Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(48)

His shaft ached for her, his horns as well. Part of him wondered, Why fight something I need so badly? His mate was in need too. Her season was upon her, and he had a driving instinct to pleasure her.

A groan drew her attention back to the pair. He kept his eyes on her.

—They’re so in love.— Yearning emanated from her.

She’d said gold was “as beautiful as love.” Did she want love for herself?

His mate was such a contradiction. She was hardened to violence and death. But he’d also seen her joy in the temple and now her longing.

As a girl, she’d been thoughtful and gentle. Her eyes had usually been lit with merriment, especially when she’d teased him, making him laugh despite himself. Each day, he’d gone from the dour Skye to that meadow, to levity and play. They’d settled in so easily together.

Merry, gentle, thoughtful. Could she possibly have retained those traits after all she’d been through?

Before he considered his words, he asked: —Have you been in love?—

—I’ve never known romantic love.—

This surprised him. With not a single one of the males she’d been with? —Why?—

With a raised brow, she replied: —I haven’t found my future husband yet.—

—You do not know how wrong you are about that.—

—Hmm.—

What kind of answer was that? Vexing female!

The two below began making unrestrained sounds of passion. This too struck him as odd since Vrekeners were . . . discreet when mating.

As Melanthe watched, her lids grew heavier. What was affecting her like this? Cursing his weakness, he stole a glance.

The demoness had her legs and arms wrapped around the Volar, while he kneaded her ass beneath her long skirts. This was the same position Thronos and Melanthe had repeatedly taken! Was she imagining Thronos cupping and kneading her?

The Volar took his female’s lips with a deep kiss, then eased them to the ground so that she was astride him. As Lanthe had been astride me, her sleek thighs flexing around my waist. The Volar fumbled with something beneath the demoness’s skirt, then with his own breeches. Lifting the female up, he slowly lowered her, growling with pleasure.

At that, Melanthe inched forward even more, placing her hand flat on the bench of rock. It was small-boned and pale. Not the one that bore scars.

He moved his own hand closer. —Tell me how many you’ve done this with.— Ever since she’d refused to say a number earlier, his imagination had gone wild.

—This? They’re making love, so my answer is never.— Before he could argue, she said: —There’s a difference between sex and making love.—

He’d heard this said, of course. But he had experience with neither. Though he was desperately curious as to what she considered the difference to be, he didn’t want to highlight his own ignorance of such matters.

When the Volar spoke, Melanthe translated again. —He said he’s been thinking about her all night, wanting only to return to her.— With a grin, she added: —He said he’ll be tender with her for as long as he can.—

And then what? Thronos refused to ask her, just said: —Females like tender.— Not an embarrassing question; merely an observation.

—Hmm. Sometimes.—

Enigmatic sorceress!

She arched her brows at him. —I would let my partner know exactly what I desired every step of the way. He’d never have to worry on that score.—

Did she mean him or males in general? One of the reasons he hated her past was that he had no experience of his own. If she compared him to other lovers, how could he acquit himself well?

Yet if she told him exactly what she wanted . . . —When you tell me what you desire, I’ll give it to you. Anything.—

Had she inched her hand closer to his? —What about offendments? Some of the acts I might crave have nothing to do with procreation.—

With comments like this, she set his mind afire! —I will hear of these acts now.—

She slid him a mysterious smile that put him into a lather as much as her words had.



Since Thronos had captured her, Lanthe had seen entirely new facets of him—and each one confused her more.

The warlord in pain, roaring in a lightning storm.

The domineering demon in the temple.

The protector who’d saved her from dragons.

Now she could sense the conflict within him. His sexual curiosity and long-denied urges goaded him to learn about her own desires—and to watch others’, though he believed it forbidden.

How shocking these sights must be to him! —I think my angel’s a budding voyeur.—

—You lead me down a dark path, sorceress.— Thronos looked astounded that he was actually watching, but helplessly intrigued.

—You’ve really never seen others in the throes?— Their hands on the bench were inching closer together.

—Never. I’ve turned away every time.— His little finger brushed hers, and even that small contact shot currents into her skin.

—Then why look now?—

—Because I see myself as him and you as her. Because I ache for what I almost took in that temple.—

The demoness moaned loudly. The Volar’s claws dug into the rocky ground.

Lanthe swallowed. —What had you planned to do to me?—