Page 11 of Delivered to My Serpents

“Tell us more about your work,” I said. I didn’t know much about romance novels, and even less about how the covers were produced.

Instead of messaging us back, she initiated another video chat.

When she popped up on the screen, we saw the real and raw Jasmine. Stripped of makeup. In silky button-up pajamas. Hair up in a whacky bun. Black-rimmed glasses on her head.

“Hey, guys. I sent you both a link to my website where my custom covers and my pre-mades are listed.”

We had seen the site, of course, but this time, I really looked. The website had been around for years. Anything less would’ve been a bit of a red flag. If she was pretending to be our mate in order to get close to us for nefarious reasons, then the site would be younger. It wasn’t. We even took a look at her PayPal transactions going back to the first week her website launched.

Her book covers, spanning from two people kissing to thorns and roses on the front, weren’t cheap either. Her income didn’t come close to ours, but she made a good living.

“See anything you like?” she asked. “Are you two considering writing a serpent shifter romance?”

Naga snorted. “Of course not. I’ve never even read a romance.”

Her beautiful full lips made an O. “Well, that’s a shame. It’s like a vacation in word form.”

“Reading is a vacation to you?” I asked.

“For me? Yes. All of my friends are mated. I haven’t been as lucky in that department. I pretend it’s okay, but really it’s not. Was that too much information?”

Quite the contrary. It might’ve been the most genuine thing she’d said so far.

“What about your parents? Are you close to them?”

She cocked her head and looked at the ceiling. No matter our qualms, she was adorable like this. No pretenses. No makeup. Sitting in an older lavender velvet chair with the side of her bed barely in view. “I love them. I do. But they are constantly on me about getting married and finding a real job. I see them when the calendar tells me to, you know? How about you two?”

“We rarely talk to our parents. They don’t know how to deal with us after… They say we changed during our overseas service.”

She nodded. “Sometimes people don’t know how to deal with me either. As though I’m someone to be handled. Christmases are awkward to say the least.”

That made me laugh. “Good thing we don’t celebrate Christmas.”

After that, we got into a discussion where we talked about how material and bullshit holidays had become. She disagreed, insisting that if it weren’t for the pressure to find her other half, holidays were awesome. Other than Thanksgiving, we hadn’t celebrated any in years.

“Okay, okay, but no Christmas tree? Come on,” she said, laughing.

“No,” Naga said.

“Well,” she said, slapping her thigh. “I’ll have to bring mine. It’s pink, so get ready.” A pause hung between us. “Shit. Sorry. That was presumptuous. Implying I’d be there for the holidays.”

Something about that big word coming from her sweet mouth nailed me to the floor. “Why don’t you?” Naga asked her.

“Why don’t I what?”

Naga looked at me, and I gave a short nod. We’d known one another for so long, words weren’t always needed. “We’ve decided we want you to come here, Jasmine,” he said. “We want to get to know you better and for you to get to know us. I think ninety days is the app standard, but whatever you can do would be great.”

She nodded, rose red blooming on her cheeks. “I can manage that. My work goes with me. But there’s one problem.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t do planes.”

Chapter Nine

Naga

I trusted planes more than trains but Jasmine insisted airplanes freaked her out. Something about the recycled air and barreling through the air in a glorified coke can with peanut and water bottles not big enough to quench a fairy’s thirst.

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