14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
A Public Display
Sundar
The private booth at Fusion feels both too large and too small for my tail, which currently coils beneath the table in nervous loops. I’ve arrived early—embarrassingly early—but centuries of temple guardian training haven’t prepared me for the peculiar customs of modern dating, and I most certainly didn’t want to ruin it by being late.
I find myself staring at the intricate wood patterns of the table, getting more and more lost in my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to look around, to actually take in this restaurant Aubrey thoughtfully chose.
It shows such consideration in her selection—the kind of place where both humans and monsters can feel comfortable.
The restaurant has made genuine accommodations for its supernatural clientèle. Beyond the practical considerations like lower tables for certain fae species, temperature-controlled sections for elementals, and booths wide enough for tails and wings, they’ve crafted a menu that truly understands monster palates.
I’ve watched servers carry past dishes that blend traditional human cuisine with creative alternatives for different species’ needs. A group nearby shares an innovative vegetarian feast, the colors and arrangements suggesting both human and fae influences.
Then I notice a werewolf, proudly displaying his natural hybrid form, ears and tail visible, dining with his human date. She’s laughing at something he’s said, completely at ease with the way his ears occasionally twitch in response to the restaurant’s noise. They look… normal. Happy.
Perhaps Aubrey and I could have that too, that simple joy of being together in public without—
Her scent hits me then, and every scale on my body tingles with awareness. She’s here, and suddenly I’m absurdly conscious of how my tail is arranged, whether my cobra hood is lying flat enough, if my chosen attire—a charcoal dress shirt paired with a crimson sash around my waist—is appropriate for such an establishment.
All those thoughts vanish when I see her. She’s wearing a deep emerald dress that makes her eyes sparkle, the fabric swirling around her legs. Her hair falls in soft waves, and her smile, which is slightly nervous but bright with anticipation, makes my chest tight with feelings I’m still learning to name.
“Hi,” she says, sliding into the booth. “Sorry if I’m late. I had a minor crisis involving Maggie, three different pairs of heels, and way too much eyeshadow that had to be redone. Though honestly? I think she was more nervous than I was.”
My tail, operating on instinct rather than propriety, immediately seeks her out, brushing against her bare ankle. Her slight shiver of response makes my pupils dilate.
“You are beautiful,” I tell her.
“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” she says, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Though I have to admit, it’s weird seeing you without some dusty artifact in your hands.”
“I considered bringing one along. For comfort.” The joke feels clumsy on my tongue, but her resulting laugh makes it worthwhile. “But I thought perhaps on our first proper date, we could focus on matters beyond work.”
“Our first proper date,” she echoes, something soft and wandering in her voice. “God, that sounds weird to say out loud. Good weird! But definitely weird.” She glances around the elegant space. “Man. This place is gorgeous. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, but I read some reviews that said they really understand different species’ needs and—”
“It’s perfect,” I interrupt, touched by her thoughtfulness. “Though, to be honest, I’m more interested in my company than the venue.”
The waitress appears then, and I notice how Aubrey straightens slightly, as if preparing for judgment. But the young woman merely smiles and offers wine recommendations. As she describes a particularly interesting blend, I watch Aubrey relax, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the tablecloth that my tail aches to follow.
“What do you think?” Aubrey asks, and I realize I’ve missed the entire conversation. “About the Syrah?”
“I trust your judgment completely,” I tell her, which earns me one of those smiles that makes my cobra hood threaten to flare. She has no idea how much power she holds over me with just a quirk of her lips.
After the waitress leaves, Aubrey asks in a whisper. “So, is this weird for you? Being out in public like this? Because I keep catching people trying to secretly watch us, and I can’t tell if it’s because you’re incredibly hot or because they’re waiting to see if I’m about to become snake food.”
Her casual compliment catches me off guard. “Incredibly hot?”
“Oh please, like you don’t know exactly how impressive you are.”
I find my tail getting a little frisky now, making its way higher up her leg. “I believe you’re the one who’s impressive, Aubrey.” My tone dips lower. “And as for the stares, I find I don’t particularly care, so long as you’re beside me.”
Her blush deepens, but before either of us can continue down a path that might lead to a very public display, the waitress returns with our wine. I reluctantly withdraw my tail, though not before catching Aubrey’s quiet gasp of disappointment. It’s nice to know she’s as ravenous for me as I am for her.
As the waitress pours our wine, I notice Aubrey fidgeting with her napkin, a tell I’ve learned means she’s working up to saying something. Sure enough, once we’re alone again, she takes a deep breath.
“Can I ask you something? About naga customs?” Her fingers trace the stem of her wine glass nervously. “It’s just… Maggie’s been doing research for her monster dating consultation thing, and she mentioned something about tail touching being kind of a big deal? Like, socially significant?”
My throat tightens. Of course she would ask about this now, when we’re in public and I can’t properly demonstrate exactly how significant tail touching can be. “It is… intimate,” I manage, my voice rougher than intended. “Especially in public settings.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen slightly. “So when you keep brushing against my leg, that’s basically like…”
“Like claiming you in front of everyone? Yes.” The words come out more possessive than I intended, but her suppressed smile tells me she doesn’t mind.
She takes a quick sip of wine. “That’s good to know. For future reference. Anyway, maybe we should look at the menu before I say something inappropriate in this very nice restaurant.”
