“You can have your fucking phone back when Dragos says you can,” Pia told her. “Niniane is clearly struggling with something. Remember that you love her, give her a break, and when she feels safe enough to talk about it, she will. Now, my baby is asleep upstairs, and I want him to stay that way. You can either come in and behave yourself, and have something to eat, or you can head back to New York right now.”

As she spoke a glimmer of sanity crept into Aryal’s stormy gaze. “Uh… I guess I’ll have something to eat.”

“You know where the kitchen is.” Pia stepped to one side. As Aryal shouldered past them, Pia looked at Dragos. Somewhere in the middle of her little speech, his own anger had eased. He looked at her with his eyelids half closed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She shrugged impatiently. “What?”

“I love it when you get dictatorial,” he murmured. Hooking one arm around her waist, he pulled her close for a deep kiss.

Holy gods, he was impossible to resist when he decided to turn on the sexy. Melting against him, she hooked one arm around his neck as he slipped the tip of his tongue—just the tip—between her lips. He made a nearly inaudible sound of frustration.

If she didn’t put on the brakes now, she didn’t know if she could stop. Pulling back, she searched his face. What’s going on with you? she asked telepathically. You seem unusually grouchy this evening.

Reluctant humor gleamed in his hot gold gaze. Don’t mind me. I’m just feeling cockblocked. By this time of night, I had expected us to be on round two of sex. This would have been the slow round, with my head between your legs. The one where I don’t stop, no matter how you might scream or beg.

Oh wow, she said stupidly. A wave of heat washed over her, like smoke from the dragon’s breath curling around her body, and an empty hunger liquified between her legs. That sounds amazing.

The heat in his scrutiny intensified until it sizzled the air. He slipped one hand between her thighs to cup her. You okay there, lover?

He was never one for sweet talk or endearments, except, occasionally, that one. She tried to clear her throat, and it came out a whine. I—I’m not sure I am.

“Hey, you guys mind if I eat this bacon in the fridge?” Aryal shouted.

The hand between her thighs clenched into a fist. Dragos made that nearly inaudible noise again, a frustrated growl so quiet it was just a vibration. Pulling away, Pia clapped both hands over her mouth and snorted with laughter.

Aryal strode into the hall, carrying the Tupperware container. She shook the container at them. “Bacon?”