And pretty.
And smells so fucking good. It invades my senses, burrowing into my lungs and surging through my bloodstream as my heart starts beating furiously.
Am I having a fucking heart attack?
Moron, the beast responds.
Fuck you.
Fuck her, he insists, propelling my limbs forward like a goddamned puppet. As I struggle to regain control of my own fucking body for Fate’s sake, my shoulder bumps against the bookshelves and a book falls, thudding against the floor and startling her.
Goddamnit.
Wide, red-brown eyes stare me down—not in fear or revulsion, not in awe or challenge.
And I have no idea how to process that.
“Hi?” she greets, and I’m frozen, staring like the fucking moron the stupid dragon’s accused me of being. She looks me up and down and I’m suddenly all too aware of my mussed hair, the stubble on my scarred face, and the wrinkled shirt that’s half unbuttoned because the neck is too fucking tight.
“Hey,” I grunt out to save us both from the awkward silence. Her uniform looks a little big, but my asshole unclenches just a little when I see her tattered hightops—no Legacy would be caught dead in those, so at least there’s that.
“Did you need something?” I have to swallow a few times to keep the dragon from saying what he needs.
“No. Sorry. Just looking for my phone.” The useless fucking lizard bombards me with a montage of bending her over one of these tables, sinking into her body until I’m balls deep, and rutting her until neither of us can stand. I choke on my spit and cough, turning away from her to hide the suddenly insistent erection that’s depleted my brain of blood.
“You okay dude?”
Better if you sat on my face. Fates fucking Hell, save me from this reptile.
“Yeah I’m good.”
“Want to use my phone?”
“Huh?”
“To call yours? So you can find it.” Oh, right.
“Sure. Thanks.” She hands me her phone to call mine, and follows me until I crouch down and reach under a nearby bookcase. I hold it up triumphantly and my heartbeat stutters seeing her small smile.
“Here,” I hand her phone back, but as soon as she reaches for it, my dragon grips the device even harder before I manage to take back control.
“Thanks. Hey listen?—”
Yes. Whatever she asks, say yes.
Shut the fuck up.
“Do you know where I can find the Taxonomy section? I can’t find some of these books for the life of me.” She waves her phone around. “It’s like they’re allergic to the Dewey Decimal System, plus I’m pretty sure the librarian hates me?—”
“He hates everyone, if that makes you feel any better.” Or maybe just people who threaten to burn down the library. She gives me a genuine smile then, and it’s like witnessing the birth of a star.
Moron, the dragon repeats.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, ignoring him.
“This book on demonic hybrids throughout history.”
“Oh, that’ll probably be in the History section. I’ll show you,” the dragon offers, stealing my voice like I’m nothing more than a meat suit instead of the other half of his soul.
