Chapter 12

Zed

I can smell Tristan’s shitty hell-magic. Radar can, too. He must be skulking around the park, watching us, maybe hoping to interfere with our date. But I’m not going to let him ruin our perfect evening, so I make a beeline for Cari’s house as fast as Radar’s little legs will allow.

She is oblivious, smiling up at me with pink cheeks and a sheepish smile. “You don’t have to carry me all the way. I’m too heavy. It’s too far.”

I shake my head. “You weigh nothing. I can carry you with one arm.”

“My ankle’s not that bad. Not even a sprain.” She might be protesting, but at the same time, she snuggles into my chest and rests her head on my shoulder.

“Good. But I’m carrying you anyway.” Nothing has ever felt more right.

“We can’t hold hands this way,” she argues, a smile in her voice.

I squeeze her thigh to remind her that we have a lot more contact now. “This is an upgrade.”

“Okay, but you’ll have to come in for a drink or something. My way of saying thank you.” The scent of her arousal spikes as she offers the invitation. I have a feeling my little mate wants to share more than a cocktail. She has no idea that I’m completely at her mercy. Anything she wants, I’ll do.

“Deal.” I push open her creaky gate and make my way to the door. I don’t want to put her down yet, so I ask, “Keys?”

“Oh, use the code. It’s Radar’s birthday.”

My head automatically snaps around, scanning for Tristan. Is he within earshot? Given his obsession with her, I don’t want him knowing how to access her house. “You shouldn’t give out your door code to people.”

“I know. I don’t. I trust you, Zed. Anyway, you’re leaving town. I only have to worry about you for a few days, right?” She giggles at her own joke, but I don’t.

Juggling the leash and her shoes, I punch in the code. “Change it after I leave tonight, okay?”

“Or you could just stay over.” Her voice is teasing, but it’s the second time she’s suggested it, so I give her a little bit of truth as I carry her inside.

“I might do that if I’m invited. Where should I put you?” I scan for a comfortable landing pad. Her entry leads right to a cozy living room, where a worn leather sofa is flanked by a jungle of houseplants and a side table stacked with books. “Sofa?”

“Bed,” she says, gesturing down the short hallway. She immediately blushes. “My TV is in there. I thought we could watch a movie? But we don’t have to if you need to get up early for your conference.”

As if I’d pass up a night with her for any reason. “Sleep is for the weak.”

She laughs. “As long as you won’t regret it tomorrow.”

I would never regret a single second spent with my alokoi. Especially not a second spent in her bedroom.

It smells like her. Of course it does. It’s drenched in her. I try and hide my desperate deep breaths of her scent as I deposit her in the center of the bed. She scoots to the edge of the mattress and swings her legs down to the floor, testing her ankle.

I stop her before she stands up. “What can I get you? Drink of water? Pillow under your foot? Whatever you need.”

“Uh…unless you can pee for me, I think I’m on my own for this one.” She smirks at me, and all I want to do is kiss it off her face. So I grab her chin and tip her face up to mine, devouring her mouth to let her know she’s never on her own. She whimpers, giving in for a few delicious seconds before she pushes my chest. “Sorry, I really need to go. If you don’t mind giving Radar some water before I put him to bed, his clean bowl is in the dishwasher. You can grab us a couple beers from the fridge on your way back.”

She limps to the bathroom while I turn my attention to the dachshund, who has flopped on the floor. Poor old guy must be worn out after the meat-stravaganza and long walk. “Come on, buddy, water time,” I say, giving the leash a gentle tug to let him know he should follow me.

Radar grudgingly gets to his feet, trundling down the hallway, through the cozy living room, to the kitchen, where I unsnap his leash.

The kitchen is just as cute and cheerful as her bohemian bedroom, with vintage yellow tile and a dachshund theme. There are dachshunds chasing butterflies on the wallpaper border. Dachshunds with bows around their necks on the canisters. A dachshund in a hot dog costume pinned on the corkboard.

“Oh, that’s you,” I say, grinning as I lean closer to soak in the details of what must be Radar’s most recent Halloween costume. Next to it is a picture of Cari wearing a yellow witch hat and a matching mini dress that says “spicy” on the front. Spicy yellow witch? What?

Then the joke sinks in… it’s not a witch hat. It’s a condiment cap. She’s spicy mustard. Of course she is. It’s a couple costume with the dog’s wiener suit.

I laugh out loud, startling Radar, who yips and scrabbles on the slick tile floor until he crashes into a cabinet. I wince at the impact. The cabinet door pops open, spilling out a half-dozen pots and pans that clang and rattle all over the floor, startling him even more.

