeking through the trees.

Xander had tried to find ways to express what it meant to have her there, ready to stick it out until everything with Caleb got settled. Every time he mentioned it, it only reminded her how much time she’d be away from the office, and she seemed anxious even as she smiled. He’d decided to shelve the discussion and turned to cooking instead to show his appreciation.

It worked wonders.

“Dragon is a gender neutral term unless you’re talking about the matriarch of a clan. As I’m not destined for matriarch status I’ll never have to worry about the distinction; I’m just a plain ole dragon. However, since you were asking about preference, I prefer to be called by name.” Her deft fingers continued to slice the ripe peaches that would top the pancakes and be used for drinks later. Dumping a handful into the chilled bowl, she casually licked the sticky juice from her wrists in slow, thorough strokes of her tongue. “I’m not all that particular about the name though; Kryssa, Krys, Ryssa, boss, mistress, hey you, and on occasion baby girl if I’m related to the speaker or you’re Caitlin.”

It took him a moment to stop staring as she licked another line of juice. “So I can’t call you baby girl? That’s not fair. Caitlin gets all the BFF fun.”

“Caitlin’s got seniority.” She watched him flip the back row of pancakes on the griddle and then transfer the front row to a cooling rack on a cookie sheet. The cotton full front apron protected his bare skin from any splatter, but it left the rest of him decadently bare, and he smiled every time he caught her studying the play of light on his skin and the ink there.

“Do you always cook shirtless?” she asked. “Because it’s a really good look; jeans and an apron are all anyone really needs anyway.” She offered him a peach slice, and he sucked the juice from her fingers as he took it in his mouth.

“I should make all of our meals shirtless. Got it.” He started transferring the back row. “So when do
I
get senior benefits?”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

He ladled batter onto the griddle and cringed. “I didn’t mean it like that, Krys. I wasn’t bringing it up again.”

“Hey.” She bumped him with her hip, distorting one of the pancakes as the ladle moved. “I didn’t mean it that way either. Well, I meant it
that
way, but I didn’t mean that
you
meant it that way.”

Xander laughed and shook his head. “It’s much too early because that made perfect sense.”

“Good.” She pulled out a previously opened bag of brown sugar and frowned. “Just a second, I have to break this up.” Her back flexed and bunched as she worked the hardened chunks of dried sugar in the bag with her hands.

Xander filled a measuring cup with water as an excuse to step closer and check her progress. The granules were nearly fine again, barely needing to be remoistened in the microwave. “If I were baking with that, I wouldn’t bother with the extra step.”

She smiled and set the bag and water side-by-side in the microwave while he removed the last batch of pancakes from the griddle. A minute later, with his part of the work done, he ducked out of the apron and set it aside, leaning on the counter to watch her pour the softened sugar over the peaches. “That you can break that up with your bare hands is kinda scary-hot, just for the record.”

Kryssa laughed and tossed in a good dose of cinnamon over the fruit and brown sugar, combining the mixture with her hands. “Yeah, you’re just turned on by the reminder that I could totally take you.”

Xander knew better than to smile too broadly, but it was hard to take that seriously from someone a head shorter than him, wearing a bright white Grecian halter top and denim cut-offs. The tiny, blue iridescent scales at the back of her neck and lining her spine however made it much more believable. They gleamed in the sunlight pouring through the eight foot glass doors and overhead skylight, changing from cerulean to amethyst like the field of bluebells just behind the cabin toward the woods.

“Pound for pound you could definitely take me. But since most Therians could take a small tank and everyone inside, I find my masculinity still quite intact.” He walked up behind her and pulled one of the tight spiral curls piled atop her head with some feminine contraption or other, watching it spring back in place. “So you should know if I offer to wrestle it’s not a tactic to soothe my ego.”

“Good to know.” She arranged the slices on the pancakes and looked back at him. “You do know everything that might sound like we’re having the sex talk again isn’t a bad thing, right? You can’t look all guilty and caught every time an innuendo is let loose. Between the two of us, you’d never look any other way.”

“I do see your point.” He laughed and captured another curl. “I just don’t want you to think I’m pushing.” His smile faltered. “You don’t think I’m pushing, do you?”

“No, Xander.” She sighed and dropped her head. “You know this might all be a little easier if we could dial down your tension a bit. You should stop playing with my hair and just go ahead and do what you really want to do right now.”

His body went still with startled caution. “What do you think I want to do?”

She picked up the tea towel and wiped her hands. “You left that wide open, and it would serve you right if I ran with it so I could make you blush and lick your cheek to taste the blood beneath your skin. But as it turns out, my pancake decorating has me rather Zen, so I’ll be nice.” Stepping around him, she took the cookie sheet to the wall oven and set the timer. “You wanted to touch my scales. You’ve wanted to since I got out of the shower and you saw them.” Her hands went to her hips as she faced him. “You touched my hair a dozen times in the last two hours trying
not
to touch my scales.”

