“You know…”

Xilonen’s spotted tail snakes sharply around your stubby one, fine fur tangling with wild tufts until you can’t tell where hers ends and yours begins. A low rumble stirs in her chest, and her dark-painted lips graze your jaw like a restless cat begging for affection. Which, in her case, she literally is.

Her claws curl and drag down your shoulder with a slow, deliberate sensuality, pricking at the flesh of your bicep before her hand settles there. Compared to her own, your arm is meatier—easy to hold. Easy to claim. Her thumb swirls once over the faint outline of a vein before drifting lower, sliding across muscle until it rests at your hip.

When you turn your head toward her, her spotted ears flick back, and she leans into the movement, mouth finding the thin edge of your ear. Sharp teeth worry the delicate flesh until you let out a whine—and her purrs only deepen, pleased, rumbling loud enough to fill the space between you.

“You’re quite the canine, aren’t you?”