Page 3 of Love Bites Extra Hard

As expected.

I hated that I liked that, but I did.

“If you leave my bag here, people are going to think you abducted me.” I slipped my hands in the pockets of my jeans to warm them. They were loose on the legs, but fitted everywhere else, and definitely not baggy. I hated baggy jeans. There was too much fabric, and nowhere for it to go.

I felt the same way about my hair, too. There was too much of it, and it drove me crazy. Which was why the long, straight dark strands were pretty much always tied up in a bun or back in a braid. It was easier to tie back when it was long, so I didn’tbother cutting it. A few strands always escaped, but I could ignore them.

A soft breeze made goosebumps break out on my arms. It was the middle of winter, but there was no snow on the ground. Snow never stuck in Mistwood. It just wasn’t cold enough.

I was still shivering a little in the tight, black cropped long-sleeved tee I had on, though. My beat-up white sneakers weren’t keeping my toes warm, either. They were always cold.

Talon scowled. “I don’t care.”

“Are you really ready to go to war with all of the other kings, Tal?” I shortened his name, just to see how he would react. I wanted to know how bad his temper was, and if I was in danger with him. More than the basic, expected amount of danger, at least.

His scowl became a glare, but he didn’t move to hurt me. I knew I was screwed up when every part of my body screamed “green flag”. As if a man not hurting me for shortening his name was all it took to be a saint.

“Fine. We’re leaving,” he finally said.

Wow.

He actually let me win.

That felt like a literal miracle.

He shifted back without warning, and tossed his gigantic, scaly head toward his back.

He wanted me to get on.

His monstrous feet were squashing some part of Blair’s minigolf course, but she wouldn’t care. Golf course repairs were cheaper—and safer—than war.

“I don’t know how you expect me to get on your back. My arms aren’t that long.” I raised one, to prove how short they were. I was way below the top of his scaly neck.

He huffed at me.

I waited.

Reluctantly, he lowered his head to the ground. His shoulders still reached nearly the top of my head.

I grimaced, but set my hands on one of his shoulders. His scales were smooth, and crazy hot. Blissfully hot. I wanted to snuggle up against him for warmth, but that was my crazy side again. I couldn’t listen to that bitch.

I threw all my energy into trying to pull myself up. My abs flexed. My ass did, too. My heart pounded. My hair tangled in my mouth. I pulled and fought and wrestled, but after a minute of scrambling, my feet were on the cement again. My arms and abdomen were scratched and bleeding, too. His scales had felt smooth at first, but their edges were sharp.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “You’re too big. Or I’m too small.”

He growled at me, two streams of smoke beginning to float from his nostrils.

Crap.

I stepped back, showing him my arms. “I’m bleeding, Talon. I can’t get up there.”

He shifted back instantly, stepping up in front of me. His body was so much bigger than mine up close to me like that, but I tried to breathe through the sudden surprise.

He caught one of my wrists and lifted my arm to inspect the wounds. “My scales did that?”

“It was probably my fault.”

He scoffed, and his gaze caught on something on the ground near my shoes. His hand tightened on my wrist before he crouched down and picked it up. It was a smooth, palm-sized, reddish-orange scale.

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