Page 54 of Hungry As Her Python

Not gracefully.

Not with any kind of sultry sway.

Just solid, irritated footfalls that said if you don’t want my goodies, then you don’t get my goodies.

I didn’t make it halfway to the porch before he was suddenly there.

“I didn’t say no, Bella,” Conrad murmured, right in front of me.

Goddess, help me, he moved like water—smooth, inevitable, and impossible to stop.

I’d been around Shifters before, but there was something about the way he covered ground that felt more like sorcery than speed.

One second, he was yards away, the next he was filling my vision, his firm, warm hand closing around my elbow.

My magic reacted before I could stop it—pink sparks skittering under my skin, heat curling low in my belly.

“Up to you,” I mumbled, unwilling to meet his gaze because I knew if I did, I’d drown in those emerald eyes.

I slipped free of his touch and led the way up the cobblestone path. My deep burgundy door stood out against the beige siding like a bold lipstick choice on bare skin.

Inside, the space reflected my moods.

A buttery yellow kitchen with a monster eight-burner stove and four ovens.

Cozy natural wood cabinets with frosted glass doors.

A living room designed with calming blues and grays.

And finally, my bedroom, which was done in all soft mauves and cream.

Comfortable. Safe. Mine.

A flick of my fingers and a shimmer of pink-white magic unlocked the door, my wards whispering their approval.

The Draco Fortis security system—a blend of cutting-edge technology and old-world spellcraft designed by a Dragon Shifter who lived not too far from Castor’s Corner in Maccon City—hummed quietly in the background.

The place smelled faintly of lemon sugar and home.

“Smells great in here, Sugar,” Conrad said, stepping in close enough to brush a kiss over my cheek.

It wasn’t a hungry kiss—not yet—but my skin still flared hot at the contact.

“Follow me,” I managed, keeping my voice neutral, even as my heart was trying to beat a hole in my ribs.

In the kitchen, I busied myself plating a couple of lemon bars, pretending I couldn’t feel his eyes on me. “Tea?”

“That would be great, Maribella,” he said, voice husky enough to slide right under my robe.

The kettle went on.

The scent of fresh-cut lemon and warm sugar filled the space between us.

He smelled of pine needles, damp earth, and something sharper—clean, wild air that made me think of the pine barrens where I’d just been.

Had he been there, watching?

It was a Shifter thing—staying close to their mates.