Huh.
When did I get less selfish?
Mate.
Right. Right.
Meeting her changed a lot of me.
The sight of celery towards the back brings a bright beam to my face.
But not everything.
I grab the stalk, stand back up, and use the edge of my dress shoe I let my Fated Mate pick out for me while shopping to close the fridge.
The green bunch has just landed on the bar top when a faint knocking sound interrupts. Gold and I share an annoyed huff of smoke prior to me calling out, “Come in!”
Heather, my stunningly beautiful swan shifter assistant, opens the door on the other side of the room and swings just her long face around the corner. Her dirty blonde hair shapes her face in a way that used to make my balls clap yet now makes them retreat in disgust.
Ah.
The joys of only being interested in banging one woman.
At least I’m not stuck only wearing one pair of shoes.
“Hey, boss, your Fated Mate is here to see you.”
It’s impossible to hide the glee the statement brings.
Want.
Obviously.
“I told her you were not to be disturbed prior to your three o’clock – per your request – and she made a sound I didn’t think Sleepers – er – an Awaker could make.” Her thin lip receives a small bite. “Should I let her in, or would you like me to double down on the ‘do not disturb’ position?”
“You can let her in,” I warmly state. “Trust me when I say she is not the type of being you wanna piss off.”
I still flinch when she picks up anything that looks like hairspray.
Made Z laugh when he came to get the tie I got him from my our bedroom where I was unloading everything.
He then insisted Ana tell the story from the beginning so that he could get another laugh in.
To get even, the next day I bought his Fated Mate a new throw pillow that had puppy paws all over it.
She loved it so much she fucking cried.
Pretty sure he’s still pissy about that.
Heather nods her understanding and disappears to retrieve the woman I dream about more than food.
Doesn’t help that she was still sleeping when I left this morning for work. Normally, I wake her up for breakfast with my fingers, tongue, or both at once, before we dine together with the family downstairs, but I had a conference call that required me to be in this room instead of in between her legs.
Maybe I should quit?
Spend the rest of my life just eating pussy and raising our arrogance of dragons.
Yes.
Arguing with Gold is exchanged for gawking at the beauty strolling into the room. Her high waisted, black skirt-covered hips swivel during her slow strut, enslaving my stare with every stride; however, it’s the high neck, elegant gold top underneath her locket that she’s got tucked into it that gets my dick weeping inside my dark plum suit pants.
For Dragons Sake, she looks like buried fucking treasure in my dragon color.
I wanna lock her up in the highest tower and fuck her rotten until she promises she’ll never even think about leaving.
My grip on the celery becomes too tight by the crunching sound that suddenly echoes around the office. I clear my throat in an attempt to hide my embarrassment and offer her a crooked grin. “Tiny Toes.”
“Peanut Butter.”
Breaking off a rib from the stalk, I ask, “Is this what you wore to your interview?”
She flops down in a white chair at the table and abandons her tote bag on one side of her stiletto-covered feet. “Against my own volition…yes.”
The displeasure in her voice causes me to chortle. “Unpack.”
“I wanted to wear jeans and this fun zebra print top and converse. I thought it shouted ‘fun’ and ‘sexy’ and ‘willing to take risks’, but according to Genie Gene, it screamed ‘sloppy’ and ‘lazy’ and ‘eats Girl Scout Cookies for breakfast’.”
“You do that.”
“And you eat black radishes like donuts! There’s nothing wrong with thinking out of the box when you’re hungry!”
“No, but there is something wrong with your clothes saying ‘hey, I’m a college freshman, getting her first real job’ instead of ‘hey, I’m in my thirties, wanting to take hold of my career’.”
“Fuck. Me. Do you sound like Genie Gene.”
I deliver an innocent shoulder shrug and bite into the vegetable. “He’s a wise being.”
“Obviously, since I got the gig.”
Excitement causes me to swallow wrong, wedging the hunk of food in my throat. Chest pounds immediately proceed the choking noses. It takes four hard hits to get the piece unstuck and flying freely through the air. Watching the green chunk of betrayal soar directly towards my Fated Mate causes me to initially cringe, yet when it lands smack dab in the middle of her forehead, I shut my eyes from entering a new realm of humiliation.
Why?
Why does The Goddess of Fate do this to me?
I have never been this constantly embarrassed in front of a female.
I feel like Z when he was going through puberty and basically tarnished our good Draak reputation in his quest to lose his virginity.
Ana carefully picks the piece off her head and flings it away to the side. “I didn’t think I was gonna get the job because there were like six other chicks there – way more qualified than me, which they felt the need to remind me of – plus I didn’t hold the elevator for the secretary who was supposed to usher me into the interview when I arrived, not knowing she was the secretary, so I went dead last, another ‘you’re so not gonna get this gig’ hair clip of failure, yet someway, somehow, they picked me.”
“Tiny Toes, you’ve got a lot of potential. I’ve seen that terrible social media album you have the scales to call a portfolio. You’ve done some rather impressive shit.”
“I don’t know about impressive.”
“That updo you did for Min’s best friend’s sister on the fly for a wedding is enough on its own to warrant a closer look at your résumé.”
“It wasn’t that fucking amazing.”
“And the Princess Leia buns you did for your twin nieces for Star Wars day at their pre-school were incredible.”
She fiddles with her locket, clearly uncomfortable under all the complimenting. “You don’t have to keep trying to win my heart, Peanut Butter. I’m already your mate.”