Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

pick up a white plate. Nudging her with his hip, he urged her toward the kitchen island. “Sit down, bellmia .”
    Sit where? Across from crazy-eyed Wick? No freaking way. “Ah, I’m really not that hun—”
    “Here.” Venom slid out of his seat and patted the back of his chair. “You can have my spot, Myst. I’m done anyway.”
    Okay. What to do…what to do?
    Running sounded good, but impolite, too. Besides, leaving now would only get her more of the same. A bird’s eye view of the corridor when she needed the lay of the land…all the exits off the island. An X marks the spot sort of thing, and as she debated whether to be rude and walk away or play nice and take a seat, she scanned the wide archway on the other side of the kitchen. A dining room sat beyond and to the right of that? Double French doors.
    Myst sat, murmuring her thanks to Venom.
    “So…Myst.” Planted in the archway, Venom propped his shoulder against one of the timber-beam posts. “You from Seattle?”
    “Leave her alone, man,” Sloan grumbled around a mouthful of waffle. He threw her an apologetic look. “Sorry. He’s a total pain in the a—ah, butt.”
    Venom made a face. “What? Just curious. Nothing wrong with that.”
    Feeling as if she’d fallen into the Twilight Zone , her gaze bounced between the two men. “I was born in LA. My mom moved us up here when I was four.”
    “Ooh, a Cali-girl.” Without warning, Venom started singing his version of “California Gurls” by Katy Perry, fingers snapping to the beat.
    “Christ,” Rikar said, sounding disgusted even though a smile threatened.
    Sloan groaned, both hands over his ears. “Please, God. Make it stop.”
    The comment pushed Myst over the edge and, unable to hold it back, she huffed. As soon as she laughed, Venom stopped serenading them to grin at her. God, they were almost charming. Except for Wick, who just stared like he was busy taking her measurements for a roasting pan.
    “Here.”
    Warm with a hint of maple syrup, Bastian’s breath curled against the side of her neck. His heat came next, gloving her shoulders as his arms came around her from behind. Surrounded by his scent, Myst breathed him, staring at the plate loaded with waffles and fruit slices that he set in front of her.
    Utensils made an appearance next, clinking against marble. With slow precision, he straightened the silverware next to her plate, prolonging contact with her. Myst wanted to argue, to push him away, but…wow. The guy was delicious, all hard muscle and glorious heat.
    He hummed next to her ear, like he knew what kind of effect he had on her. The rat. “Eat your breakfast, baby.”
    Her mouth went dry. Myst swallowed, working moisture back, and stifled a shiver. God, he was dangerous. And she was playing with fire. No matter how attractive she found him, she couldn’t allow herself to go down that road. It was full of potholes, ones deep enough to lose herself in if she let him charm her.
    Rotating her shoulder, she bumped his chest. The silent message was simple…back off. No slouch in the brains department, Bastian stepped away, giving her the room she needed to adjust her hold on the baby. After she settled him, she picked up her fork and realized…
    Bastian had cut her waffle into neat, bite-sized squares. As he drizzled syrup over her breakfast, Myst bit her tongue, resisting the urge to thank him. But she wanted to so badly that her teeth ached. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have hesitated. After all, he was feeding her, caring for her in a way that felt too good for words. All that Dr. Feel-good, though, was a problem. A potential pothole in the making.
    The little things mattered, and something small like, oh, say gratitude (pothole number one) would turn into trust (pothole number two). Trust would inevitably circle into closeness, then take a nosedive into curiosity (potholes number three and four). And curious was not where Myst wanted to be with Bastian. All that would lead to was more nakedness. Which would…
    Yeah, no use going there. Hot, wild sex needed to stay off her radar.
    A knowing light in his eyes, Bastian nudged her plate. “Eat, bellmia .”
    With a nod, Myst speared a bit-sized square. The outside crunched before her forked pushed through to the fluffy center. As she brought it to her mouth, she almost moaned. Yum. It was pure heaven, melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The second bit of sugary perfection made her close her eyes. Man, oh,