Hard to hide the evidence of his interest when his gaze dropped. The fact that she stared didn't help. He swelled larger. "According to that, you can, and should, join me." She patted the mattress again.

He tried to ignore the fact that he sported an impressive erection, an erection that wanted nothing more than to sink inside this wondrous woman. A woman he barely knew. A crazy lady who thought dragons were real. A woman who'd given him hope.

Hope and a chance he couldn't squander.

"A part of me really wants to stay." He eyed the curve of her breast peeking past the edge of the sheet; the leg, with its shapely calf, and the partially revealed thigh; a thigh that if spread wider would give him a peek of pink. He averted his gaze. "But now that I'm normal again, I owe it to my sister to rescue her."

"And we will rescue her. Soon. Very soon. But until the arrangements are finalized, we need sleep." She patted the bed, and the smile held so much invitation.

The temptation was almost too much.

"Sleeping with you wasn't the deal."

"But we'd both have so much fun." Her lower lip jutted in a pout that practically ordered him to suckle.

I could kiss her if I wanted to. I have lips again. Now there was something he'd not indulged in for a long time. Hell, he'd not indulged in any kind of fun with a woman since the change. So why exactly was he saying no?

It was not as if he could go anywhere at the moment. He had no clothes, no money or identification, and without his wings, how would he travel?

He wasn't even sure what time of day or what day it was. The curtains were drawn, and the room almost pitch-black. Only the faintest of illumination came from a doorway that he would wager good money was a bathroom.

A bathroom meant a shower. Fuck me, when was the last time he'd had one of those?

In a blink, he stood in the large glass enclosure. He might have groaned when the hot spray hit his skin. Moaned, too.

"Did I seriously just get dumped for a shower?" She sounded amused.

Turning his head, he squinted at Aimi through one eye, his long, wet lashes fighting to cling. His hands were braced on the wall, and he leaned slightly forward, letting the hot needles of water hit his head then roll down his back. The clear glass barrier between them perhaps prevented droplets from spraying, but they didn't hide him from her or her from him.

He stared. He couldn't help himself. In bed, she'd proven alluring, showcasing only parts of her trim figure. He'd managed to resist, having enough self-control to not be swayed by mere arms and legs exposed.

But she didn't wear a sheet now. Nor pajamas or clothes of any kind. Aimi stood without an ounce of shyness, shoulders back, breasts a bare handful and peaked with fat nipples. Her waist had only the slightest of indents flaring into slim hips. Her mound sported silvery curls that matched the hair on top.

Purrrrrfect. Again, he almost hummed because of her.

"Get a good hard look and weep because this is what you abandoned for a shower."

A shower that left him finally feeling clean, and in the mood to get dirty. "It's a big shower. Room enough for two." The flirting he used to indulge in came easily to his lips, and he crooked a beckoning finger.

Her hair rippled as her chin angled. "I'm not dirty."

For some reason that made his lips quirk, and he turned fully to face her before settling back until his shoulders hit the wall, one leg bent and resting on it. "I am." He looked down and then back at her.

It was brazen, and he expected a blush, an indignant reply, even laughter, although he hoped she'd just join him. What he didn't expect was...

"Well, at least he's not impotent. We'll have your aunt test the viability of his swimmers later."

Test the what of the what?

Brandon straightened and dropped his hands to cover himself as a woman he'd not yet met entered the bathroom behind Aimi. The resemblance was startling so he wasn't surprised to hear Aimi gasp, "Mother. What are you doing in here?"

"Apparently, my daughter claims a male, and I am the last to know and meet him."

"I haven't claimed him yet."

"Of course, you haven't, because you are always leaving things to the last minute."

"We just met. Surely we're allowed a few minutes before we bind ourselves for life."

"Perhaps I should have given you a few minutes. Maybe then all the blood would be in your head instead."

"Can you blame me? The man is pretty."

Pretty? Brandon was many things, but he wouldn't have said that.

Eyes perused him with a clinical detachment that weighed him, judged him, and shriveled his balls. "He's doable."

"Mother!" said in shock. To him, Aimi mouthed, "She has no boundaries."

"I am your mother. Those don't apply to me. And before you ask, I always know when you are sassing. You should know that by now. Tell your beau to get dressed at once that you might introduce him to me and explain what in the thirteen colors is going on." Aimi's mother barked her wishes, but Brandon was used to bullying tactics.

She wanted him dressed. Fuck that. Brand straightened and pushed away from the wall. He stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, ignored the towel hanging there, and walked right over to Aimi's mom. He stood over her, forcing her to look up or stare at his chest.

As soon as their gazes met, he smiled, wickedly. His tone danced with mirth as he said, "You must be Aimi's ma."

"I am Zahra Silvergrace, Contessa of the Silver Sept, and matriarch of the Silvergrace family."

"Nice to meet you. How's about a hug?" The arms he wrapped around her were very wet, as was the rest of him, and she wore silk.

It was worth the screech from Zahra to hear Aimi's silver-belled laughter.

What he liked less was the older woman putting him flat on his ass in a series of lightning-quick moves and pinning him with a heel. With slitted eyes spitting green, she stated, "If you weren't already almost mated to my daughter-"

"You'd marry him off to someone else in the family. We both know you wouldn't let your dignity kill a mateable male." Aimi pushed at her mother. "Now get off him."

Zahra glared. "He started it."

