Page 100 of Pretty Little Prey
“You ask me about hopes and dreams, and all I can come up with is that I liked to paint and play the harp when I was in school.” She bit the inside of her cheek and again tried to break eye contact. “Not very impressive.”
He shifted closer, his scent of firewood and musky vanilla overwhelming her new vampire senses.Roasted marshmallows and pine. “Do you know what being a dragon’s mate means?” he asked. “You could read the nutrition facts label off a heart-healthy cereal box, and I would listen with rapt attention. Everything you have to say is important to me. I want to know everything about you. I want to hear you play a harp. I want you to paint the walls of our home.”
More blushing. Gods, how did his mere presence turn her into some kind of blushing, shy schoolgirl?This is what it feels like to be treated kindly by an unbelievably attractive man who thinks I’m his mate.
She thought back to Bastille’s cruelty. He wouldhatethat she spent time with the dragon.Hmph, good.
“In fact…” His grin was devilish yet still good-natured—like he planned to let her in on every secret he’d ever been told. Like they were best friends. “I have an idea.”
Chapter 39
She waslaughing. Luna. The woman who only knew about survival and escape and mourning and living paycheck to paycheck. She was laughing. More accurately, she could not stop laughing.
The dragon had called the hotel’s room service. Twenty minutes later, a set of paints—a hundred colors—arrived at the door of the suite.
Daxton had grinned mischievously at her and said, “Let’s improve this hotel’s walls.”
And they painted together. He turned on music with tempos and beats that were impossiblenotto dance to, and the two of them swayed around the suite, holding random-sized paintbrushes and colored the walls. Daxton described his art as “abstract” as he flicked paint against the wall.
Meanwhile, Luna expertly painted the rare lilac flowers that used to grow by her home. She painted birds flying freely in a perfect sky. She painted a herd of sheep on a hill, giving one of the animals her mother’s eyes.
“It looks so real,” Daxton would not stop complimenting her. Her cheeks were a constant pink. “You are a true talent.” He grinned and wrapped an arm lightly around her waist. “My mate will be a famous artist one day.”
She pointed to his “masterpiece” of paint specks and replied sassily, “One of us has to be.”
His face lit up at her playful joke. He grabbed her and yanked her against him. She squealed with laughter as he pretended to nip at her chin and neck. She took her time with pushing him away.
“You know, most people know to tell a King that he is great at everything,” he remarked.
“I won’t lie to stroke your ego,” she shot back.
He grinned fiercely at her. “Finally, someone to keep me humble. My mother will love you.”
“Even though I am not a dragon?” she asked.Or a Light One shifter?
He tapped a finger to his chin, as he leisurely ran his gaze over her body. “I know,” he suggested before shooting forward to drag a wet paintbrush over her neck. “We will paint dragon scales on you.” He left a dash of red paint over her throat and stepped back to admire his work. “She will never know.”
Luna snorted and shoved at him, rubbing her own wet paintbrush over the side of his face.
Daxton feigned a gasp and drew his paintbrush over the back of her hand.
She painted his muscular forearm and darted away.
They went back and forth like this, painting each other in random spots uncovered by clothing. Eventually, they moved to painting each other’s clothing as well. The laughter pouring from both of them just made them laugh harder, with absolute abandon.
A sore loser, Luna tackled Daxton to the ground—something he allowed her to do considering he could have simply caught her weight. She pinned him to the floor and grabbed a full jar of yellow paint.
“Don’t do it—” he started but cut off when she turned the jar and splashed thick globs of colorful non-machine-washable goop onto his chest. She expected annoyance or anger from him; instead, his chest rose and fell with laughter.
Covered in paint, he grinned at her with pure amusement and…something else in those sparkling golden eyes. A tenderness and fondness she was not familiar with. Pure adoration.
He appeared utterly smitten with her.
And for some reason, his warmth made her squirm from her position on top of him on the floor. The same position she’d had Bastille in while she fed from his neck.
Hesitantly and moving on pure instinct, Luna rubbed her palms over his chest, smoothing in the globs of paint and admiring the way the dampness made his shirt cling to the ridges and dips of his abs.That is a strong core, she thought to herself, blushing again, as she palmed his muscles, covering them in yellow.
“Does my mate wish to paint me?” Daxton purred.
