When he returned to the bedroom, he had a towel wrapped around his h*ps and the case at the ready.
His heart stuttered a beat. She was kneeling at the end of the bed, running the pads of her fingers over the footboard. She wore her long shining hair loose, and she’d donned one of his shirts, rolling the sleeves up to her wrists. The sight of her clad in something that belonged to him affected him in inexplicable ways, made him want to squeeze her in his wings, to rub his horns all over her trembling body.
Mine, all mine.
Melanthe in his bed, awaiting him. She was too beautiful.
He watched her gaze leisurely take in his face, his chest, lower. . . . She parted her lips on a sigh, and her little tongue wetted them. Gods almighty.
Her eyes glittered with appreciation—for him.
She mightn’t even be real. Feveris hadn’t been, nor those time loops.
Soon he’d wake from slumber, aching for her, greeted by his customary pain—always more excruciating in the morning. He would clench his fists, renewing his determination, resuming his search. . . .
With a grin, she waved at his blatant erection behind the towel. “Are you doing your Nereus impression?”
A laugh escaped him before he even realized it. “You really are here.” Her mischievous smile got him tied up in knots, always had. “I never thought I’d see you in this bed.”
“That makes two of us.” She had removed her prized necklace, setting it on his nightstand. On their nightstand. “By the way, the hot water’s broken.”
“Oh?” Probably not a good time to tell her that there was never any hot water for showers.
“So what’s in the case?”
He sat beside her, opening it to reveal the claiming sheet sewn for him ages ago. The material carried the pleasant scent of preserving herbs.
She unfolded it with a frown. “This is what you had to retrieve? It won’t be big enough for your bed.”
“We’re expected to keep that sheet between us. It’s tradition.”
“How is that going to work . . . ?” She trailed off when she found the stitched opening in the middle of the material. “Well, how kinky. But isn’t this supposed to be rubber?” She poked her forefinger through the gap, waggling her eyebrows at him.
He blinked at her. “Why would it be rubber?”
She sighed. “So many things I’ll have to teach you. I’m all for tradition, but do you really want something between us?”
He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “Somehow we managed to get to this bed before sleeping together. I want to do this right. A proper marriage.”
“This claiming business is important to you, huh?”
“It is.” His forehead rested against hers. “But, Melanthe, you must be certain of this. We haven’t been together for long. And while I can’t have others—obviously wouldn’t even if I could—you could find someone else.” He began stroking one of her supple thighs. “If we take this step, you’ll have to pick me over all the men you’ll meet in your eternal life. Because I won’t ever let you go.” As if I would now . . .
She laid her silken hands on his face. “I picked you over all others when I walked through that portal with you. I want to be your wife.”
His heart felt too big for his chest. “My wife.” He dipped down, rubbing the base of one horn up and down her neck. Mine. She had to know he was marking her with his scent.
When she tilted her head away to give him more access, to let him do as his instinct commanded, he wanted to kiss her until her little toes curled.
“Just one last consideration,” she murmured absently. “I’m probably not even in season anymore, right? We could’ve been in the belly of the beast for weeks.”
He raised his head. “Though I’d wanted to impregnate you so you’d feel bound to me, I can’t lie. I scent you’re in season. It’s waned, but still there.”
“Then our already slim odds waned too.” She pressed her lips to his neck, then his jawline, then to the corner of his mouth. “You amaze me, Thronos. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to your honesty.”
“You’re going to have to. Because I’m about to marry you.” Season or not, she still wanted this. He turned to slant his mouth over hers.
Lanthe’s lips parted, welcoming his tongue as it slipped toward hers. She loved how leisurely he took their kisses, working the slow build—despite the tension in his massive body.