The story surprises me. It's layered and sharp, the emotions raw in a way that feels almost too exposed. I am drawn in despite my initial skepticism.
"In Cerastean narrative traditions," I murmur during a lull, "characters who begin as unpleasant generally remain so. Their nature is revealed, not changed."
"Humans like to believe in redemption," Cody says. "That people can grow and change." He glances at me. "Probably because we have to believe it. Otherwise, we'd all give up on each other."
I file his observation away for later consideration and return my attention to the film.
The woman, Hannah, has gone to the charming male's apartment. They're talking, and there's something shifting between them. A current of honesty beneath all his practiced smoothness. She asks him to show her "the move" – the lift from the other film Chelsea mentioned – and he raises her above his head like she weighs nothing at all.
When he lowers her down, they kiss.
I hold my breath.
I'd read about kissing, of course. The reports on human mating rituals had discussed kissing extensively, but neither the descriptions nor the accompanying images made it seem like anything remarkable. This is nothing like those reports. It's soft at first, tentative, almost surprised. Then it deepens, and my stomach pulls tight. Perhaps this is why humans are obsessed with it.
On the other sofa, Chelsea makes a cooing sound. "Gets me every time," she sighs.
But I barely hear her.
I'm transfixed by the couple on the screen. I wonder what it might feel like to press my mouth to someone else's like that. I'm suddenly very aware of Cody beside me. The heat of him. The steady pressure of his shoulder brushing mine. I don't dare turn my head. I don't know what would be worse: finding him watching me or finding him not.
It hits me then –thisis why I made the decision to not have my fangs and venom sacs restored.
After I was rescued, I'd spent time in the healing bed, letting it repair the damage captivity had done to my body – damage both visible and hidden.
When they offered to restore my fangs and venom, I'd said no. I told them not to bother. The fangs and venom were vestigial. My people had evolved beyond the need for venom long ago. The healers accepted this reasoning. It made sense.
But that wasn't the real reason.
The real reason is that I wanted to know what it would be like. Just once. To press my mouth to someone else's. Just to find out what all the fuss was about.
And now… The reason is sitting in the chair next to me, his attention fixed on the movie playing out on the screen. I force my eyes back to the screen and try very hard to followwhat's happening. But my gaze keeps drifting sideways, stealing glances at Cody's profile in the flickering light.
The rest of the movie passes in a blur. When the credits begin to roll, I couldn't tell you how it ended. My thoughts are too loud, too tangled, and too focused on the male beside me.
I risk a glance.
Cody is not watching the screen.
He's staring at me.
Our eyes meet, and electricity passes between us. The flickering light plays across his features. It catches on the curve of his lips, on the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Cerasteans have no facial hair. I wonder what it would feel like. Would it be soft? Or would it scratch my skin if he kissed me? My stomach dips when I realize that his eyes – those bright blue eyes – are fixed on my mouth.
My tongue flicks out instinctively, tasting the air.
Oh.
The scent that washes over me is unmistakable. I've spent enough time among humans now to recognize their emotional signatures: the sour tang of fear, the bright spark of joy, the bitter musk of grief.
This is none of those things.
This is rich and heady. A low, thrumming note that makes my blood heat and my pulse quicken.
Arousal.
Cody's eyes are still on my mouth. When his gaze finally lifts to mine, there's no embarrassment there. No attempt to hide. Just steady certainty.
My gaze drops to his lips.
