The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,163

he reached his. Her moans and the grip of her thighs coaxed him to join her, and he uttered her name in prayer as his eyes rolled back and he came hard inside her.

The tent was indeed narrow and half collapsed on one side thanks to their exertions, but neither cared. While Serovek had claimed his place atop Anhuset, they ended up on their sides facing each other, legs and arms entwined, skin to skin, breasts to chest. He kept an arm around her hips, holding her close to stay inside her. Her lamplight eyes burned softly, and Serovek wiped away a streak of sand granules from her cheek with his thumb.

“How are you, wife?” he said, savoring the term.

Her features gentled even more, and the corners of her mouth curved upward. “Slippery.”

He chuckled, then stopped when he felt himself sliding out of her. He gripped her hips even tighter, not ready to leave that sweet place just yet.

Anhuset encircled his wrist in her hand and raised his arm. Her claw traced the dirty ribbon still wrapped there. “I thought this went into a monastery midden. Why did you keep it?”

Serovek could list a hundred reasons for why he kept it, but he gave her only the most important one. “Because it was proof your feelings for me had changed. There is no finer gift in all the world than the love of sha-Anhuset.”

She gave a tiny, inadvertent flinch. “I'm no longer a sha.”

He'd wondered what she sacrificed in order to offer her marriage proposal. She'd give up much to remain his wife. Regret filled him at the thought of her losing her position as Brishen's second. She was born to it, and he'd seen firsthand how she defined herself by it. As much as he wanted her, it wasn't under circumstances like these.

“You risked your life for me,” he said. “I'm losing count of the number of times now. I don't want you for my wife just to keep High Salure. It's just stones and mortar. Forfeiting it wouldn't be the end of the world. I want this marriage because I've loved you since I first set eyes on you in Saggara, so grim and beautiful.” He stroked a lock of her hair where it draped on her bare shoulder. “But I won't rob you of those things that mean most to you. We can live separately if you wish. The king's restrictions don't demand we occupy the same household together.”

His mind raced. They could visit each other every week or even twice a month. Brishen still wouldn't allow her to remain a sha for reasons that were strictly political and diplomatic. Serovek understood that, as did Anhuset he was sure. But she didn't have to leave behind her people and her home just to remain his wife. They could make it work; it would just take some planning.

Anhuset sighed, and the small smile she'd worn before their conversation turned more serious returned. She stroked his back, tickling the dip of his spine with a fingertip. “Oh, I don't know. Margravina has a more stately ring to it than sha, don't you think?” She continued mapping a path down his back to his buttock before giving it an appreciative squeeze. “And High Salure has comfortable beds with soft blankets and warm hearth fires. Your furnishings are quite princely too.”

The clamp around his heart eased a little, one he'd refused to recognize as he made the offer to send her home to Saggara while he returned to High Salure, married but still without a wife. “You didn't mention the food,” he teased.

She gave a disdainful sniff. “We can debate that unpleasantness later.”

He kissed her and she him, their mutual caresses becoming more urgent, more passionate. Serovek pulled back to stare into her eyes with their swirling citrine shades. “None of that matters. There is no bed I want to be in more than the one I'm in now with you, and we're far away from High Salure.”

Anhuset swatted him on the buttock she'd cupped a moment before. “You have to be the chattiest individual I know,” she said. “Do you want me as your wife in every way?”

An easy question to answer. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to live with you at High Salure?”

“Yes.”

Her voice became a loving touch that stroked his soul. “Do you love me even half as much as I love you?”

He pretended to consider. “Well...you did fight a giant scarpatine for me.” He yelped when her claws