by Chant, Zoe
“You can’t think all that,” she said, when he was done. She didn’t sound angry, just blankly shocked, like she was stating a fact, rather than starting an argument.
“Try and stop me,” Santos said. He looked down at Olivia, slowly falling asleep against his chest. “I’ve thought most of it from the moment we met. And everything you say about why you’re here and what you want for our clans only reinforces it. God, Athena, you were telling me how to reinforce the security on my home—there wasn’t any reason for you to do that. You want to help people.”
She was still staring hard at him. Then, to his utter surprise, she took a few quick steps forward, lifted up onto her toes, and kissed him.
Chapter 11: Athena
Athena truly, honestly, did not know what she was doing.
All she'd be able to say, in her own defense, was something like, He was just standing there with that look on his face, those impossibly gentle brown eyes, and saying those things, and I couldn't help myself.
Which was crazy, and stupid—what, she wasn't a grown woman who was perfectly capable of deciding when it was and wasn't a good idea to kiss somebody?—but there it was. She was up against Santos, now, pressed against that broad chest, his lips soft against hers, with Olivia right there between them.
His free hand landed gently on her waist, and he kissed back—sweetly. His lips molded to hers, his tongue softly exploring, and Athena could feel herself just...melt.
Then he pulled away.
Athena immediately made an irritated noise, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“What?” she demanded.
“I just wanted to make sure—or ask, I guess.” The smile was fading as he talked, his brows drawing in as he tried to say whatever he wanted to say.
Santos was always very careful with his words, and Athena was starting to realize that she liked that. Most of the men she knew didn't care what she thought about what they said, certainly wouldn't choose their words with her in mind when they said them. It was...nice.
“Ask what?”
“Why you're doing this. What you—want out of it.”
Athena sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Wasn't that just what she'd been avoiding thinking about?
“Don't you want it?” she fired back, trying to buy herself some time.
But Santos didn't play those kind of games, didn't get defensive or combative. “Of course I do,” he said. “I want it—so much. I just don't want it for the wrong reasons.”
Athena tried to figure out what her reasons were. If Santos would think they were right or wrong.
One of them was wrong, she knew. There was part of her that was thinking, Well, as weirdly noble and kind and thoughtful as he is, he's still a man. He's still going to be a caveman about this, at least. She'd been waiting all day for the other shoe to drop, for Santos to show his true colors, to reveal that actually, he really was too good to be true. And this seemed like the best way to do that, because this was the arena where men always showed their true colors.
But that wasn’t all of it. Because she knew there was another—tiny, high-pitched—part of her that wanted it all to be real. That wanted Santos to pass this dumb test, show how good of a man he really was, come through a one-afternoon stand with a woman he’d just met this morning with all of his virtues intact.
God, Athena was an idiot sometimes. What was she even going to get out of this stupid test? Nothing. She’d be in exactly the same position she was in right now, just more awkward.
But still—but somehow—
“I want to be closer to you,” she said finally, her voice coming out so quiet as to be almost inaudible. “I don't know. I've never met anyone like you before, and I just want—I want to have more of you. Than I've had so far.”
And that was the truth.
Santos looked at her with those warm brown eyes, searching her face for—what? A lie? The truth? Athena tried to look sincere.
“Let me go get Olivia that crib from downstairs,” he said finally. “And then—I want to be closer to you, too. Maybe we could explore that idea a little bit.”
His eyes twinkled. Athena frowned at him. “Are you joking?”
“A little,” he admitted. “I’m nervous. I wanted to lighten the situation.”
She stared at him. How did anyone survive, being so sincere all the time? “Go on, get the crib,” she said finally, holding out her arms for Olivia. “I’ll be here.”
He twinkled again as he handed the baby over. “Right back.”
He disappeared down the stairs, and Athena looked down at her daughter. Santos had transferred her gently enough that she hadn’t even stirred, still sleeping soundly.
“This is dumb,” she whispered to Olivia, too quietly for even a shifter to hear outside of the apartment. “This is so dumb.”
Of course, Athena had never been known for her smarts. Neither she nor Alaric were smart like Jeremiah and Shiloh were; they were good at action, at taking a stand, at being too stubborn for their own good. Not at strategy, manipulation, making elaborate plans.
On the other hand, if Athena had been smarter in the past, she wouldn’t have hooked up with a rival clan member and ended up with Olivia, so she supposed there were worse things. Of course, she’d had a lot of explaining to do back home, and it wasn’t like Mr. I’m The Sexiest Green Dragon You’ll Ever Meet had been any help—the opposite, really—so there were arguably better ways she could have ended up with a daughter.
No other ways she could’ve ended up with Olivia specifically, though, so she was chalking it up as a win.
So what, that’s a justification for this? Because one dumb decision gave you the most precious thing in your life, you’re just going to keep making dumb decisions, on the theory that that’ll keep working out for you?
I don’t know, she answered herself, suddenly exhausted. She didn’t want to have to strategize, to plan, to manipulate. She didn’t want to have to test Santos’ goodness, to account for every possible outcome, to decide whether this whole thing would be a win or a loss.
