The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,94
his sarcasm spilled into his words. Chamtivos and his lackeys had enjoyed doling out punishment when they couldn't convince him to divulge the secret to breaking Megiddo's enchantment. They could have beat him to death without ever solving that mystery because Serovek didn't know it. Only the Khaskem knew how to break the spell he'd wrought on the monk. Even if Serovek did know, he would have died under their fists silent with the knowledge and Megiddo's enchantment unbroken.
“Anhuset.” She raised her gaze then, alerted by something in his voice. “Our chances of surviving tomorrow are slim at best, even with our plans and preparations.”
She lowered his shirt, silent for a moment as if weighing her next words. She pivoted to stand in front of him, her features more defined with her much closer proximity. Her body heat warmed his front, and her eyes had darkened to the gold of coins in a king's counting house. Serovek's breathing turned labored, a labor having nothing to do with compromised lungs or injuries.
He resisted the temptation to close his eyes when she laid her hand gently against his cheek. “If the gods abandon us, I will be proud to die fighting at the side of Serovek Pangion, Margrave of High Salure and battle mate to Brishen Khaskem.”
His heart galloping faster than a spooked horse, Serovek bent his head, tossing aside any lingering resistance to this fierce, courageous woman. He didn't have to bend far. She was nearly his height and slipped her hand to his neck to pull his head down to her.
He'd often imagined what kissing Anhuset might be like. All the scenarios had been variations of a passionate tangle of limbs, a hard press of mouths together, the score of her claws across his shoulders. They would gasp together and struggle, and pant, and fight each other for supremacy while they yanked each other's clothes off in a frenzy of desire.
This kiss was none of those things. The first brush of her lips on his was no more than a zephyr's whisper, the second a soft, curious tug on his lower lip, the third a luxuriant suckling of his upper and lower lips. The fourth kiss was a slow, thorough, glorious mutual exploration of the way her bottom lip felt a little fuller than her top one. Her breath tickled the sensitive corners of his mouth while her hand kneaded his nape. Her claws on his skin were a tantalizing contrast to the softness of her fingertips.
Serovek groaned, not from pain but from the dizzying euphoria of finally experiencing the fruition of a dream that had consumed his slumber many a night. He slid his arms around her to draw her closer, uncaring that his body twinged hard at her weight against the painful contusions decorating his torso. She copied his actions, the hand at his nape sliding down to the middle of his back while her other hand cupped one buttock for an appreciative squeeze.
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, see that they were actually much like his, with sclera, irises, and pupils, all various shades of yellow that merged into the lamplight brightness so different from a human's. He grinned. “Had I known you liked my arse, I'd have invited you to squeeze it long before now.”
She surprised him further by bending to nibble his chin. The playful touch lit a fire in his body as powerful as if she stroked his cock. The touch was as brief as it was powerful. Anhuset's own smile was a faint lift of one corner of her mouth. She gave him another squeeze. “It's an exceptionally nice arse, margrave. I'll admit to admiring it more than a few times, but consider it a mercy as well as a compliment. It's one of the few spots on you that Chamtivos didn't pummel black and blue.”
“Don't let any of that stop you from touching wherever you please,” he said. He captured her lips once more, unable to resist their allure. She responded enthusiastically, her soft moan in harmony with his as she learned the shape of his lips and he learned hers.
No longer satisfied with the closed-mouth caresses they exchanged, he coaxed her mouth open with a gradual seduction. She stilled in his arms, arching deeper into his embrace, the stillness one of curiosity, of anticipation for what he might do next.
The glide of his tongue along the slick inner skin of her lower lip made her shiver, but she