Before I can grab him, he darts away from the clamor, straight toward the bistro set at the opposite end of the small kitchen, where he gets tangled in the chair legs. One of the chairs tips backward, straight toward a bookcase full of houseplants near the sliding glass door!

It’s like everything shifts into slow motion. I lunge for the chair, hoping to stop it before it topples all the delicate plants to the floor. At the same time, I curl my tail around Radar, slowing his zany zig-zags and cushioning his tiny body against any more collisions.

The chair, dog, and I land in a pile with a thud , but thankfully Radar and the plants are fine. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I don’t want our first date to be another disaster.

“Everything okay?” Cari calls worriedly from the bathroom.

“YEP! All good!” I shout back, quickly picking myself up from the floor and setting the chair upright. I gather all the pots and pans and stack them back in the cupboard. Then I pull open the dishwasher to locate Radar’s water bowl.

I almost swallow my tongue when I see what’s in the top rack.

It’s a bright-red double dildo, both members pointing the same direction, like they’re the top of a letter “F” that stands for fuck me . Because it’s a double dragon dildo, with two big, textured cocks that look a whole lot like mine. This is what Cari uses when she’s by herself and needs satisfaction. And judging by its current location in the dishwasher, she needed it last night. After she ran into me .

My feral form instantly takes it as a compliment. Swelled up with pride, he tries to half-shift.

No , I tell him sternly, even as my pants get tighter. Just because she likes to use two dragon dicks doesn’t mean she wants to see them right now. Thank gods, he listens, for once. We can’t ruin this again by losing control.

Mate , he agrees.

I grab Radar’s water dish from the bottom rack and fill it up. He drinks thirstily, and by the time I grab an ice pack from the freezer, tuck two beers under my arm, and lead Radar back to the bedroom, Cari is sitting on the edge of the bed, her entire face as red as the dildo in the dishwasher.

“Did you see…? I just remembered what else is in there.” She presses her hands to her cheeks, hiccupping a hysterical giggle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.”

“I’m not shocked. I’m—” I break off, shaking my head.

“Horrified? Horny? What? Tell me what’s going through your head so I don’t overthink it,” she begs.

“Hopeful. And yeah, horny.” I laugh and she does, too. “Don’t worry, I didn’t read too much into it.”

Mate , my feral form purrs. He read everything into it.

“Okay, good,” she says, rising and taking Radar’s leash from my hand. She limps to a crate set up in one corner of the room and coaxes him into it, patting him lovingly before closing the door. “Good boy. Night night.”

“How’s your ankle?” I ask when she turns back toward me.

“Not too bad.” She grimaces when she makes the few steps to the bed, though.

“Here, let me ice you.” I hold up the ice pack I brought from the kitchen, wrapped in a clean towel.

“It’s not that serious,” she protests. “It’s not like I’m running a marathon this week. I can sit down at work.”

“Humor me. I want to dance with you at the gala on Friday.”

“Can’t really argue with that, can I?” She flashes me a bright grin and pats the mattress, inviting me into her bed. A moment I’ve imagined a thousand times at least, and still, the real thing tops all the fantasies.

Sliding in next to her, I carefully rearrange her limbs so her feet are in my lap. Gods, they’re so tiny and cute compared to my huge, clawed hands. Gingerly, I examine her injured ankle, afraid to hurt her. It’s not visibly bruised or swollen, just a red mark from the strap, but I put the ice on it anyway, careful to keep a layer of the towel between the frozen compress and her skin.

“Ahhh, cold!” she yelps, but she doesn’t pull away, just squirms, her feet rubbing against the single, half-hard cock in my pants. If she doesn’t stop that, it’s going to be impossible to keep my shift in check.

Desperate to preserve the moment, I hold her feet still, stroking her calf soothingly with my thumb. Her skin is so damn soft. I want to taste it. What would she do if I licked her right now?

This train of thought is not helping my dick situation. Even with my shift wrangled, my single cock swells under her feet.

“Oh!” she bursts out, eyes on my lap. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—I wouldn’t—I mean I would , but not without asking you first.”

“You would…what?” I croak, not daring to let my own imagination answer the question.

“Um…touch you there. With my feet. Or my hands. Or whatever other part you wanted me to. Not that you want me to! I just meant I am not opposed to touching you on purpose, even though that was an accident. You know what? I’m going to stalk topping now. Stop talking now, I mean.” She shuts her eyes and leans back against the headboard with a groan.

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