His mien darkened, growing more piscine. She heard doors shutting and locking to prevent her escape.
Even after the nymphs had stripped Thronos na**d, he gave one last struggle, so they deepened their spells to knock him out completely.
One nymph told another, “He’ll wake in my mouth.”
Then it was as good as done. No male alive could wake to a nymph blow-job and deny the female.
Crying, sick, Lanthe turned her back on the scene. I should’ve locked Thronos down. I should’ve fought for him when I had the chance.
Now she would have to face his murderous wrath when she tried to steal him back from the nymphs.
If she somehow could, would Thronos even want her after she bedded Nereus?
“My dear sorceress, if it’s any consolation”—Nereus patted the “bed” by his side—“he resisted them longer than any other male I’ve seen.”
She was too heartbroken to react much to her own predicament. The overly endowed god wasn’t known to be a gentle lover.
She wanted to blame Thronos for her situation, but of course she couldn’t. She was responsible for her fate. If she’d given him any sign . . .
With leaden feet, she crossed to Nereus—
A bellow sounded.
She whirled toward the waterfall screen, saw Thronos shoving away Nereids, sending them flying across the room. “Where’s my mate?” he yelled, wings flaring, his na**d body magnificent. “Begone from me, you foul witches!”
She smiled through new tears, cheering him as he yanked his pants on. Snatching up his clothes, he stormed away—from a carnal paradise.
For me.
She beamed with pride. By denying those nymphs, he’d gone against his instincts—and his ego.
Nereus released a stunned breath. “Amazing. Go to your Vrekener with my blessing.” In the distance, doors began to clang, unlocking for her. “I’m sure you can sense the location of Sargasoe’s portal.” Giving her a salacious grin, he added, “But you have no idea what you’re missing.”
“Uh, thank you. We’ll be off.”
“And by the way”—out of thin air, he produced a lock of shining black hair, scenting it—“tell Nïx that she asks much. Quelling a tsunami is no mean task.”
Whatever. “Will do, Nereus, will do,” she assured him, sprinting for the door.
FORTY-FOUR
What did I do with them?
Thronos recalled little of what had happened in that room, just knew he’d woken with no clothes on and na**d Nereids kissing his body—while more had been layered beneath him.
“Melanthe!” he bellowed as he strode down the corridor, hastily dressing as he went.
Those nymphs had whispered that there was no matehood in Nereus’s realm. Thronos would be free to partake—as he’d wanted to for ages.
But that had been before.
I was unfaithful.
He’d gotten drunk on demon brew, then betrayed his lovely, brave, intelligent mate. All of his laws, all of his righteousness, all of the grief he’d given her about her behavior—and he was the one who fell.
How could he tell her?
If he’d been seduced by nymphs, then what in the hell was happening to her? Was Nereus ravishing her? If the god touches her . . . “Melanthe!” His fear for her, his blind panic, burned away much of his inebriation. “Answer me!”