Scales and Tall Tails: An Excerpt

Zion
My mouth was tacky and bladder aching, I couldn’t get back to dreamland. Sleep deprivation was the quickest way to piss me off. If there was one thing I hated more than okra, it was the lack of sleep. Kicking sheets, I mumbled curses and planted both feet on the floor. Thank gods for night lights and the mister. My skin wasn’t itchy or flaky. I basked for a few more seconds as tepid water graced my face.
Frustrated with my pushy bodily functions, I plodded to the bathroom and got the job done. After a brief wash and rinse, I checked the duffel. Whatever was in there had weight to it. Papa was gonna owe me for this. Then again, I was living in their house, tax-free. I didn’t even pay for food. Maybe this was my way of kicking in.
Slouching thanks to terrible posture and exhaustion, I shuffled from the washroom in search of hydration. Halfway to the kitchen, I stopped dead and stared at an empty couch.
I didn’t see another body in his bed, and—Scraps clothes were on the floor. I knew for damn sure he wasn’t in the bathroom.
I crept forward but kept eyes pinned to the floor. Walking in on a naked man was rude, but my tongue was stickier than normal, and I had problems swallowing.
Water called for me like a starving siren. Licking parched lips, I inched closer and halted at the sight of a twitching beaded tail.
Oh, hopping locusts, this was fucked up. I tracked the rattle and widening tail straight into the refrigerator. This was worse than catching a glimpse of lazy dick or pert ass.
A whole hell of a lot worse. Because I, Zion Armani Horner, developed a snake kink in two-point-five seconds. It was specific to the male lamia. Maybe the one with his head in the ice box.
Curls cascaded, tickling his wide, muscular back. Cords tugged with tension and flexed while I slumped. He sat on his coiled, iridescent tail, snacking on food I wished to become.
Scrap had filled out. He was at least a foot taller and toned. His human half was husky and thick, soft-bellied with a sexy amount of jiggle. It was a thing, and I loved it. This was—he really was two-faced.
I coughed to get his attention and regretted it. Scrap whipped around so fast I winced and stammered.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked.
I heard nothing. Motor functions ground to a halt thanks to his overt beauty. At forty years old, one might assume they’d seen everything. And you know what? They’d be wrong.
I’d never been this close to a lamina. I had never shared space with them, and I ain’t never stared one in the face.
“Oh, shit, right…” Scrap slapped his forehead and scrubbed. “Uhhhh, I can shift back. I gotta put my clothes on though, soooo…”
Even his voice dropped a few octaves! I was impressed and overwhelmed. Scrap was heavy with them reptilian eyes, fangs, and bawdy. Fuck I was changing colors… green so fucking green. Neon, bright, highlighter shade. It was chameleon-speak for ‘fuck me’. A mating color. I was begging at this point, a fellow chameleon would have had me on the floor by now.
I didn’t give a shit about my mother’s disappointment. I was overgrown, and if I chose to pause my standards for the night, I could!
Scrap didn’t know about our mating display, though he might clock the sauna between my thighs if his tongue came out to play.
The large man glided to his clothes and reached.
“No!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, startling him. “No. I mean, this is your house. If you want to slide or wriggle around, so be it. I won’t put out—put you out.”
My stomach gurgled as I rubbed it. I didn’t wanna toot in front of him again, but I was getting nervous.
“You sure? I might get hungry and you…never know.”
I wish you would.
An ugly snort escaped, making my tummy roll. Once an awkward geek, always!
“I just wanted some water. I can’t even swallow.”
“Shame,” Scrap rasped, slinking into the kitchen.
My color faded from green to pink. His joyful chirp did nothing to hide the sexual undertone. I was in deep shit with this man. Scrap was younger than me, sold bones, and was like a happy-clueless—
Scrap offered an open bottle of water and lingered at my side. His low-lidded gaze shimmered and flexed. I smiled and nodded. It was all I had.
“Thank you, uhm…” I tipped the Arctic Spring and gulped every drop. After swigging sixteen ounces, I burped. “I needed that. It’s always weird waking up after getting blitzed. I remember when my ex-husband and I used to sneak weed into our dorm. What a time.”
I sighed and dragged attention back to a scary quiet Scrap. He stood in the kitchen, gripping the exposed pipes above his head. What a fucking pose. I only saw such debauched things in movies.
Healthy brown skin tapered at the waist where scales caressed him. And because I loved shiny things, I was drawn to their shimmer. With no thinking on my part, I advanced toward the stocky Rattler and almost touched his scale-painted hands.
“I’m sorry… can I—“
“I want you to.”
A bit bashful and gassy, I set the empty bottle on the breakfast bar and grasped his claw-tipped appendage. Two of mine equaled one of his. Palm down, I admired the elegant pattern and stroked his delicate, festooned fingers.
The shining star swirling within my bosom was hard to ignore and name.
“How long were you married?” Scrap asked.
“Ten years. He left.”
“Sad.”
I smiled at the sarcasm and flipped his hand. I poked and traced life-lines. Scrap’s palm was gray and smooth, like the delicate underbelly of a cobra.
“Were you happy?”
“I was happier with him gone. Buuuut, I couldn’t pay the tax, utilities, or groceries. Hell, I couldn’t even afford a bag of fast food schlep.”
Sighing again, I righted the man’s hand, splayed fingers, and sized him up. The tips of my digits met his second knuckle.
“Because I was your standard, happy and grateful traditional mate,” I went on to say, trying not to mount this man. “I had no job, and my thespian dreams meant nothing. Thanks to our government gasping its last breath, theater is dead. So, I moved back in with my folks. Were you ever married?”
“No,” Scrap rasped. “And good thing too, ‘cause if I was, I’d be somewhere else. Bored and probably miserable. You wouldn’t be touching me right now, and I wouldn’t be hurtin’ to make your legs shake.”