Dragging his gaze from her, Thronos surveyed their surroundings. Though he’d scented water nearby, he still hadn’t found the source, and it was growing darker. Dusk was abnormally long here—and as the sun had begun its lazy descent, the dragons had retreated from the field, their enormous shadows wavering over the treetops.
He and Melanthe had decided to return to the demon valley tonight, but they remained without water. And he hadn’t recuperated whatsoever.
Plus, he had plans for them. . . .
When a breeze blew, rustling all the flowers, she set down her finished fruit. “It’s beautiful here.”
Her black, black hair matched the petals of those flowers. Gaze still on her, he muttered, “Yes. Beautiful.”
Since Melanthe had described what copulation between them would be like, he’d found it difficult to look at anything except her. When he took her home to his Bed of Troth, would he not want to hear her keen with ecstasy? Would Thronos not want to empty his lungs as he emptied his seed inside her?
He’d been vacillating over his decision to claim her tonight—up until the time she’d said those blood-heating words to him. After that, he knew nothing could stop him. All he needed was a secure place to commence his plans.
But how to get her na**d and in his arms? His skin flushed when he realized that would mean he too would have to be unclothed.
Naked. In front of her.
He’d figure it out.
Finding another pitha, he used his claw to stab a hole in the bottom to drink from. Its juice was sugary, but welcome. He handed her another pierced gourd to drink.
When some juice ran down her chin, she grinned mischievously—as she used to do when a girl.
That grin affected him differently, yet just as strongly. He wanted the kiss he’d almost taken.
Whatever she saw in his expression made her murmur, “Thronos?”
Before he could stop himself, he took her face in both of his hands, leaning in closer to her.
“Whoa, tiger!” She pushed against him. “You promised me water. Even I can smell some nearby.”
He surprised himself by letting her go. As he bit back his disappointment, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
A bubble filled with water was floating through the air between them. He and Melanthe silently watched it bobbing along. Without a word, they both hastened in the direction it’d come from.
He lunged in front of her. “I lead the way.” He pushed past some brush into a clearing, bordered by moonraker trees. The massive roots encircled the area like walls, while tightly woven branches made a ceiling above them. Countless water-filled bubbles floated up like helium balloons, bursting against the impenetrable canopy.
Drops fell over this glade like a cool summer rain, then rose up to coalesce again.
Not a peek of sky could be seen, making this literal rain forest feel like a pocket of muted light and sound.
With his and Melanthe’s every step, more drops pattered up from a mat of silver grass. Bubbles were even released by flowers fringing the tree roots.
“This is wild!” Melanthe cried. “Like a fairy ring, or an enchanted glade. Let’s name this place . . . Zero-G Glade!” She popped a bubble into her cupped hand to drink.
“Let me test the water first.” When she offered her hand, he leaned down to scent and taste it. “Clean.”
After they’d both had their fill, he pierced a large bubble over his head. Water poured as if a bucket had been tipped over him, a cool splash over his ash-covered skin. He tossed his sopping shirt onto a root, then scrubbed at his face and hair, his chest and arms.
Another bubble burst over Melanthe’s shoulder, making her shiver. Thronos watched, riveted, as each drop slowly trailed down her body—only to be sucked back up to fuse again.
When she let loose a peal of laughter, he asked, “What?”
“It tickles!”
Earlier, she’d laughed in the temple. Then he’d made her laugh on their march. The only thing that could make that sensual sound better? Being the cause of it.
His brows drew together when he realized she’d already laughed more today than he and all his grim knights had in centuries.