“You call him ‘piggy piggy’, too?” I pretend-pout to the host. “I thought you and I had something special.”
Zed gasps dramatically. Then he grabs the sausage, tosses it into the air, tips his head back, and swallows it in one gulp. My jaw practically hits the floor.
He shrugs sheepishly at my expression. “Dragon advantage. I really like meat, too.”
Chapter 10
Zed
If I had any doubts that Cari was the ideal woman—or that jerking off before this date was a good idea—watching her put away that giant sausage with my cum in her hair put them all to rest. She’s perfect for me, game for anything life might throw ather… like a dragon fated mate with two dicks and a hair-trigger shift. And she smells fucking amazing with my scent all over her.
I have to tell her tonight. She can handle it. She can handleme.
“He’s the king!” the host belts. “The king of eating the whole thing!” A group of servers gathers around, clapping in tandem and shouting, “King of the thing, king of the thing, king of the thing!” One of them crowns me with a gold plastic circlet, and Cari joins in the clapping, laughing, until they finish their song.
“I’ll bring out your next course right out,” the host promises, sweeping the platter off the table.
“I’m a little afraid of what that might be,” I confess to Cari after he leaves. “I didn’t know exactly what I was signing up for. I’m sorry if it’s not quite what you expected from a first date.”
“I think this is awesome. Definitely memorable.”
I know I’ll never get the image of her wrapping her pretty little mouth around that sausage out of my mind. “Agreed.”
“I know you were trying to let me win, but I’m glad you didn’t. It’s more fun if it’s a real competition.”
“You goaded me into it!” I chuckle. “You knew what you were doing, flirting with the host like that.”
“Yep. And it worked.” Cari looks pretty pleased with herself. “Please don’t make ‘piggy piggy’ my pet name, by the way.”
I love that she’s thinking of the future. Thinking of us as a couple. This feels so natural, like no time has passed at all. Like we’ve been together all along.
“Never,” I swear. “I’ll call you Queen.” She makes a confused face, and I motion to the crown wedged between my horns. “Obviously, if I’m the king, you’re the queen.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. She knows what I’m getting at. Because you don’t become queen by dating a king, do you? Only by marrying him. “Obviously,” she repeats, her cheeks flushing.
She’sso damn beautiful. Why did I wait all this time to find her again?
“I wish I’d tried harder,” I say without thinking. “I wish I hadn’t listened to anybody else.”
“What do you—”
“Aaaaaand here’s our Meatball Match-Up!” Cari’s question is cut off by the return of the host. This time he has two plates full of meatballs balanced on one arm and a stack of sauce cups in the other hand. He spreads it all out in front of us with practiced flair. “You’ve got marinara, barbecue, sweet-and-sour, and spicy mustard. First one to finish their plate wins. Watch out for the toothpicks! Now it’s time to Eat! That! Meat!”
I could finish the plate in fewer than five minutes, but I take my time instead, enjoying the view of Cari with sticky hands and sauce smudged across her cheek.
“You’re so gorgeous,” I tell her. She pauses mid-meatball, her cheeks full like a chipmunk, but she has to hold back her smile to keep the food in her mouth. Instead, she puts her foot on mine under the table, a private acknowledgement of the compliment.
She has no idea what those little feet do to me. Wrapped up in the strappy heels she’s wearing tonight? I’d rather have those toes in my mouth than these meatballs, no matter how succulent they might be.
I have to get my thoughts under control or my feral form is going to take advantage of how weak she makes me. I focus on my plate and try to eat like a human. The last thing I need is toothpicks stuck in my throat and another date with Cari cut short by a trip to the monster medical center.
She has a good head start on me and is close to finishing her plate, so I speed up, skipping the sauces and just sliding meatballs off their toothpicks with a practiced flick of my claws. But I pause when I feel Radar’s tiny paws on my shin.
When I glance down at him, he rests his chin on my knee, whining. All the meat smells must be driving him crazy. Even though they brought him out a dog-designed meal, I can’t resist his cuteness. I slip him a plain meatball under the table.
Immediately, a buzzer sounds. “Disqualified!” the host announces.
Cari frowns, cleaning the sauce from her face and fingers with her napkin. “What? Why?”
