So I approached supper with a renewed determination to morph food consumption into a team-building exercise.
I was surprised to see that Matt now sat beside Darius and Aaron, leaving the seats across the table for Mari and myself.
Mari, me, and the Dragon.
Our sixth team member sat dark and quiet, consuming his supper with single-minded determination. His shoulders were so broad that I had to move my chair over before I took my seat and had Trix lie beneath it.
This close, I noticed how his scaled bodysuit hugged every curve of his physique. It sent my heart into palpitations. Usually I would consider the mohawk-style spikiness over his forehead to be an eye-rolling attempt at social rebellion, but the man was aDragon. And to be honest, the look worked for him.
The very long and braided center bit hung over the back of his chair. Combined with his high cheekbones, sharply defined jaw, and arched brows, the effect might be chocolate-level sexy, but also intimidating. It screameddon’t mess with me.
Which made sense. He was, after all, a Dragon.
My heart stuttered to a halt when I caught a sideways gleam from beneath partly lowered lids. They were almost all irises, with very little white showing, and they glittered as though filled with shiny metallic specks. He was damned tall, too, towering over me as I took my seat. Between him and Mari, I felt like a mouse.
“We didn’t actually introduce ourselves this morning,” I said to him. “I’m Anna.”
His head turned toward me, and for just a moment, his eyes glowed a vivid, deep blue. “Talakai.” His resonant rumble sent a thrill straight through me.
Just that single word, though, then he returned to his meal. Not a conversationalist, obviously. The whisper of wind against wing flitted through my mind. The beast in my dream had been dark—but it had been nighttime. This guy had gleamed indigo in the dappled sunlight of the path...
Pushing the memories aside, I took a forkful of what I assumed was meatloaf and tried not to stare at the arm next to me. Tried, but did not succeed. The bicep had a glittering band made from scales, but the forearm had a tattoo running along it—a beautifully wrought Dragon, its wings folded as it dove. Silvery lines crossed over and through it—scars, but single lines rather than the four parallels I’d seen on the other shifters, as well as the ones on my own arms.
Did all shifters carry scars? What had made those?
Across the table from Talakai, Matt ate with single-minded determination, eyes focused on his plate. Aaron started to speak, but his alpha raised a finger, and he subsided. I noticed, however, that his eyes glittered, and they seldom rose above my chest. He also had his chair pulled very close to the alpha’s, as though he wished to share his air.
Not just a dimwitted asshole, then, but also bonded to Darius in a rather unhealthy way. It didn’t feel like a balanced thing. Or even necessarily reciprocated.
Darius seemed to ignore Aaron most of the time. At the moment, the alpha stared at me with gleaming eyes and flared nostrils. As if daring me to challenge him? Or was he hoping I’d hop into his lap?
Either way, he was going to be disappointed. I lacked the necessary anatomy to measure dicks, and I most certainly wasn’t about to touch his. For any reason. Ever.
But I had to pull these fractured bits into a team. Judging by the tension running through everyone at the table, I had my work cut out for me.
I consumed a significant portion of my meal before I said anything at all. If this went south, I damned well wasn’t going without food.
The lack of spoken words was oppressive, and even Mari ate quietly. Finally, I looked up and met Darius’s gaze. His immediately glowed bronze in challenge.
“So, Darius. Where are you from?” I knew the answer. Just wanted him to tell me.
He blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. Perhaps because of that, he actually answered.
“Alaska.”
I raised my brows. “Wowsers. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.”
A true Neanderthal type would have ignored my efforts. But Darius proved his mettle when a light sparked in his eyes—recognition that the battle was taking a different path from anticipated. “It is. It is also wild as a caged grizzly. It can kill you in a moment if you turn your back on it. Makes us good ateverythingwe do.” His brows waggled, and he smirked at me, while Aaron laughed.
Translation—I grew up hard. Don’t mess with me. But if you want to screw me, I’ll show you what a caveman can do.
I kept my expression schooled to one of mild interest rather than the disgust I actually felt and acknowledged the undercurrents. “To live there, you must have to be tough.”
He lifted a lip back from a canine. “Yes.”
I looked at his cohort, Aaron. “Are you from the same family? I guess it’s called a pack, right?” No harm in cultivating the dumb-blonde myth.
Aaron glanced at Darius before he answered. “Sure am.”