She’d been telling the truth. She just wanted to be closer to him. His eyes, his smile, his gorgeous body, his gentle hands. The way he looked at her. The way he was careful with her, the way he chose his words so thoughtfully, the way he made her a grilled cheese sandwich. The way he’d learned how to behave from that bizarrely nice woman who’d raised him, apparently.
She just wanted it. Everything about him was so nice and easy and beautiful. She wanted it all to be hers.
And it couldn’t be. She was going to have to leave him behind and go home, or the others would come looking for her, and it would all have been a terrible idea.
But maybe she could have it just for now.
The door opened, and Santos appeared with what must be a disassembled crib, moving easily despite the many, many pieces of wood hanging off of both of his arms.
“Can I help with that?” Athena asked belatedly.
He shook his head, smiling. “You’ve got the peanut. Just hang on a quick second, that’s all, I can assemble it no problem.”
He disappeared into the guest room, and Athena looked down at Olivia, somehow struck hard by the casual little way Santos had referred to her. The peanut. A cute nickname, like a dad might have for his daughter.
Athena had been adamant since she’d learned she was pregnant that she didn’t need Olivia’s dad around. And when Mr. I’m The Sexiest Green Dragon You’ll Ever Meet had learned about her, he’d been completely on board with that plan.
And she’d been grateful. She’d thought that it had been proof that she was justified in her insistence that she could raise Olivia all on her own. With occasional help from Uncle Alaric when it was absolutely necessary. But Olivia didn’t need a dad, because in Athena’s experience, all dads were pretty terrible.
Santos wouldn’t be a terrible dad, though. He’d smile, and call his baby peanut, and make it grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, a
nd build it a crib, and then later a big-kid bed. He’d hug it and laugh with it. He’d take it for family dinners with Grandma Rita and Grandpa Luis.
Athena blinked hard, suddenly, overcome with a rush of painful feeling. Stop it, she told herself. It was good that Santos would be a good dad. And she’d learned something, here. Not all dads were terrible. It was good that she knew that. Maybe Olivia, someday when she was grown up, could meet a non-terrible man to have her own babies with.
It was good, she reminded herself firmly.
Santos came back out of the room in much less time than she would have thought possible, dusting off his hands. “No mattress yet, but I folded up a couple of throw blankets nice and thick, and I think she’ll be comfy,” he said.
“I’m sure she will,” Athena said, swallowing down the lump in her throat and slipping past Santos—God, he even smelled amazing, that not-soap, not-shampoo scent that was him all way down to the ground—into the guest room.
He’d set the crib up in the corner, with the blankets folded neat and even so they were very like a little mattress, no stray folds or anything. Athena set Olivia carefully down, watching her for a minute to make sure she didn’t wake up. Then she took a deep breath and went back out into the hall.
Santos was waiting for her, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He looked completely nonthreatening, and Athena realized that that was on purpose when he said, “So, if you’ve changed your mind, or you want to wait a little while, or anything like that, that’s completely fine. Sometimes when you want something in the spur of the moment, later on—”
Athena determinedly went up to him, put a hand on his chest to keep him where he was, and kissed him.
His mouth was warm and rough, and he caught her close immediately, no hesitation at all once she’d made her intentions clear. She closed her eyes and let herself melt again.
Santos began gently, like before, a soft kiss with a thread of passion running through it. Then, it seemed like the passion rose up, overwhelming the gentleness—his arms tightened around her, his breath sounded low in his throat, and the kiss grew into something overwhelming. He was tasting her mouth, drinking her in, and heat rose in her body as she leaned up into it.
He broke away, breathing hard. “Okay?”
Now that she was looking for it, she could see how he was maintaining an ironclad control over his desire. It just made her want him more. “Where's your bedroom?” she asked.
His eyes darkened, and he led her across the hall to a bright, spacious room—she was tempted to comment on his windows again, but she didn't want to distract from the issue at hand—with a king-sized bed covered in another quilt like the one in her room.
Athena had a second where she thought, Wait, what am I even doing?—but it was derailed when she turned and saw Santos again. And not just his gorgeous body, but the look in his eyes.
This can’t be real, said a voice in the back of her head. Men just aren’t like this.
Well, she thought back at it, we’ll prove it, then. If it isn’t real, he’ll be just like any other man, and it’ll be clear that this was all he was after. But if it is...
And then both voices were cut off, because Santos came forward and took her in his arms again.
Fiery heat blazed inside, licking up from the pit of her stomach. She pulled Santos into a kiss, and this time it wasn't sweet or soft. Athena tasted his mouth, deep and passionate. She was filled with a sudden, deep desire to get all the way inside him, see once and for all how he worked. Why he was like this.
Santos groaned as she pressed up against him, his hands sliding down her back to spread over her hips, thumbs slipping under the waistband of her jeans. The sensitive skin underneath tingled with his touch, and Athena broke away long enough to say, “Clothes off.”
“Agreed,” he panted, and they somehow managed to keep their hands off each other long enough to strip, quick and efficient, until they were both naked and could crash back into each other in a flurry of skin and limbs.