"And you totally deserved it. Barging in here like this. You wouldn't have done that to Eugenia's son."

"Eugenia's son wouldn't have been trying to entice you to shower with him."

"I wanted to do more than shower," he felt a need to interject.

Aimi held back her mother, who growled, "Don't make me school you again."

"Try it. But maybe next time, I'll forget you're a girl." Actually, the very fact that Zahra was a woman and Aimi's mom meant he'd have to take any beating she meted out. Anything less meant shredding his mancard.

"You think you can take me, gutter creature?"

"That's swamp. And possibly illegitimate, too. We never did find a marriage license for my folks." He rose from the floor and finally decided to wrap a towel around his loins, lest Zahra react like a cat and go after the dangling bits.

"He's a bastard? You're bringing a bastard into the fold?" Her mother looked quite appalled.

"But he's gold."

Aimi's mother eyed him in the cold, calculating way he'd seen before in his Aunt Tanya's eyes when she measured up something to put in the pot. It made the other churchgoers nervous.

"A possible gold. Who is un-ascended and related to that idiot, Parker. What on earth makes you think I'd approve of this."

"Because you and I both know I've run out of choices. Besides, just imagine if he does ascend. No other Sept can claim a gold for breeding."

Everywhere he went, folks wanted to use him. Funny how Aimi's need to use him as a mate and father didn't bother him, though. Rather it filled him with a warm, possessive feeling. Still, he couldn't just let her talk about him as if he were an object. "Your mercenary side is coming out again, moonbeam," he chided.

The mother replied. "Thank you. I did my best to raise her right. But flattery won't change my mind. I don't think you're acceptable. Not yet."

"Too late for that, Mother. He's mine."

"If that's true, then why haven't you marked him?"

"Because we made a bargain." Aimi's face made a moue. "He wants his sister present for the ceremony."

"More swamp people in our home? Perhaps you'd like them to pitch tents on the lawn?"

"Golly, maybe we'll string up some clotheslines and do our laundry in that big ol' fountain out front." Brandon adopted his best yokel voice, which didn't endear him to dear old mom.

"I see someone requires some castor oil."

"Aunt Xylia gave him some already."

"Obviously not enough."

"He chugged the whole bottle."

"And that right there should tell you he isn't one of us." The mother spun on her heel. "A true dragon can't stand the taste."

"Daddy used to gargle it," Aimi said, practically singing the claim.

"Argh." The mother stomped out of the room with an inarticulate cry.

"Well, that went well."

She shrugged. "It could have been worse. You're still alive."

"And you're still naked."

She looked down. "I am." Her lips quirked. "Are you still dirty?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, he was. He drew her close, reveling in the feel of her against him. Silky-soft skin. Even softer hair.

For the past two years, he'd thought getting this close to a woman-who wouldn't scream and struggle-would be impossible. Who wanted to touch a monster?

But he wasn't a monster anymore.

Don't be so sure. I'm still here, the cold part of him reminded, finally speaking for the first time since his waking.

His other half, the mutated part of him, still existed, but he was in control.

As if needing to assert his tenuous grasp on his humanity, he cupped the back of her head and drew her on tiptoe, close enough that he could press his mouth to hers.

The madness of the act didn't escape him. Aimi used him. For what purpose exactly he wasn't sure. Perhaps she truly did want him as mate and father of her babes, but there was more to it than that.

Her lips, soft and pliant under his, her lithe body pressing, he really didn't give a damn what that reason was. It was enough to feel again.

To touch.

To taste.

To tumble her on a bed-not a rooftop or a grassy glade. Enough to have her greedy hands clutching at him, the sharp edges of her nails digging into his flesh as she drew him close and sucked at his mouth then his tongue.

The hardness of his erection pressed against her, the towel but a barrier, a thin one easily removed. He shifted, tugging the damp terry cloth away from skin, letting the head of him nudge at her.

He was impatient. He knew he was impatient. He had to slow down. But how could he?

What if the curse returned? What if this was the one and only chance he ever got?

Then I'd better make it good.

He shifted to the side enough that his body held his weight on the bed, and he could free a hand to skim the planes of her flesh, stroking over her ribs, over her flat tummy. He dragged his fingers through the silky curls of her mound.

The rosy tips of her breasts beckoned, and he clasped one with his lips, sucking greedily at the tip, unable to stop himself from humming in pleasure, especially when she clasped his head and pulled him closer, uttering a breathy, "Yes."

Yes, indeed.

His fingers slid between her thighs and stroked at her velvety moistness. Her sex quivered at his touch, soaking his fingers in her honey.

It wasn't just bears that liked a lick.

Claim the treasure. The warm suggestion had him shifting, moving to a spot between her legs, draping her thighs over his shoulders, exposing her pink perfection.

At his first lap, she arched. At the second, she sighed. By the time he was busy flicking his tongue over the swollen nub of her clitoris, her head was thrashing. Her body wanted to buck, but he held it firmly, his hands keeping her steady that he might enjoy the treat.

He'd been mistaken when he called her honey. The taste of her was more than that. It drugged his senses, arousing him in a way he'd never imagined. He also felt connected to her, and thus wasn't surprised when amidst the soft pants and moans, he heard her thoughts, More. Yes. Right there. Lick me.

Not exactly a conversation but still the most wondrous thing he'd ever heard.

It spurred him on, making his actions more frenzied.

That's it. Now finger fuck me while you lick.