When Nereus turned his full attention to her, she felt like footlights had just lit up. “Do you like your Sorceri wine? The vintner assures me it’s sweet enough to please a sorceress’s tongue.”
Lanthe took a sip. “Scrumptious! It’s not often that I get to enjoy it away from home.”
“How did you come to be upon Sargasoe’s coast?”
“Oh, it’s such a long and boring tale.”
—Boring? The hell it was.—
—Pipe down. I need to concentrate here.—
—Then go on, weave your spell. I could almost pity the sea god.—
She laid her hand over Nereus’s. “Instead, let’s talk about you. It’s not every day I get to meet a divinity.”
“What would you like to know, sorceress? Am I attracted to your charms? Absolutely. Next question.”
She grinned at Nereus, even as she sensed Thronos turning away, refusing to watch their interaction. “What enemy dared to descend on Sargasoe?”
“A vampire,” Nereus answered. “You might know him—Lothaire the Enemy of Old. I’d been indebted to him, but no longer!”
“I suspect half of the Lore is in his infamous book of debts.” Unfortunately Rydstrom was; he and Sabine had been hunting the diabolical vamp over the last year, figuring a dead leech couldn’t collect. As of a few days ago, Lothaire had been an Order prisoner, obviously escaped now.
In the past, Lanthe had considered the Enemy of Old to be one of the sexiest males in the Lore. But now . . .
Her gaze slid over to Thronos. He didn’t even act like he was with her, just sipped from his goblet, glowering at his surroundings. —Easy with the booze, tiger.—
—Just get this over with.—
She turned back to Nereus, inwardly frowning as a thought occurred. The god had said his foe Lothaire had come last month. Between Pandemonia and the belly, how much time had she and Thronos lost? Sabine must be out of her head with worry!
Nereus observed, “I wouldn’t have expected to see a sorceress and a Vrekener as traveling companions.”
“Cheap airfare,” she said with a wink.
He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. A nice smile. Fangs would make it better. “Yes, but I sense that you are a hedonist like myself. And the Vrekener is not.”
“Interestingly, he and I share a fated connection.”
—You. Are. Mine.—
—Thronos, come on!— She reached for her wine again.
Nereus waved her statement away. “I detect a great many things about you. You’re a sensual connoisseur, are you not?”
She paused over the rim of her goblet.
“From one hedonist to another,” he continued, “I find it refreshing when women know their way around the bedroom. A humanoid female who happens to be a connoisseur of males is a most coveted creature in nautical realms.”
“Not so much in other realms.”
In a bemused tone, Nereus asked, “Why is sex the only endeavor where a male hopes his partner is a rank novice?”
Lanthe couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. “Why indeed?”
Nereus gazed at her smiling lips for long moments, then leaned in with a get-down-to-business look. “You want to get to know me, but I want us to get to know each other.” He might as well have cracked his knuckles. “So tell me, what is the favorite pastime of a sorceress like yourself?”
“Drinking wine and watching TV.” She illustrated the first with a deep draw from her glass.