I hide my smile behind my own wine glass, watching as she fumbles with the menu. Her scent has shifted subtly, carrying notes of arousal that make me ache to wrap around her.
There will be plenty of time for that later, I’m sure.
“The fusion dishes look interesting,” she says, clearly trying to change the subject. “Though I have no idea what ‘ethically sourced dragon pepper’ means.”
“It means Mrs. Brindlewood’s garden is thriving again.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “Though I should warn you, her definition of ‘mild spice’ tends to differ from human standards.”
“Noted. No dragon peppers for the fragile human.” She looks up from the menu with a grin. “Though I think I’ve proven I can handle quite a bit of heat, wouldn’t you say?”
The way she looks at me through her lashes while making that comment has my tail coiling tighter beneath the table, aching to wrap around her once more. But before I can respond with something deeply inappropriate for public dining, movement catches my eye. A small shape darts under our table, followed by a distinct tugging sensation on my tail.
I look down to find a puppy—or what appears to be a puppy until its form shifts slightly, revealing patches of almost human-like skin. A were-child, barely old enough to control its shifts, has decided that my tail makes an excellent chew toy.
Aubrey’s hand flies to her mouth, but not before I catch her delighted grin. “Oh my God, that’s adorable.”
“I’m not certain ‘adorable’ is the word I’d use,” I say dryly, though I keep my tail deliberately still to avoid startling the child. The pup’s teeth can’t penetrate my scales, but its enthusiasm is admirable.
“Harrison!” A panicked whisper comes from nearby. “Harrison, you get back here right this instant!”
A young couple hurries over—the werewolf and his human wife I noticed earlier. The woman’s face is bright red with embarrassment.
“We are so sorry,” she says, while her husband tries to coax the pup out from under the table. “He’s just started shifting, and he gets excited around other supernatural beings. Harrison, sweetie, please stop trying to eat the nice naga’s tail.”
“It’s quite all right,” I assure them, though I’m more focused on the way Aubrey’s eyes have softened as she watches the child. “I’m sure he’s never seen a tail as long as mine.”
The joke, awkward as it is, breaks the tension. The werewolf husband grins, finally managing to scoop up his squirming son. “Yeah, he’s overly curious. The last time we went out, he was enamored with a dragon’s wing. Though I have to say, you’re taking this much better than she did.”
“Dragons can be rather precious about their appendages,” I agree, remembering Mrs. Brindlewood’s lengthy rants about proper wing etiquette—which really just amounts to: Don’t touch a dragon’s wings, ever.
“We should let you get back to your dinner,” the woman says, before the two usher their child back to their table.
“That was adorable,” Aubrey says once they’re gone, her eyes still sparkling. “Though I have to say, you handled that surprisingly well for someone who rearranges entire display cases when customers touch them without permission.”
“Those displays are meticulously organized,” I protest, though I know she’s teasing. “And some of those items are dangerous. Unlike my tail, which apparently makes an adequate teething toy.”
“Adequate? That kid was living his best life down there.” She takes another sip of wine, and I find myself tracking the movement of her throat. “It’s sweet, seeing families like that.”
“It sure is,” I say, trying to keep the longing out of my voice as I focus back on the menu.
Not much later, Aubrey orders something called “Mediterranean-Djinn Fusion” that arrives wreathed in blue flames, while I try a dish that blends traditional Thai spices with ingredients specifically cultivated for supernatural palates. The food is excellent, but I’m more captivated by how animated she becomes describing a history podcast about monster artifacts she’s been enjoying.
The wine disappears slowly as we talk, conversation flowing easier with each glass. She tells me about growing up in Houston, about her dreams of maybe going back to school someday. I share stories of my centuries as a guardian, carefully edited to make her laugh rather than remind her of the vast age difference between us. When she reaches across the table to steal a bite from my plate, the casual intimacy of it catches me off guard in the best way.
By the time we finish our meal, I’ve almost forgotten to be self-conscious about being in public. The restaurant has thinned out, the lighting has grown softer, and Aubrey’s cheeks are reddened beautifully from the wine. She’s in the middle of telling me about her grandmother’s infamous holiday cooking disasters when a shadow falls across our table.
“Aubrey?” The man’s voice is carefully neutral, but something in it makes Aubrey’s entire demeanor change. The warmth drains from her face as she looks up.
“Derek,” she says, and I instantly understand who this stranger is. “What are you doing here?”
Derek’s expensive suit and carefully styled hair speak of someone who puts great stock in appearances. But what truly draws my attention is how Aubrey seems to shrink in his presence, her earlier vibrancy nowhere to be found.
Something ancient and protective stirs in me. This man might not recognize the warning signals my body is unconsciously displaying—the slight flare of my hood, the way my pupils have shifted to slits—but his hindbrain does. He takes half a step back before catching himself.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Derek says to Aubrey, pointedly ignoring my presence. “This place seems a bit exotic for your tastes.”
The slight emphasis he places on ‘exotic’ makes my temperature drop several degrees. I haven’t felt this particular combination of rage and possessiveness since my temple guardian days.
Aubrey opens her mouth to respond, but I can sense her distress, feel how her pulse races with anxiety. And suddenly, I understand exactly why she left him, even if it left her in a desperate financial state.
I’ve spent centuries protecting precious things. Now, watching Derek’s calculated attempt to diminish her, I realize I’ve never had something quite so worth protecting.
And now it is time for this sad excuse of a man to know it.