Page 17 of Reptile Dysfunction
“I should go.” I ignore the call and silence the ringtone, though I make no move to leave.
“Probably smart.” But his snakes are still reaching for me, and he’s now holding onto both my hips.
“I’m not feeling particularly smart right now.”
His answering smile makes my heart stutter. “Good thing you have an enforcer to keep you in line.”
But as he kisses me again—slower this time, deliberate, every brush of his lips a promise—we both know the truth. There’s no staying in line with Thaddeus. He doesn’t just blur boundaries—he shatters them, and I let him.
And for the first time in my life, I’m absolutely okay with coloring outside the lines.
Twenty minutes later, after Thad drops me off with promises of continued conversation tomorrow, I watch his taillights disappear down our circular drive.
Chapter Seven
Thad
After I drop Sloane off and return home, my snakes won’t stop their pleased swaying, making it impossible to pretend that kiss didn’t just change everything.
Sterling—the iridescent one who earned his name by admiring his reflection one too many times—keeps stretching toward the door, like it might bring Sloane back.
“She’s trouble,” I tell them, but they just hiss contentedly. Clearly, my hair has worse judgment than I do. Something I didn’t think was possible.
Although I prided myself on keeping my emotional distance from humans, that illusion shattered the moment her lips met mine, my so-called impressive control slipping away as if it hadnever existed. And those little sounds she made when my snakes touched her…
A knock at my door interrupts that dangerous train of thought. Suddenly alert, every serpent snaps to attention, hoping for Sloane’s return, but the familiar pattern of taps identifies the visitor before I open it.
“I wondered if you wanted to share dinner,” Sebastian says by way of greeting, holding up a paper bag that smells like India Market’s curry. My brother’s snakes are immaculately styled as usual, his signature bow ties making them look more decorative than dangerous. “Aspen was worried you’re avoiding us because of the wedding planning.”
“Just busy.” I let him in, noting how his eyes track the two bourbon glasses on the counter. His snakes perk up with interest, several craning for a better look.
“Busy entertaining?” His tone aims for casual but misses by a mile. “The Silver Swimmers mentioned you had company at the coffee shop.”
Of course they did. “Don’t start.”
“Who’s starting anything?” He sets out the containers of food with exaggerated innocence. “I’m merely expressing a brotherly interest in why you’re suddenly taking Pilates classes and entertaining journalists in your fortress of solitude.”
“It’s for her article,” I say, accepting a container of curry. “The Revelation Day anniversary piece.”
“Mhmm.” Sebastian’s snakes do that knowing wiggle that always makes him look insufferably pleased with himself. “And does this article require late-night motorcycle rides and bourbon?”
“You’ve been talking to the Meddlesome Mavens far too damn much.”
“They’re very observant ladies.” He takes a bite of curry, studying me with those quiet eyes that see too much. “They also mentioned she’s not afraid of us. Of what we are.”
My chest expands like I’ve swallowed sunlight. “No. She’s not.”
“Like Aspen wasn’t afraid of me.”
“This is different.” But my snakes sway hopefully at the comparison.
“Why? Because she’s the mayor’s daughter? Because she’s writing about what we did before the Revelation?” His voice softens. “Or because you think you don’t deserve something real?”
My jaw clenches. “You were different, Seb. Your abilities helped people. Made them feel safe.”
“And yours didn’t?” He sets down his fork. “How many monster children stayed safely hidden because you kept curious humans away? How many families avoided exposure because you were willing to be the scary one?”
“That was then. Now I’m just—”
