Did she mean . . . his heart?
He’d been confused before. Now? He didn’t know how he should react, what he should say.
She continued lower, sending his mind into turmoil. Her hair had begun to dry in silken curls around her face and shoulders. When the winds made locks dance over his skin, he could perceive each tendril.
Enchantress . . .
He felt like he was watching some kind of mystery being played out, something he’d known occurred—without any idea of the inner workings.
Hands shaking, he grasped her head, barely checking the urge to guide her down to his aching member.
Yet then she descended to . . . his thigh? He jerked in surprise when she pressed more loving kisses along the length of that scar.
As in the dream she’d described, he wanted more. He’d never thought she could convey affection with this act.
She kissed his damaged ankle and calf, sources of grueling pain for him. In the beginning, he’d wanted her to suffer guilt, to regret.
No longer.
There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. “Melanthe . . .” But he fell silent when she moved to his erection, taking hold of him.
His shaft pulsated in her soft grip. Moisture glistened across the crown. Would she mind that? When she was about to kiss him there? To his way of thinking, it seemed almost impolite to her. He was shocked at how little dominion he had over his body. He was literally in her hands—
She daubed the hot bead with her tongue.
A dumbfounded breath escaped him. With a shudder, he gave her another drop.
Her lips curled, as if he’d pleased her. Not impolite? Erotic. She liked it. She used that bead to thumb the head in mind-numbing circles. “Does this make you feel good?”
“Lanthe, you know it does.” She was teasing him? Now?
He stared down at the seductive curve of her red lips. He wished he could read her mind.
Because he feared he was about to lose his.
She rubbed him until his head swam, lust firing inside him. His claws dug deep into his palms when visions arose . . .
Of thrusting into her mouth. Of lifting her by her h*ps and planting her on his throbbing shaft.
Of tossing her to the ground so he could cover her, shoving deep within her tight, wet sheath.
Not visions. Impulses. Gods help them if he lost control.
Suddenly he felt her tongue—against his sensitive sac. “Unh!” His knees fell wide, allowing her free rein to do as she would.
She gave a light suck to one of his testicles, then the other, nearly ending everything! He didn’t breathe as she rose up over his shaft.
With her hand wrapped around the base, she guided the head toward her mouth to run the tip across her red lips. Then came her moist little tongue to circle the flared head. He couldn’t stop an astonished grunt.
Yet then he frowned to feel pain sear over his arm, as if the skin was burning. When he glanced at it, there was nothing, soon forgotten.
She tongued the crown, darting flicks to the underside, making him growl her name. He’d barely recovered from that new delight when she closed her lips over him—with sublime suction.
“Gods almighty.” His h*ps shot up. Her mouth slid even farther down. . . .
The only thing that could make this better would be if she was straddling his own tongue at the same time.
When she glanced up then, she caught him licking his lips for more of her taste. Her brows drew together. Moaning around him, she took his length even more aggressively. Deeper.
Finally a deep he craved.
As his restraint deteriorated, he cupped her face to give shallow thrusts between her lips. He lifted one wing, using a flare to cup her ass. When he rubbed those supple curves, she shivered.
His heavy testicles tightened as his body prepared to release. No way he could hold back. “Don’t stop, Melanthe! I need more of this.” More of her shimmering eyes, her teasing lips. “Close, sweet. So close.” His head tipped back, eyes sliding shut.
Wait. She’d stopped? He faced her again.
She’d taken away that hot wet suction! “Melanthe?!”
She leaned forward to kiss his navel, leaving him racked with need and confusion. Yet then he felt her plump br**sts pillowing each side of his erection. Desperate for the contact he’d lost, he rolled his hips. His shaft glided along her cle**age. “Good gods.”
Another rock of his hips, and he grew nigh once more. “I’ll release like this . . . between your perfect br**sts . . .”
She tilted her head, gauging his expression. Then, with a sensual grin, she dragged her chest down his body to return to her kiss, adding the stimulation of her hand.
With her fist pumping the base of his dampened shaft, she sucked him with greedy, spine-tingling pulls.
“Ahhh!” Nothing could feel this good. Nothing, nothing . . . “I’m about to come!”
As she sucked and pumped, she cupped his testicles with her free hand, giving them an electrifying squeeze that brought him right over the edge.
Pleasure erupted. He threw back his head and roared—a sound that could never be contained.
Against her clever tongue, his length pulsed again and again, his back bowing in time.
She wrung every last shudder from him, forcing him to ride that pleasure . . . over and over. . . . A culmination so heart-stopping, it was almost fearsome.
He gave her only a drop or two of seed, but she hungrily drew on him for more. As if she’d been waiting forever to take him into her.
When she’d rendered his body boneless and his mind boggled, she gave him a last sweet kiss, then curled up against his side. As they both caught their breath, she laid her hand upon his chest, drawing her thigh up over his.
Time passed. Disbelief and satisfaction waged war in his hazy thoughts.
Melanthe began lazily dragging the backs of her nails up and down his chest. Breezes drifted over them as he floated without pain, discovering what bliss was. I’m to experience this with her for the rest of my eternal life?
And he hadn’t even claimed her.
He was eager to, but resting with his mate like this was an ecstasy all its own. He wondered how long it took for a female’s desire to stir anew. He wondered how many times a day she would let him attend to her. After he claimed her, once he’d found that home, how could he ever force himself to leave it?
Were these now to be his concerns? At the thought, he grinned up to the sky. He drew her closer, pressing his smiling lips against her forehead.
When they’d been young, they’d fallen into a ready camaraderie. Being with her had proved effortless—their interplay filled with rapport and affinity, with ease.
