He walked backward along the edge of the pot, arms out.
“I’m not watching you.” She hooked the basket of ornaments over her arm and lifted into the air, quickly decorating the top of the tree.
“Yes, you are,” he said from below her. “You can’t take your eyes off me. You haven’t since the moment you brought me here.”
“Done,” she said, ignoring his outburst. She landed beside him and stared up at her handiwork. Stunning. It cast the entire room in a warm, colorful glow.
“Do you know how I know you haven’t taken your eyes off me?” He blathered on, a hiccup punctuating his statement.
Annoyed, she looked up at him. “Mountain forgive me, I had no idea that humans couldn’t hold their liquor,” she murmured, wondering if she should call Maiara. Instead, she held up her hand. “Come down from there.”
He slapped her hand away. “I know because I haven’t taken my eyes off you. You’re a fucking candle in the darkness. No man could look away from you.”
Gods, he was far gone. She considered simply forcing him down but was afraid he might struggle and hurt himself. “All right then. Follow this candle and I’ll put you to bed. You need to sleep it off.”
“Who am I to deny a beautiful woman who wants to put me to bed?” Without warning, he jumped. Charlie broke his fall by grabbing his torso. The ledge was only about four feet high, but she worried he’d fall awkwardly and hurt himself in his current state. He landed against her chest, and she pushed him away, turning him toward the door. Truly, she didn’t mind him touching her except that it reminded her of the orgasm he’d given her that morning and the idea that it wouldn’t be happening again depressed her.
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” She nudged him forward with a light laugh.
“It’s one of my finer qualities.”
By the time they reached her chambers, she was practically holding him up. “Are you going to be okay? Maybe I should call Maiara.”
“Fine,” he mumbled. “Just very drunk.”
“I can see that.” She opened the door to her guest room and deposited him on the bed. He flopped onto the mattress, spread-eagle, and instantly closed his eyes. Fuck. He couldn’t undress himself; she’d have to do it for him. One by one, she removed his shoes, then went to work on his fly. She glanced up at him as she undid the button and zipper on his jeans, but his eyes were closed. Thank the gods, because when she shimmied them down over his hips, she was sure she made a face when she saw what was underneath. Liam was hung like a mountain horse. She swallowed hard, cursing her luck for being attracted to a human with that body only to be rejected once again. She gritted her teeth and stripped the jeans from his legs, then covered him with the blanket.
She was draping the jeans across a chair when he said, “You know why those men reject you?” Fuck, was he reading her mind? “It’s not because you have wings. It’s because you’re an angel. Good to your bones. The sum of everything light and beautiful in the world. No man can live up to that. You’re too good for those fuckers.”
“I don’t think—” She started to tell him all the reasons that what he said wasn’t true but stopped when he let loose a laborious snore.
Shaking her head, she slipped from the room and climbed into her own bed, alone again.
Chapter
Thirteen
“Oww.” Liam sat up, feeling like his head might explode. The events of the day before paraded through his mind, becoming ever foggier near the end when the tribiscal wine had kicked in. Damn, that stuff was potent. His gaze caught on his jeans hanging over the back of the chair. He lifted the blanket. Yep, she’d undressed him, and didn’t that just intensify the morning wood he was sporting.
Just thinking about her hands on his fly had him palming his cock and stroking the rock-hard erection the vision gave him. The woman had him tied up in so many knots he was already anticipating weeks of recovery when he returned home and was forced to go cold turkey. Would he ever get over the softness of her feathers bunched in his fist, or the taste of her mouth, or the way her skin smelled like pure citrusy sunlight, and oh God, the light and heat she put off when she came? He stroked harder, faster. If he’d been buried inside her like he’d wanted to be, he might have lost his heart to her at that moment. Hell, he’d have given her his soul. As long as he lived, he’d never forget the moment she arched off the bed.
He jerked, tightening his hold on himself as the memory of her grinding against his palm pitched him over the edge. Hot jets streamed across his stomach. He lay there for a moment in the rosy glow of his fantasy before sounds outside the bedroom door sent him scurrying to the bathroom to clean up. Once he’d bathed and changed into another set of Alexander’s clothes, he took his pounding head into the common area.
Charlie was waiting for him with a sympathetic smile. “This will help with that hangover.” She poured what looked like water into a glass across the table from her.
“Thanks.” He sat down and took a sip. Definitely not water. Tasted medicinal.
“I ordered a few dishes—scones, eggs, bacon.” She lifted the silver domes off the plates. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.”
He stared across the table at her, thinking he was in the mood for her. Beating himself off that morning, it seemed, had only whetted his appetite. He shifted in his seat and started reciting the periodic table in his head, grabbing a scone off the platter. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“That’s all right,” she said softly. “I should have warned you that tribiscal wine is strongly intoxicating. Most full-grown dragons don’t drink as much of it as you did.”
“What about your human relatives?”
“The ones who are witches don’t drink it at all. One glass can knock a witch on her ass. My uncle Nick usually has a couple, but he’s used to it.”
He chewed his scone thoughtfully, the memory of what he’d said to her coming back to him. “What I said last night—”
