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.