Now he seemed pleased. “Good.”
Odd. “You don’t want them to bite me?”
“Not particularly, no,” he admitted. “Do you want them to bite you?”
His words gave me pause.Is this my subconscious’s way of telling me I don’t want them to mate me?I wondered, the thought making me uneasy. “I… I don’t know,” I whispered. “Do I?”
“That’s not for me to tell you,” he replied, easing backward just a bit before moving to sit beside me with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
He reminded me of sex. Dangerous, hot, sweaty sex. Not that we’d indulged in any of that in my fantasies. It’d always been him pleasing me, never the other way around.
Hence, fantasy.
I glanced at him. “Why are you here?”
“You already asked me that,” he replied, amused.
“You never answered me.”
“No, I didn’t.” He smiled. “Then again, I rarely do.”
“Because it’s all in my head,” I muttered, understanding. “Are you supposed to be my conscious? Because that’d be kind of weird.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m not sure what it would say about my mental state if, uh…” I shook my head, the consideration making me dizzy. “Never mind. You’re just too attractive to be my mind.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I find your mind rather fascinating,” he replied.
“You would say that as a figment of my imagination,” I drawled back at him.
He chuckled. “And is that what I am?”
“What else could you be?”
“Maybe I’m one of your mates,” he suggested.
I giggled. “Oh, what fun that would be. Zeph would just love you. Kols, too.” They already wanted to kill Shade. Why not add Fantasy Guy to the mix? I giggled again. “That’d be entertaining.”
“Wouldn’t it?” He smiled, a pair of dimples appearing at the edges that made me giddy. He really was an attractive figment.
“I suppose you can stay around, but no more, uh”—I waved to my naked body—“no more of this. No more sex.”
His silver-blue eyes lazily ran over my nudity, his palm reaching out to push my knees away to reveal my breasts to his view. “What if I want sex?”
“That can’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s cheating,” I decided out loud. “I… I don’t want to be unfaithful, even if it’s just in my mind.”
“What if it’s me you are cheating on?” he asked, arching an ash-blond brow.
I snorted. “Cheating on my own mind. There’s a riddle for you.”
“Maybe it’s true.”
“You know it’s not,” I replied, amused. “I can’t cheat on someone who isn’t real.”
