Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(87)

Aly and Bri were little badasses. Everyone had been worried about the Pravus making attempts on their lives—as the vessel of this Accession, Holly had certainly been besieged by them—but there’d been no cause for alarm.

Lanthe’s nieces were super brilliant, could already trace. If they sensed danger—or bath time—they would simply teleport their diapered butts away.

When hungry, they traced right to their mother’s breast, which still freaked out the rather staid Holly. Cadeon thought it was uproarious, would croon praise to them. The twins and the boobs.

Rydstrom’s ne’er-do-well mercenary brother had finally done well, abandoning his soldier-of-fortune past to build a life and start a family with his mate. Like Rydstrom and Sabine, Cadeon and Holly were as opposite as they could be.

Maybe the differences kept things interesting. Lanthe’s gaze was helplessly drawn to Thronos.

But none of their factions were at war. None of their siblings would want to murder significant others.

She felt . . . despairing over the future. Because she couldn’t have Thronos? She wished she didn’t know how warm his chest was when he held her close—or what it would be like to make love to him.

Lanthe was a sorceress who wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. . . .

Not to be.

Despair promptly turned to resentment. Thronos had done this to her.

Made her wonder. Made her imagine more.

After several minutes of silence, he said, “I can’t stop thinking about Feveris.”

She yanked her hand from his. “Try!” When another gust hit them, she glared at her surroundings and kicked a stone. “This whole ordeal is like motherf*cking Time Bandits, and I’m over it!”

“Don’t know who those bandits are, Lanthe.”

“Of course you don’t.” Because he’d never watched a movie in his eternal life.

They had nothing in common, except for some shared childhood experiences and recent hallucinatory orgasms.



Extremes.

Thronos now knew what it would be like to lose Melanthe forever, powerless to save her, forced to watch her die.

But he’d also glimpsed what it would be like to claim her as his woman. Neither experience had actually happened, which made him question if he were truly here with her even now. And she wondered why he kept touching her?

In their last two realms, he and Melanthe had been tested together—making him feel closer to her. Yet she was drawing away.

The situation wasn’t helping. Her skin was wounded. She must be freezing from regeneration, and still half shocked over where they’d been.

She was probably starving as well. He had no idea when they’d last eaten. How many days or weeks were we within that beast? Already, he’d suspected Pandemonian time moved differently. He could only guess how long he and Melanthe had been missing.

He helped her over a gulley, his thoughts ricocheting among four things: concern for her immediate safety, reliving her death in those harrowing loops, recalling his pride as she’d manipulated those demons to save him—and relishing how she’d responded to him in their dream of Feveris.

For the latter, he lowered his mental shield, letting her hear his musings loud and clear.

He replayed her wet heat kissing the head of his shaft . . . the pressure of her sex beginning to squeeze the crown as he inched inside . . . her pulse racing because she’d needed him too . . .

“It wasn’t real!” she insisted.

“It feels bloody real!” No one got his wings up like she did! “Damn it, I know your taste. I know your moans. Why are you so eager to deny what we felt?”

It was as if she considered herself weak because she’d surrendered to it. And all I feel is strong.

“Because it never happened!” Brows raised in challenge, she said, “If that hallucination truly took place, then shouldn’t N?x’s lock of hair be in my pocket?” She dug into the waterlogged leather strip, one of the last remaining.

She pulled out a lock of Valkyrie hair.

He gaped. Could Feveris have been real?

Melanthe pinched her brow with confusion. “No, no. N?x must’ve planted this on me when she attacked me on the island. She could’ve slipped this in when I was unconscious. Or maybe she was in the beast herself?” Melanthe shoved it back in her pocket. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like I made you scream with pleasure?” He closed in on her. “Face it, sorceress, I nearly claimed you as mine—and you loved it.” They were toe to toe. “You wanted me inside you. You wanted more. Nothing can ever take that away.”

“That would’ve been disastrous!” She looked half enraged, half wary.

He reached forward to brush his thumb over her bottom lip. “I want to get us back to where we were before we got interrupted.”

“A male wanting sex from me.” She jerked away from him. “How novel.”

“You know I want more than just sex.” He grabbed her upper arm, drawing her close once more. “I want everything from you.”

Her lips parted, but then she seemed to collect herself. “Just because Sorceri don’t dwell on regrets doesn’t mean we set ourselves up for them either. What you want to happen between us just . . . can’t. We’re too different. Our families and factions would never accept this.”