Page 16 of Bitten By the Basilisk

“I was the one on the motorcycle,” he explained.

In sheer disbelief, Alice jerked her gaze past her hand to meet the stranger’s eyes, having avoided them earlier. They were the exact right shade of gold, one that matched his tail.

As she’d presumed when first glimpsing him on the street, he did indeed have a more powerful form, although the human part of it was no less impressive. At the moment, he lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, the glory of his chest and abs on full display.

She quickly hid her eyes again, blushing fiercely now that she knew he didn’t have chest hair.

“You seem pretty nervous.”

She couldn’t help her sardonic tone. “Well, the embarrassment is still fresh.”

“So you’re…not afraid, then?”

The question piqued her curiosity, as did the hint of vulnerability in his voice. “Why would I be afraid?”

“You seem scared to look at me.”

Wasn’t the reason obvious? “B-because you’re naked.”

“Oh.” He reacted with a deep chuckle, sounding genuinely amused. “Well, my most interesting bits are hidden, but you’re absolutely right. My robe is hanging on the wall there, if you don’t mind bringing it to me.”

“Of course.” She hurried to grab it.

“Take care not to run into anything,” he teased.

She hung his robe over her arm with a grimace. Yeah, I deserved that.

His tone turned sympathetic. “That looked like it hurt.”

It had hurt and still ached a bit, but he was being plenty of a distraction. And while she couldn’t boast to be impervious to injury, she did heal faster than humans. Minor bruises tended to last only a day or two.

“I’m all right,” she assured him, keeping her gaze carefully averted as she walked his robe over to him. Sand shifted as he raised his body.

“There,” he said once he’d put it on. “Now we can properly introduce ourselves.”

She turned to face him, only to end up staring at the deep V of his bare chest within his loosely belted robe, before finally meeting his smiling eyes.

“Better?” he asked, turning out his hands as if modeling an outfit—or lack thereof, in his case.

“Yes. And sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Call me Silas.”

Each of his powerful, slightly too-long fingers ended in sheathed claws that she imagined could slice through flesh as easily as open air, but the fear and anxiety one would expect to feel at the sight of those deadly looking hands did not manifest. Instead, she grew restless at the idea of his claws brushing over her skin, pricking her waist as he pulled her closer.

She approached the sandpit and slid her fingers into his strong grip. “Alice.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice.” He surprised her by sinking lower and kissing the back of her hand like a knight greeting a princess, his lips warm and soft, the sensation deepening her next breath. The steep angle let her see down the gap in his robe, low enough to spy his navel and a few golden scales.

Wait, serpent-folk had navels?

“Likewise,” she said, her voice breathy.

He rose again to her height, the heat in his eyes so unmistakable it made her stomach flip. Behind him, his tail undulated beneath the sand, reminding her how much bigger—and longer—his current form was compared to her.

Oh no. If she melted into a puddle, would the magic spell on the floor whisk her away like any other?

“Were you just enjoying the baths?” His thumb brushed lazily across her knuckles, making it that much harder to catch her breath.