Page 23 of It's In His Hiss

She smiles sleepily at the ceiling, like she sees constellations up there. “Mmm. I can’t feel my legs, my thighs are vibrating like a phone on silent, and I’m pretty sure I high-fived a snake with my vagina.”

I huff out a laugh—an actuallaugh—and the sound surprises me. It feels foreign. Joyful.New.

“That’s… not medically possible,” I say, muffling my words against her collarbone. She smells like magic and sweat and bakery sugar, and I’d like to live in that scent forever.

“I don’t know, Gordy. He wasveryinvolved.”

Sheila lifts her head, blinking slowly at Alice like she’s deeply impressed and mildly judging. Then she hisses. Soft. Smug.

Alice gives her a salute. “Appreciate the support, Sheila.”

I groan into her shoulder. “You’re still calling her Sheila?”

“She earned the name,” Alice replies, grinning. “She’s part of the team now. Team‘Wreck Alice’s Entire Nervous System Through Passion and Unrelenting Gorgon Goodness.’”

“You need shorter team names.”

She rolls toward me and cups my cheek, her thumb brushing through the stubble there like she’s mapping me, learning me, memorizing every scar and soft spot. I go still. Watch her watching me.

And when she speaks—soft, serious, eyes gleaming—something in my chest comes undone.

“I meant it,” she whispers. “Earlier. I wanted it to be you. Firsts are weird and messy and full of pressure. But with you? It felt right. Like… I was waiting for this without even realizing it.”

Gods.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman, this magic, thismoment,but I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows how much shematters. How much shewreckedme—in the best way.

“I didn’t want to be with anyone after I changed,” I tell her, barely breathing. “Since I became… this.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. She simply traces her thumb over my lips and murmurs, “Thisis beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

And then she kisses me.

Slow. Sweet. Sleepy.

Like we’ve got nowhere to be and a lifetime to be there together.

Then her stomach gurgles like a baby dragon trying to escape a treasure chest.

We both freeze.

Alice groans. “Was that me or one of your snakes?”

“Hard to say.” I grin. “Could’ve been Sheila. She’s very food-motivated.”

I sit up and stretch, snakes yawning with me. One curls lazily around my shoulder like it’s settling in for a sitcom.

“Stay here,” I order, scanning the room for where my jeans launched themselves during the chaos. “I’ll get us snacks.”

“You keep post-sex snacks on hand?”

“Sweetheart, I have all kinds of food. Even cupcakes. I’m not a monster.”

Alice flops onto her back, sighing like a cat in a sunbeam. “You kind of are. But in the best way.”

I pad into the kitchen, still a little dazed, still half-hard and fully in the moment. My snakes slither around me, sluggish and satisfied, like a Greek god version of a conga line.

I rummage in the fridge. I have leftover chocolate cupcakes, half a chocolate croissant, and one suspicious container that may or may not contain sentient jam.

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