Page 38 of Falling for the Felid
“Yeah, that would make sense, right? But I’m not with anyone at the moment, and hooking up with a stranger every night is a lot of work.”
“Every night?” His voice is strangled, and I shrug.
“That’s what the hormones want. The morning after too. It might not be the smartest choice, but I just use my hand when I need to and then hook up with someone when I can’t handle it anymore. But it’s kind of random, not, like, regular.” I can’t believe I’m talking about my sexual habits with Ari Oensjord.
“That counts. For the study. Your hand, I mean.” His face is lightly flushed, but his eyes are back on me now. “Or at least, that’s what I was told when?—”
I wait for him to finish that sentence, but he just licks his lips, and it dawns on me. Ari’s in a sex study.
I pick up my drink and drain it.
“So,” I croak. “Did, uh, did your researcher friend have any advice for me?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. Yes. Well… he said he needs more data to understand what exactly is happening. But—Hold on, I took notes.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a square of paper, then unfolds it and smooths it on the table. I look at whathe’s written, but it’s not in English. It’s not even in an alphabet I can recognize.
“Is that your native language?” The question comes out on a whisper. I’m not sure why, but somehow, this is something that deserves my reverence. Now that the elves live here on Earth, assimilated into our cultures, will their children continue to learn the languages of their homeland? Or will they eventually be forgotten? I hope not. They’ve lost enough already without losing that too.
“Yes. I’m sorry, I should have thought to write it in English so?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “Of course you shouldn’t. But if you could tell me what it means, I’d be grateful.”
His smile flashes again, briefly, just enough to send a jolt of lust through me. “Dr. Griffiths said he’s had a sufficient number of pubescent shifters take part in the study to be able to draw some initial conclusions. Quite a few of those shifters joined prior to their puberty, so he has data from both before, during, and after to work with. And he has several athletes, though none are professionals like you.”
I sit up straighter. This sounds promising. “Go on.”
“He said he called a random sampling of participants to confirm the information in their files and ask some other questions, and that,” Ari picks up the paper and reads directly from it, “there is a direct correlation between mitigated symptoms and those who regularly had sex with a single partner. As yet it is unknown why or how the identity of the partner or why sexual intercourse versus masturbation had different effects on hormonal symptoms.”
The words swim around in my head, and I try to make sense of them. “Wait, wait… So… wait.” I stop.
“Having sex with the same person regularly might help,” he says quietly.
I blink fast a few times, because what? “Might?”
He shrugs. “Dr. Griffiths wasn’t willing to commit to it being definite without further data, but he said it’s most likely. Apparently every shifter in his study who went through puberty with a committed partner or partners—” He stops. “Wait, I missed that bit. He’s got a few polycules in the study, and he said their results were consistent with the others. So I guess if you had a few regular partners, that would work too, but the key element is regular. Not a different person every time.”
I exhale. “Wow.” That’s so trippy. And also really unfortunate for me. “Well, thanks for asking. Too bad I can’t take advantage of his advice.”
Clearing his throat, Ari meticulously refolds the paper and puts it away. “Actually, I was thinking… what if you could?”
My heart starts beating faster. “I don’t understand. I told you before, I’m not seeing anyone, not even a fuck buddy.”
“I know, but… you could. What I mean is, I would be willing—happy—to help you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ari
Felix stares at me,unblinking, for so long that I begin to worry that I’ve broken something in his brain. Embarrassment is hot on the back of my neck as I look away and swallow. Well. It was worth a shot, right? I didn’t expect him to be so horrified that he’d be speechless, but at least now I know for certain that he has no interest in me beyond friendship. I could have lived without his horrified reaction, but…
I guess I should say something—anything—to let him off the hook.
“No hard feelings if you’d rather not. It was just an idea.”
“Really?”
It’s almost a shout, and my gaze snaps to him immediately. He doesn’t look shocked anymore, just intense. And maybe a little pissed off and mean, which is surprisingly… arousing.
“You’re just going to say that to me in a restaurant and then act like you offered to carpool to work instead of—of…” He sputters to a halt, seeming to suddenly realize where we are and how many people have turned to look at where the loud voice is coming from.