His hands cupped her breasts, and God, they were huge, big and warm and rough with callouses. The slight drag against her softest, most sensitive skin made her eyes roll back. One hand slipped down to caress her side, cup her hip, his thumb stroking up and down, up and down—driving her crazy with the tiniest touch.
She pressed up against him, needing more, her own fingers biting into his shoulders, making him groan and kiss her harder, his hand clenching on her hip. Yes. She needed this, needed every enormous inch of him, hot and hard and hers.
It was Athena who tipped them over onto the bed, ending up on top, straddling Santos' hips and looking down at him. He grinned up at her, with a playfulness she hadn't seen in him yet. “You win,” he told her. “Got plans for your victory?”
“I'm claiming my prize,” she said, reaching down between them.
When she closed her hand around his erection, his eyes closed and he groaned again, a full-body shudder moving through him. Athena could feel herself getting wet at the noise, the sight of him undone by her.
And by the sight of him, full stop. He was glorious naked, all light-brown skin and muscle, thick dark chest hair, fascinating planes and valleys that Athena felt like she could look at for hours.
Some other time.
Right now, she was too impatient, and she was willing to bet he was, too. His cock was hard in her hand, and she could feel his pulse in it, just like she could feel her own between her legs. Slowly, she positioned herself over him, waiting.
When the head of his cock brushed up against her opening, his eyes flew open. “Athena.”
It sounded like her name had been ripped out of him. She couldn't wait any longer, hearing it, and lowered herself down onto him in one aching slide.
He made a desperate noise. “Wait,” said Athena, despite herself—he was big enough that she needed a minute to adjust, for her body to acknowledge that yes, this was right, this was good, this was what it wanted.
And then it got there, and all she wanted was for them to move. So she flipped them.
Santos spent about half a second being surprised that he was suddenly on top, and then his eyes darkened, and he started to move.
With the first thrust, Athena’s eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure. She’d never felt so thoroughly filled before. The way his cock pressed up against all the best spots, how deep he went, how thick he was—it seemed to overwhelm her nerves, leaving her weak and shuddering and gasping, “There, right there, oh God, don’t stop—”
“Not stopping,” he growled, thrusting harder, leaning in to bite at her collarbone. “Don’t worry. Athena, I’m not going to stop.”
She never wanted him to stop. It felt like—it felt like it was more than just pleasure, more than just her nerves being overwhelmed. It was like she could let go, for the first time in as long as she could remember. Like she knew that Santos was there to catch her.
Like she could feel him not just inside her body, but inside her mind.
Yes, her dragon purred. Let him in.
Athena let him in. She relaxed and leaned back, let him fill her, and it felt like a golden light was enveloping her—not just with pleasure, but with joy.
“Athena,” Santos said, deep and almost pained-sounding, and she opened her eyes and met his—dark and wide and wondering, and she never wanted to look away.
“Santos,” she whispered, and pulled him into a kiss.
He licked at her mouth, biting softly, tasting her as he thrust deep into her body. Athena wrapped him up in her arms and moved with him. The pleasure was like a wave that rocked them both, getting higher and stronger, ready to carry them away with it.
When she came, her whole body spasmed, her fingers clutching. She bit down on Santos’ shoulder, wanting to hold on to him in every way she possibly could as she clenched and gasped in pleasure.
He followed her right over, thrusting fast and hard and then spilling with a muffled roar. She was still riding the
aftershocks, wet and hot and rippling all through her body, and she breathed him in and luxuriated in it, never wanting it to end.
Eventually, of course, it had to. The pleasure would fade, and they’d be left catching their breath and meeting each other’s eyes, realizing what had just happened.
And in Athena’s experience, this was always the worst part of sex—when the pleasure was over, and everyone blinked back to reality and realized that they’d made a terrible mistake. Having to get up and find your clothes, moving awkwardly and quickly, hoping that no one would say anything weird and that it could all just be over as fast as possible.
So she kept waiting for that moment. When she’d look at Santos and think, Oh, God, what was I thinking? I just met this guy! I’m staying in his home because of his kindness! Our clans are literally at war with each other!
It kept on not happening. The moments stretched out, long and golden and warm, and Santos held her close, and she listened to his heartbeat, his slow breaths, and she was still just filled with this...bizarre joy. The closest thing she could compare it to was when she’d held Olivia for the first time, after she was born. This sense of impossible closeness and overwhelming happiness, burning out anything else she could possibly be feeling in that moment.
Santos’ eyes were closing, and she could feel him drifting off into sleep. Athena smiled fondly—
—and then her eyes flew open.
Why could she feel him drifting off into sleep?
But she could. More than just because of his breathing, more than just that his eyes were closing—which she couldn’t see, anyway, at her angle—she knew he was dropping into a doze, happy and comfortable.
A suspicion began, in the back of her mind. Carefully, she closed her eyes and thought about Santos.
Warmth immediately bloomed in her chest. That golden glow increased in strength, and she was aware of him, a full-body awareness of his sleepy mind. As though he were still inside her.
And then, the icing on the cake, her dragon let out a contented sigh and thought, Mate.