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Except when he turns into a spiky defence mechanism.

Fitzie arches a brow. “He looks European. You know, as a human.”

“I think he came from overseas. But also, that’s ridiculous. You can’tlookEuropean. There are, like, fifty countries in Europe.”

“You know what I mean! Like one of those English prep school boys.” He smirks. “Pretty.”

My face is getting hot.Prettyis definitely my type, much as I try to pretend I’m above being shallow. Lysander’s human form caught my eye the very first time we met. And his scent — posh, too, like an expensive cologne. But it didn’t take long to see there was so much more to him.

He’s brave, sweet, and open. I’ve never been afeel your feelingsguy, but with Lysander it’s almost compulsive to openup to him, to share things I’ve never shared. He lives in the moment, his reactions real, his needs on display.

With Jasper, everything was always fake. Big, over-the-top displays of affection. A different persona for every interaction — buddies, customers, even I got a tailored version of him. And when he finally un-masked, the person underneath was cold and self-centered.

Lysander is the opposite. Reserved and cool on the surface, but warm and needy and giving underneath. And god, I love it.

I spot him coming across the floor and my pulse kicks. He slides a drink in front of me and I wrap my arm around his waist as he leans into my chair. The tall stools put us almost at the same height.

“You want to sit?” I murmur in his ear.

“No.” He smiles, but his eyes are wary. I catch him glancing at Fitzie, who’s watching the stage.

“Stay.” I squeeze his soft waist. “He’s okay.”

“He hasn’t put it on.” Lysander looks worried.

“He just needs to adjust,” I reassure him.

Fitzie’s not like me, pushing through life without thinking, jumping into everything headfirst. He’s cautious about the stuff that matters. It makes my heart ache to think about why.

When Bear comes on stage, Lysander stiffens against me. He’s followed by a nymph in human illusion who bows to the cheering crowd with a cheeky grin. I do my best not to react to Lysander’s tension and give him space for whatever he’s feeling. Bear directs the nymph to hold the ring hanging from the ceiling and lift his left leg into his chest as Bear preps the rope. We have a great view from our table of the nymph’s bulging muscles as he tries to hold still under Bear’s hands.

Fitzie leans in. “Who’sthat? The big guy.”

“That’s Bear,” I tell him. “He’s the Dom who used to do a show with Lysander.”

“No, I mean.” Fitzie looks to either side of us, but no one’s paying attention. “What kind of… monster is he?”

“He’s a dragon.” Lysander answers him, leaning across me to speak quietly. His scent tickles my nose. “He’s one of the sons of the dragon king.”

Fiztie scrunches his nose. “He just looks like a normal guy.”

“To the un-enchanted eye, yes.”

“He’s got horns, a tail, and armored skin,” I interject. I recognize that look. “Plus his claws are so long and sharp, they could slice through those ropes in a heartbeat.”

Fitzie’s eyebrows go up. To my dismay, instead of being deterred, a spark of interest flickers in his eyes. “He’s actually a dragon?”

I groan. Fitzie goes through men like another person might go through tissues. “I don’t think he’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

“And you used to get tied up by him?” Fitzie glances at Lyander, then back to me, the question obvious.

“It was all highly professional. For him, it’s a way of life more than anything.” He answers diplomatically even though Fitzie all but asked if him and Bear used to be an item.

“So with Ezra, you guys…?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” I interrupt. Lysander bites his lip.

Fitzie smirks. “All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t mind if a guy like that was less than professional with me.”