Well, damn, he’d been more obvious than he thought. “I know they’re supposed to be sensitive. I didn’t want to offend you.” His back unconsciously bunched and relaxed, moving the sinuous creature inked around his torso. “I’m human enough that it seemed rude to ask.”

“But you’re Fae enough that the curiosity is killing you. Xander…” She closed the distance between them, placing her hands on his chest. “It’s sweet that you want to try, but it’s going to be a long day if we go the sensitive avoidance approach. We’ll both be much happier if you just touch them now and ask what you’re going to ask to get it out of the way. If I minded, I would have hidden them before you saw them.”

She had a point. Therian breeds who tended to gain small tells to their nature at puberty learned to hide them by shifting slightly, but the Therian Pride Movement had made the display of scales, feathers or spots a badge of honor in most places.

“Whoops.” She moved her hands, looking at the sugary marks left on his chest. “Sorry, thought I got it all.” Her tongue came out, and she captured the sugar crystals from his skin. Three passes of her tongue, and he was good as new. She stepped to the sink to wash her hands.

Xander looked down at his chest. “If you keep licking on me and threatening to lick me, we really might have to have that talk sooner than later.”

“Duly noted. Now come over here and Fae up! Get it all out of your system.” She leaned over the island’s slate countertop and rested her forehead on loose curled fists still tangled in the towel used to dry them.

It exposed the length of her back in full, the two tiny ties of the shirt a bare distraction from the line of color down her spine. The efficiency of the pose took nothing from the sexual allure of it. She waited for him to step up and examine at his leisure, but with the feel of her mouth still on his skin, his mind saw a host of other things before him.

“Is there anything I shouldn’t do, or some way I shouldn’t touch them?” he asked.

“You can’t hurt me unless you deliberately try. They’re sensitive but not fragile or tender. Treat them like skin. Beyond that, follow your Fae bliss until you’re satisfied.”

He laughed a deep cleansing laugh. “You do offer the most dangerous things.” He shook his head and reached out to caress the back of her neck.

They were soft, as smooth as glass, and incredibly warm to the touch as his fingers glided over them. He stroked his hand down her back several times and then let the sensation fully pull him in to the discovery of it all. Lighter touches arched her back; firmer ones stretched her torso and lifted her bottom. Both changed her breathing, and he searched for a pattern in it. Her soft sounds and movements had him hard and ready. The next firm touch nestled him flush to the curve of her backside as it lifted and he stepped into her without a second thought. One hand grasped her hip; the other played over her scales as his pelvis rocked against her and she rocked back.

“They’re changing colors.” His voice was deep and thick but clear.

“Arousal patterns. They show the fertility stage and level of receptiveness.”

“Okay.” He took several deep breaths. ‘I think I might have followed my bliss a little too far.”

“We’re still dressed and coherent; you’re fine. Feel free to—” Her breath became a hiss when he stepped back and licked from the middle of her back toward her neck.

“They changed again. Does that mean you’re more receptive?”

He thought the amusement in his voice would earn him an elbow to the ribs, but she looked over her shoulder at him with her own amused yet sensuous smile. “Yes, that’s what it means. It also means I’m highly fertile too so just standing the way we were could require a paternity test in a few months.”

He laughed, his fingers playing down her spine. “I’ll take my chances. This is singularly the most fascinating and arousing exploration I’ve ever had the chance to make.”

No sound escaped to indicate laughter, but she undulated beneath his hands in what his mind could only describe as serpentine mirth.

“I empathize. Penises were just as odd and fascinating to me the first several dozen times I got to just explore.”

He licked another line along her scales. “Same here. I assumed they were all like mine, more or less. Imagine my delighted surprise at the variety.”

She was breathless, but he understood her next words just the same.

“And our common ground grows. But empathy, exploration, and possible receptiveness aside, you should stop while you can. The timer is going to go off in two minutes, and that’s neither enough time to have our discussion nor can I think of a single man who would want that kind of pressure to do his best, even if we could.”

He pressed his lips to her back and laughed. “That
is
a lot of pressure. And it’s not the kind of deadline I want to beat in any case, conversation aside.” He made a little room between them and tried to reel in his thoughts. It would be considered rude to stop touching her all at once—not that he could have if he wanted to—but until he did, it would be hard to sober up.

He rubbed his cheek along the scales, the continual reminder of her Dragon nature. “Why don’t you like my tattoo?”

Kryssa rose up on her hands, and Xander lifted his head. She turned to look at him but kept her back at his disposal. His breath caught at the large dark eyes, a ring of gold sparkling around swollen shimmering pupils.

“I like it just fine. It looks good on you, and the detail is extraordinary.” She shrugged, and the movement rippled down her 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.”