Braeden was busy wolfing down cold pizza with a look of pure delight on his face.
It made Alyx grin.
“What would your MasterChef say to that, huh?” she teased gently as she came to sit down by his side.
“There are situations where there is no greater culinary delight than a slice of cold pizza,” he said, taking another shameless bite of cold cheese. “How are you feeling?”
“How are you feeling?” she asked. “I mean, I assume you're feeling pretty good. At least those were no moans of pain...”
Surprised, Braeden threw back his head and laughed.
It made her grin again; the view of his tousled, black hair curling against his nape made her want to reach out and comb her fingers through it.
She loved that she could surprise him. In the fire dragon lair, she'd been utterly out of her depth. But she'd hate for him to think of her as a damsel in distress. She'd fended for herself her entire life. She didn't need a protector.
Or at least, she hadn't needed one until she'd encountered actual, real-life fire dragons...
Still. If he'd thought of her as a meek, traumatized victim, he had a lot to learn about her. She hadn't gotten her gig as the city’s top lifestyle and fashion columnist by sitting all humble and quiet at her computer.
“I'm fine,” he said, then stretched out his leg to show her. “Look. It'll need another day to heal completely, but it's stopped hurting. I can walk—and fly.”
Impressed, she reached out to trail her finger very carefully along the healed skin. It was still red, but last night's wound was completely gone.
“Wow,” she finally said, her fingers lingering on his warm skin.
Even now, she could feel a strange, prickling feeling against her fingertips. It wasn't just the warmth of his skin. It was an entirely different heat—a heat that made her long to be reckless and pull him down onto the bed again, to see how inventive he could get with her.
When she looked up, she saw that his eyes were dark with arousal as well. She could see flames dancing in them.
It should have been scary, but right now, all she felt was an overwhelming, wild desire.
She wanted him to press her down onto the bed again. She wanted...
She pulled her fingers back as if she'd been scalded. She was breathing heavily—and so was he.
“Yes. Those were no moans of pain,” he said softly, watching her with his flame-filled eyes.
She swallowed, struggling against the way her sated body began to throb with desire once more. She didn't resist when he pulled her down to sit on the bed next to him.
“How much do you know about shifters? I assume they didn't tell you much?”
Silently, Alyx shook her head. She'd figured out some things from observing the dragon shifters who'd held her captive. She'd had to. If she wanted to escape, she had to know their weaknesses.
“Did they tell you about mates?” Braeden was still looking at her with eyes that shone with power.
She swallowed, trying to remember what she'd learned.
“Zena told me stories sometimes. I know a mate is a shifter's spouse.”
“More than that,” he said softly.
And then he reached out again, resting his hand against her cheek. Very gently, his thumb followed the line of her cheekbone.
She heard herself gasping. Heat sprang up where he touched her. His eyes were filled with the same heat, and she found she couldn't look away.
He was powerful, she knew that. He'd forced an ancient volcano to erupt.
But right now, all she could see was the way he'd touched her earlier. He’d overwhelmed her with a passion that had burned brighter than lava, touching her as reverently as if she were a goddess.