“You told me you had sensual dreams about me when you slept.” He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, sorceress, was I scarred in those dreams?”
He was reaching for his anger because it was familiar to him. Hating me is what he knows best.
She’d chip away at that as well. “Yes, you were scarred. And I was kissing every one of them from top to bottom. You were so sensitive, but you craved more, your big body shuddering.”
He frowned at her. “You’re not . . . you’re not lying.”
“No.”
In a gruff tone, he said, “I would’ve thought a fickle Sorceri would find the marks distasteful.”
“Thronos, we have problems between us—gods, I know that—but lack of physical attraction is not one of them.” A regrettable truth.
The hope in his eyes almost made Lanthe lose her nerve with her plan.
“You must have noticed our crackling sexual chemistry?” she asked.
“I thought that was just the way one felt around a mate,” he admitted. “Yet you feel it for me as well.” His brows drew together. “So why did you tell me I left you cold?”
“I said I felt physical attraction. But I find it difficult to desire a male who insults and hurts me.”
Instead of addressing this, he said, “How many have you felt this chemistry with?”
And here we go.
“How many males have there been, Melanthe?” he asked in a quiet voice, as if he were bracing for her answer.
“You’ll never get a number out of me.”
“Then it must be huge.”
“I’m more than just a number,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s not only the number that’s bothering you; it’s the fact that I was with others after we’d met, and you couldn’t bed just as many.” Bite your tongue!
“Why couldn’t you have settled down with one? I know that some Sorceri wed for life.”
“Would you have preferred to find me in love with another male, happy, with ten children? Why, that would make me a virtuous woman! Would you kidnap a virtuous female for your own selfish needs? Would you separate her from her beloved husband and children?”
He bit out a sound of frustration.
“If our sexes were reversed, everyone would’ve expected me to take lovers. I would have been applauded for it. You would have been revered for your purity. And if I were a demon male like you, I would have bedded thousands, searching for my mate. You know”—she made air quotes—“attempting.”
That’s what demons called it when they had sex just to see if a female would break their demon seal. Though a demon could usually scent a female and know she was his mate, the only way to be a hundred percent sure was through intercourse.
Baring his fangs, Thronos grated, “Have you been attempted by many demons, then?”
“I’ve never been with one.” He parted his lips, no doubt to call “untruth,” so she explained, “Like Vrekeners, the Sorceri stupidly think demons are savage. I didn’t know better until Sabine fell for Rydstrom. By the time I realized demons could be wildly attractive, I was locked into celibacy for a year.”
“You find demons wildly attractive? I thought you were drawn to the more polished, slick liar sort.”
Right now she was drawn to seven-foot-tall males who simmered with pent-up lust and untapped carnality. “Hmm. Physically, I like—”
“Straddle me,” he bit out.
Her brows shot up.
“I’m about to need my hands.”
Without question, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck yet again. He’d just latched onto the side of the mountain when the path disintegrated beneath them, rousing the dragons once more.