Page 20 of Lessons with the Mothman

Because you have experience watching them have sex?I wondered.Or having sex with them?Neither question was relevant.

I inhaled deeply and released it with a soft nod. "All right. I'm ready."

"Good. Hopefully, they haven't started without us."

I thought Elias was joking, but when we arrived in the large room with an enormous king bed at the center, as if it were a stage, it was clearsomethingwas taking place. Except there was too much to see all at once—the velvet curtains draping down the walls, a hint of sunlight bleeding through from the far wall, the lighting that had been arranged on tracks, bulbs turned to the bed like spotlights, the low seating bordering the bed at every side. My face heated in understanding. Elias had made sure that I would have a thorough view, that we might move about the room, watching this pair.

And there they were, perched at the edge of the bed, a huge white minotaur with a dark snout and brown ears, nuzzling into the inky black hair of the elegant naga at his side. I'd never seen a naga in person, and I now had an obstructed eyeful. I wasn't sure what clothing someone who was half snake and half human in appearance might wear, and I still wouldn't know because Cyril was already naked, bronze brown chest gleaming, long indigo blue tail twisting like liquid over the edge of the bed, around his lover and?—

Oh. Down into Cyril's trousers.

"I believe I told you that the interview would take place before the display," Elias greeted them dryly.

Atlas chuffed, ruffling Cyril's long hair, and turned to face us, ears tipping down in what somehow read as a minotaur's equivalent of a blush.

"We got bored," Cyril said simply, offering me a fanged smile. He had vivid green eyes with slitted pupils, high cheekbones, and slightly longer than human nostrils, but he was undeniably beautiful with an otherworldly grace.

Atlas reached down to his lap, and Cyril's more slender end of his tail slipped free of the partially undone waistband as the minotaur rose to his full and enormous height. It was a good thing Elias had outrageously high ceilings, because I was sure Atlas was at least eight feet tall. His arousal, swollen firmly against the tight fit of his pants, down into the left pant leg, wasgenerouslyproportional.

I wondered if I could back out into the hall and steal another few minutes of being overwhelmed alone.

Atlas offered me a slight bow. "Cyril is incorrigible. And he wants you to know how excited he" —Cyril cleared his throat and arched a sharp brow— "weare to help you with your study."

Cyril leaned back on the heels of his hands, the many muscles of his abdomen tensing, and I realized with growing amusement that he was showing off. For me, or for Elias? Perhaps the whole room. To be fair, he was so beautiful he rightly deserved a larger audience. He leaned forward, rising up on his tail, and then I thought maybe he just needed to work his core that much for the sake of his own movement.

"I've always found intelligence stimulating," Cyril purred, offering me a heavy lidded glance.

"Quit flirting," Elias said, just a hint of a snap. "Her study is important to her."

Cyril just grinned and batted heavy lashes at Elias. "I prefer to call it 'admiration.' 'Study' makes me feel like an insect."

My eyes widened at the obvious insult to Elias, whose wings shivered at his back.

"Would you say you're posturing for dominance at the moment?" I asked, stepping forward, gesturing between Cyril and Elias.

Cyril blinked at me and then released an airy laugh, curling his tail beneath him and settling into the cushion it provided. "My kind tends to flirt…aggressively. So, yes, a bit of that, and a bit just to see if I can rile the fae. He's too composed."

I nodded as Elias huffed and slipped behind me, sitting down on one of the benches he'd arranged.

"Would you say you flirt more with verbal sparring, or physical touch?" I asked, pulling my recorder from my bag.

Cyril swayed in my direction, head tilting invitingly. "Would you like to find out?"

"With a verbal answer, yes," I said.

Atlas stuffed his hands in his pockets, laughing silently, his broad shoulders shaking, and Cyril's eyes glinted at me, some internal debate waging for a moment before he sighed.

"Verbal sparring is the invitation. If it's accepted, I move quickly to physical. That's common amongst Nagavanshi."

"Is the physical competition aggressive as well?"

Atlas grunted but ducked his head and let Cyril answer. "Very. We like to trap, to test the strength of our partner. Coiling is common."

"Coiling?"

Cyril glanced at Atlas, who lifted his head, full mouth curving as he nodded. Cyril straightened, chest broadening, and snapped quickly upward, tail lashing out and wrapping itself around Atlas's waist, dragging him closer as Cyril swirled around, delicate tail end settling around the minotaur's ankle, Cyril's arms draped over Atlas's shoulders, his head tucked under a sharp horn, their cheeks pressed together. Atlas's arms tensedand swelled against Cyril's thick, scaled body, and his hips rocked forward, making the pair of them wobble in place.

"Is the goal to see if they can free themselves? Like a challenge?"

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