Where was her hostility? He could handle himself when she was a typical hateful sorceress, but this was throwing him. “If you see it, you’ll desire it. Then what? It’s not as if we can take it with us.”
“It would be enough just to touch it, to answer its call.”
Like touching a talisman.
“What can I say to convince you? Thronos, you can’t understand what the element is to me.”
He spoke before he considered his words: “It’s life to you.”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yes! Gold is life. It’s as beautiful as love, as divine as laughter.” She took his hand, raising it. When she made him trail the backs of his fingers over the soft skin above her breastplate, he just stifled a growl.
“Gold is this”—she pressed his palm flat over her chest—“next”—he dipped a thumb into her cl**vage—“heartbeat.”
Her heart was racing; his must have stopped. Don’t squeeze her plump flesh, don’t squeeze. . . .
She laid her own hands on his thighs, shifting her weight to her straightened arms, which pushed his thumb deeper between her creamy br**sts. “You want to show me your gold. You want my fingers wrapped around your gold, stroking it.”
Trying to command him? With a scowl, he dragged his hand away. “Your power isn’t working.”
“I wasn’t persuading you.” She inched her hands higher, nearly to his groin. “I was seeing if I could get you to substitute a certain noun for the word gold.” She pressed her thumbs in, indicating what she meant.
You want to show me your shaft. You want my fingers wrapped around your shaft, stroking it. When she gazed down at his erection, he almost rocked his hips. Yes, he did want to show it to her. So she could touch him, suck him. . . .
He hissed in a breath between his teeth. How much more of this could he be expected to resist? He needed to get space between them. “I have conditions before I agree.”
“Name them.”
“Tell me something that will ease my wrath a degree.”
“Very well.” She gazed up at the ceiling for a moment before facing him again. “I had sensual dreams about you earlier.”
If true, this was at once encouraging and infuriating to him. “Once? I’ve had them of you every time I’ve slept!”
“I didn’t say it was the first time we’ve been wicked together. In my dreams.”
His lips parted. What wicked things did she dream of him doing to her?
“Clearly that eased your wrath a jot. Now, what’s your next condition?”
“If I’m to show you my treasures—you’re to show me yours,” he said, shocked by his own words. He’d planned to get answers out of her; all of a sudden, he’d begun angling to see her unclothed!
Nudity in his culture was taboo. Even husbands and wives were expected to be clothed around each other at all times. When he took Melanthe in a Bed of Troth, there’d be a claiming sheet between them.
“You want me to strip for you?” she asked in a demure tone.
He’d started down this road. . . . Voice gone hoarse, he said, “Yes, if you enter that temple, you’ll bare yourself inside it.”
“Okay!” In a blur, she’d risen and was already at the door.
She’d acquiesced? Despite her Sorceri blood, he’d thought she would put up at least a show of resistance, and that they would negotiate: perhaps she’d only agree to revealing her br**sts, et cetera.
Instead, the shameless sorceress had agreed to all. He felt like he was in a battle that had just gone sideways, like he should be jerking his head back and forth to understand his new position.
As he rose to join her, he wondered, What else will she agree to? And his mouth went dry.
She smiled up at him, her lips curling proudly. She was aware of her power over males, had lorded it over so many. She took his arm between both of hers, standing unaccountably close to him.
So the temptress was using her wiles on him? The thought should fill him with anger. Not excitement.