He grins, and it’s slightly predatory in a way that makes my blood go hot all over again. “It helped my patrons find ways to be more generous. And it improved my wing muscles, since I wasn’t allowed to fly.”
“What do you mean, you weren’t allowed to fly?” I nearly choke on my truffle fry. “That’s horrible.”
“Only those with means are allowed to navigate the skies around the capitol.”
“But you all have wings. How can that…” I shake my head.
“I would fly.” He says, his gaze far away, and it takes me a second to realize he’s answering my earlier question. “In Sueva. I would go flying every day. And for work, I would raise vegetables and livestock. I love to cook.”
“You do?” I ask, my eyebrows rocketing up. “I do not like to cook.”
“Then it would be my joy to feed you every meal.” He points at my plate. “I like the sounds that you make when you are eating.”
I blush at that, then fluff my still damp hair self-consciously.
“I like the idea of making sure anyone around us has food, too,” he continues thoughtfully.
“Like a restaurant?”
“A what?”
“It’s a place people can buy meals and sit down and eat them. Hang out together. You don’t have restaurants where you’re from?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry,” he says, and he doesn’t exactly answer the question. His brow is furrowed, though, as much as it can be with the horns protruding there and wrapping back over his head.
“So... you want to cook, and you want to help people.” I hold up two fingers.
A vigorous nod. “Yes. And I want to make a home for you, one you will be proud of. And I want to use my wings whenever I want to, wherever I want to.”
That last part makes my throat tighten unexpectedly. I can’t imagine how awful it must be to have the ability to fly and then not be allowed to do so.
Instinctively, I reach out my hand, layering my palm over his and squeezing. His skin is calloused and warm, his hand so much larger than mine that it feels silly to try and hold it at all.
His hand turns over, and then our fingers intertwine, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Our eyes lock, and my first thought is that Rex could be a great friend.
He is a good man.
Lust roars through me, and I shift uncomfortably, my thoughts also shifting immediately to sex.
I clear my throat, gaze still locked on his.
His nostrils flare, and if the fanfics are right… he can smell exactly how I feel.
I shove a handful of truffle fries into my mouth.
Rex just smiles, then eats some more too. He doesn’t say anything about the vibes I’m giving off, not to mention what I’m sure he can smell.
Well.
At least it’s a good smell.
Better than other smells.
You know what? I’m not going to think about the smell of arousal ever again.
I stuff as many truffle fries into my mouth as I can. If I’m thinking about not choking on truffle fries, I can’t be thinking about choking on his anatomy.
Finally, through sheer willpower, the heat’s grip on me starts to fade.