“Is that a good reaction?” Montrose asks, sliding his hand down his sleek torso. “Does your dragon like?”
Clearing my throat, I nod. The material is shiny and clings to his every curve like it was made just for him. It’s clear he’s nude beneath it, as every inch of him is highlighted. The front dips all the way to his belly button, or at least where that should be since his demon form is flickering in and out.
“You look… unbelievable. It’s gorgeous. You’re… so beautiful.”
He stalks toward me, eyes hooded and lips parted. I brace myself for the wave of pheromones that will bring me to my knees again, but instead, a new scent hits me. It’s sweet and floral, reminding me of the wildflower fields we played in as whelps. His eyes go wide.
“How…?”
Montrose shakes his head. “I’ve only heard about it before. Replicating scents from memories. It’s advanced incubus stuff.”
“You’re not doing it on purpose?”
“No. It must be the binding spell connecting us so closely.”
“Wow. It smells like home.” My dragon curls up and purrs, still close to the surface. I blow out a breath mixed with smoke, and Montrose’s eyelids flutter.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, abruptly changing the subject before I tear that outfit off him. Weirdly, it’s not lust pushing me to get closer, but something is, and that’s a hell of a lot scarier than just wanting to throw Montrose down and fuck him.
“I could eat,” he says, his voice soft and passive for once.
“I’ll let you change and meet you downstairs?”
“Sure thing, deliciae.”
This time, instead of drawing my ire, the pet name ripples over me like warm water. I stumble down the stairs in a haze, unbalanced and bewildered by what’s happening between us. First the nonsense in the hoard room and now this. Either this binding spell is seriously fucking with us, or something is happening that I’m not even slightly ready to face.
Chapter Sixteen
MONTROSE
Istand rooted to my spot for a minute or so after Valentino disappears, my heart thundering as I try to tamp down the floral scent pouring from me. Tino’s reaction to it has me feeling a little shaky and off balance—both feelings I’m not used to, nor do I like them.
I wasn’t lying when I told him that the ability to call up a nostalgic scent for someone else is extremely advanced incubus magic, but I wasn’t being completely truthful either. There areothercircumstances I’ve heard of that can cause the phenomenon to happen unintentionally…
I huff a laugh at myself and carefully shimmy out of my fabulous gold outfit. It’s more likely that my inner demon was trying to subdue the dragon who is, for all intents and purposes, our captor at the moment. The slight tug at the center of my chest is all the reminder I need that I’m bound to Valentino, unable to flee. Not that I have anywhere to fleetoat the moment. I rub the spot where I can feel our binding, noticing a slightly shivery, anxious feeling that I don’t think belongs to me.
What does Valentino have to feel so nervous about? And why do I have the urge to cuddle up with the big, sexy dragon, stroke his hair, and promise to chase all his worries away? A mildly unhinged laugh bubbles in my throat as I put my new outfit on a hanger and place it in the large closet.
It’s been a stressful day. That’s all any of this is. Satan’s balls, was it really only this morning that I turned up on Valentino’s front step? It feels like a fucking century ago. Exhaustion settles over me, along with the weight of all the emotional whiplash I’ve dealt with today.
My hearing is sensitive enough that I can detect Valentino at work in the kitchen downstairs. The clang of cookware and the sizzle of something cooking are strangely comforting, I’d dare to call them nostalgic if I’d even once in my long life had anyone cook for me.
I take my time unpacking my shopping bags and putting my new clothes away before getting dressed in something comfortable for the night. I pull on a pair of couture sweatpants that cling to my perky ass deliciously, and a designer loungewear crop top that’s so soft it’s sinful. Fully leaning into the ‘night in’vibes, I pull my long hair up into a high pony, then finally leave the bedroom.
The smell of something spicy tickles my nose as I flounce down the stairs and into the kitchen. Whatever Tino was feeling a few minutes ago, it seems to be under control now. The feelings vibrating through our binding are carefully neutral as he looks over his shoulder at me.
“I wasn’t sure what you like, but I had some peppers and chicken, so I thought I’d make fajitas.”
My mouth waters. I bypass the stools tucked close to the center island and instead come around the counter, hopping up to sit next to the stove.
“Fajitas are myfavorite. I was actually living in West Texas when they first became popular, and I swear they might have been the only thing keeping me from wiping out the entire state out of sheer boredom.” I roll my eyes dramatically and laugh, reaching past him to snag a sizzling pepper out of the pan. The heat sears my fingers pleasantly before I pop it into my mouth with a soft moan. “A dash more cayenne and it will be perfect.” I lick my lips, and I don’t miss the way Valentino’s eyes track the motion.
He nods and grabs the spice off the rack on the other side of the stove to add another sprinkle to the pan.
“When was that?” he asks.
I drag my gaze to the ceiling while I do the mental calculation of when that would have been. “It was before the last big war, so it would’ve had to be the nineteen-thirties.”
