Fi ought to feel foolish for leaning into him.
Only, he leaned into her, too. A brush of tail against her bare ankle, a flare of nostrils as he breathed her in, that flutter in her stomach that didn’t feel like fear anymore.
“Maybe,” she said.
“Maybe?You’re usually so assertive.” His voice dipped, apurrthat rattled every sensible piece of her. “I do enjoy that about you.”
“Maybe… I’m not sure it’s something Ishouldwant.” Her throat, exposed to fangs. Soft skin bared to claws.
“I see. You aren’t alone in that.”
Fi’s breath caught at the words. At the glint of his eyes as they swept her face, her mouth, the straps of her dress. It was one thing to catalogue his taunts and speculate what they might mean.
Another thing entirely, to hear him say it.
To hear them both say it. This thing they’d danced around, strained to a breaking point, already no space between them as she leaned against his chest.
He reached for her face. Fi didn’t flinch.
Antal brushed a swirl of rainbow hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Fi shivered at the whisper of claws over skin. At the gentleness of it. At how she wasn’t sure shewantedhim to be gentle. Was he still playing with her? A game to delight in her discomfort?
She ran an experimental hand down his chest. Soft fabric. Hard muscle. The rumble in his throat didn’t sound like playing.
“Small moments?” she asked, her voice too soft for either of their good.
“Small moments,” he agreed with equal treachery.
“What other small moments do you enjoy?”
When he hummed, Fi felt it in her bones. His gaze raked her like claws. The real things pressed her waist. She wanted them in her hair. Under her dress.
“Some things you’d enjoy as well,” he said.
“Would I?”
“Why else does your breath come short whenever I’m this close to you?”
He leaned closer.
Then froze, when Fi jabbed a finger beneath the soft hollow of his chin.
“That’s not what I asked, daeyari.”
She held him there. An immortal captive, commanded with the tip of a single finger. Had he always looked at her so ravenously? Or had she assumed it a different type of hunger? He seemed to like when she fought.
Fi liked when he fought, too. That line pulled taut between them.
“You’d enjoy it,” Antal vowed. Then, bolder, “I dread how you’d torment me otherwise. Certainly, I’d never hear the end of it.”
Void save her, Fi devoured his taunts. His goading grin and the spark in his eyes. Heat kindled in her belly, sinking with perilous surety where she pressed her thighs together.
She wanted him. And what was stopping her? Survival instinct? He’d shared her home, and never crossed a single line she set down. Caution? Swiftly vanishing, every momentthe hard weight of his body pressed flush against her. Daeyari carried no diseases in their immortal forms, couldn’t make children with mortals.
And what was wrong with a little curiosity? A night of unwinding, before their next dance with mortal danger?
Antal didn’t flinch, when Fi’s fingers settled on his jaw.
A semblance of stone, as her thumb traced the smooth line of his chin.