Now, after sharing pleasure with her, he believed they could become that close again, that they could rekindle the connection they’d shared.
And more.
When a ray of light wavered through the palm trees, he lifted her raven locks to the sun, just to watch them shine. . . .
“Sometimes I feel so comfortable with you that I forget our pasts,” she said in a languorous voice. “Sometimes I feel as if nothing had separated us, and only yesterday we were gazing up at clouds together.”
“I was just thinking about our camaraderie. It’s still here between us.”
“Hmm. Something is,” she murmured.
As if an alarm had sounded, he picked up on the subtle change in her tone. When her hand started to dip, tension renewed within him.
Because Feveris wasn’t satisfied. He remained erect, and his mate’s h*ps began to move, rubbing the slick heat of her sex against him. Bliss.
“You’re hard as iron.”
“You make me thus.” He turned to her, cupping her face. “Are you ready for more? I can give it to you.”
Worry crossed her face, but she still nodded. “I have to feel you inside me.”
Even as his shaft strained demandingly, his chest twisted with emotion. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
She lay back in the flowers and reached for him, her hair like a cloud around her head, night-black curls against bloodred petals. He knew he’d never forget this sight for the rest of his immortal life.
“I can barely think past this fever for you.” Her eyes were luminous, telling him things he didn’t have the experience to recognize.
He sensed a vulnerability in her that he wouldn’t have expected.
As he knelt between her thighs, he said, “Worry not, Melanthe. I’ll be good to you. I’ll be true to you.”
“If we do this, we might be taking a step there’s no turning back from.”
“Tell me you want this.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I do.”
Then it will be done. He was to take his mate.
At the thought, his gaze was drawn to the smooth column of her neck. His fangs ached, as if to mark her.
Vrekener males didn’t bite their mates upon claiming. Defeating the compulsion, he fisted his erection, swiping his thumb over the head as he aimed it toward her tiny opening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Go slow at first.” With a smile in her tone, she said, “Be tender for as long as you can.”
He tilted his h*ps toward her. Just as dampness kissed his sensitive skin, she gave a moan, undulating, sending the crown slipping up and down her wet folds.
A growl rose up from his chest. He wanted her arousal all over him. On his tongue, on his fingers, covering his shaft.
He placed his hands on either side of her head, easing his h*ps forward. Uncontrollable urges tormented him, and he had to gnash his teeth to keep from plunging inside at once. He’d delved just an inch into her core when his entire body gave a shudder. “My gods!” Another inch. “Melanthe, I will want this every hour of the day. You are—”
“Sweet!” a female said from not ten feet behind them. “Hot interspecies action! And I didn’t even have to subscribe to this channel!”
THIRTY-SEVEN
For a brief second, Lanthe wondered if Thronos would ignore the interruption and keep going.
Gazing at the intense hunger on his face, she could tell he was debating it. . . .
But then protectiveness or propriety made him stop. With a surprisingly vile curse, Thronos pulled out. As he stood, he dragged Lanthe up as well, tucking her back against his front as his wings enfolded their bodies.
Lanthe narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired female who’d come upon them. It was none other than Nïx the Ever-Knowing. “Why are you in Feveris, Nïx?”
“Am I in Feveris? Are we?” Her voice was melodious, her amber eyes amused. She had a freaking bat perched on her shoulder. “What if we’re not?”
“I’ve been here before and know what it looks like.” Lanthe could hardly believe she’d just been caught beneath a Vrekener. Would Nïx tell Sabine? Stressing the words, Lanthe said, “Not to mention that we’ve been bespelled with unending desire.”
“Yet you two have no urge to do me?”
Lanthe muttered, “Maybe a little.” Nïx was a dish.
“Hey!” Thronos yanked Lanthe closer.
“Understandable.” Nïx twirled her long hair. “You two get dressed, and then we’ll talk.”
When the Valkyrie turned from them, Lanthe eased around within the circle of Thronos’s wings to face him. “We were bespelled.” They might not have been bespelled.
“Of course,” he said solemnly.
“We must have been.” Otherwise, Lanthe had so very nearly let Thronos Talos claim her—during her most fertile time. And she’d been about to shove her h*ps up to get him inside her faster!
If she got pregnant with a Vrekener’s baby . . . with his baby . . .
His expression was inscrutable. Was he angry at himself for their offendments? “Of course,” he repeated. “The Valkyrie must be mistaken.”
“Uh-huh.” Untruth.
He released Lanthe so they could find their clothes. She darted for her necklace right away.
The Valkyrie sauntered back to them as soon as Lanthe and Thronos were dressed. Nïx herself wore a T-shirt that read: I lost my heart on Immortal Island!
Recalling how Nïx had helped Thronos, Lanthe narrowed her eyes. “You told him how to capture me. Why would you betray me?”
“Did I?”
“I’ve been running from him for centuries.” Or she had been. Act like partners long enough . . .
“Have you?”
“Will you stop answering questions with questions?”
“Will I?”
“Ugh!” Lanthe wanted to strangle her!
“You both have roles to fulfill.”
“What roles?” Thronos grated.
Nïx waved her hand in an arc above her as she breathed, “Future ones!”
Wait . . . immortal island? “You were on the Order’s prison island, weren’t you?”
“Was I?” Nïx asked with a coy smile.
“You talked to me when I was unconscious!” Lanthe flashed a look of realization. “You hit me in the face with a log!”
“You dare accuse me of such a thing?!” Nïx snapped, her Valkyrie emotions producing lightning above. “Outrageous! I would never!” Then she abruptly frowned. “I might have hit you in the face with a log.”