Lanthe gave him a bless your heart look.
He bit out a harsh laugh. “So the evidence continues to mount? And Nïx wants to know if it matters that we might be demons.”
“How much have you had, Thronos?”
“Three or so goblets.”
“Three? You’re going to be tanked.” Though she’d only had a little more than a goblet of wine, she would taper off, just in case.
He gazed at her mouth, his lids heavier. “My impending drunkenness should please you, no?”
“You’ve misunderstood me. I don’t care if you drink or not; I just don’t want you to tell me not to. But tonight, I’ll take it easy, so one of us is on guard.”
A Nereid squeezed between them to fill his goblet. The female all but pressed her voluptuous br**sts in his face, before traipsing off.
Even though he was buzzed, he kept his mind blocked.
As her glare followed the Nereid, Lanthe told him, “If she shoved her br**sts any closer to your ear, I believe you could’ve heard the ocean.”
“Compared to the belly of the beast, this situation is a vast improvement,” he said nonchalantly.
She turned her glare on him. “Because the belly of the beast lacked topless nymphs? Talk to management.”
“You’re jealous.” He leaned in closer, the electricity between them sparking. “I knew I was growing on you.” With a crooked grin, he said, “After all, you loved hallucinated sex acts with me.”
Had she ever! She sipped her wine to cover her reaction to him.
When she licked her lip, Thronos muttered, “Lucky lip.”
Lanthe’s fine line had just gotten finer. The brew would hit Thronos soon. “You need to eat something.” She pointed to his platter of lobster. “A full stomach might forestall some of the effects.”
He had to be starving, but he was clearly at a loss. “Crustaceans are not something I’ve much experience with. What I wouldn’t give for a nice haunch of venison.” He looked around as if to see how others were handling their lobsters. The mercreatures ate the entire thing, including the shell, probably throwing up that part later. He turned back to her. “I’ve got nothing.”
With a look of commiseration, she started on the salad of seaweed, sea lettuce, and kelp. She found it surprisingly tasty.
Once Nereus returned, Thronos turned surly straightaway.
The god noticed. “You show no interest in my lovely nymphs?”
“Melanthe is my mate,” Thronos said with unmistakable pride. “I have interest in only one female.”
Nereus’s gaze was shrewd. “Ah, but does the interest run both ways? Well, sorceress? Are you as besotted with the Vrekener as he is with you?”
I might be falling for him.
But the next step in their relationship was her accompanying him to Skye Hall, an all-in scenario. Going with him to heaven would be the craziest thing she’d ever done. Yet as she peered over at him, she realized that wasn’t true.
Letting this one go might be.
How proud Thronos had sounded when he’d said, “Melanthe is my mate,” declaring interest only in her. For years, she’d imagined what it would be like having a male to prize her and hold her hand in public. To take her to court events.
Instead of into the shadows for whispered assignations.
Thronos would never wince at his watch, claiming, “Got a really early morning tomorrow, sweet.” He would never, ever blaze.
The situation with him—with their families and factions—was anything but ideal. Yet Thronos, the man, was getting there.
“We’re taking it day by day,” she finally told the god, earning a black look from Thronos. “So, let’s get back to you.” Resting her chin on her hand, she gazed at Nereus with—seemingly—utter absorption. “Won’t you tell me about the Marianas Trench siege? That was supposed to have been a doozy!”