Dark Skye (22 page)

—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?—

—For the first time in my adult life, there was no plan, only impulses.—
Thronos’s hand suddenly covered hers. His was hot, rough with callouses.

She glanced up at him. Thick dark hair tumbled over his forehead, almost reaching his vivid eyes. Their color was the same as the ore that had spilled from the mountain.

Molten silver lit by fire.

His shirt clung to his broad shoulders and brawny chest. His normally clenched jaw was relaxed, the grim line of his lips softened, allowing her a glimpse of his true mien: masculine, compelling, sigh-worthy.

Her heart thudded. Irresistible warlord.

His face was flushed with excitement, as if he’d just discovered flirting.

Oh, wait. He probably
had.

—What would you have allowed me in the temple, Melanthe?—

She felt like she was punch-drunk, losing any inhibitions she might have had with this male. By the way he stared at her eyes, she knew they were metallic, colored with her desire. —
I honestly don’t know.—

He scowled when she pulled her hand away.

—
If I based my decision on physical attraction alone, then . . . —
She turned her hand palm up and parted her fingers for his.

A breath left him. His hand shot to hers, fingers entwining.

They fit . . . perfectly.

—You would have received me? Parted your thighs for me?—
He pressed the heel of his palm into hers, tightening his grip so sensually.

She bit her bottom lip. —
It’s not based just on physical attraction, is it?—
How could the mere contact of their hands make her this aroused? Her nipples stiffened, her sex growing wet.

Averting her gaze from his, she turned toward the couple. The Volar cast his demoness a look of open adoration. Gripping her breasts, he bucked his hips, bouncing the thrilled female.

Did Thronos realize he’d begun rubbing the palm of his hand against Lanthe’s in time with the Volar’s thrusts? Their palms were hot with friction, and Thronos’s every movement sent pleasure rippling through her body.

She exhaled a tremulous breath. Could he make her come like this? A completely new meaning for the term
hand job
. . . .

She would catch him staring at her as she watched; then she’d gaze up at him as his flickering eyes took in the scene. Since they were communicating telepathically, it was easy to slip into his thoughts.

He was reluctantly enjoying this spying because she obviously did, but also because it was a wicked secret between them—something
they
were doing together. He wanted more secrets between them. She hid a grin when she caught another of his thoughts. He was wondering how much more his swollen shaft could pain him:
There has to be a limit.

Oh, there was! Would they discover it together?

When the demoness took the Volar’s horns in hand, Thronos sounded like he’d stifled a groan. —
You did that to me earlier.—

—Would you like me to do it again?—

Hesitation. Then:
—I can’t lie. I’d want that very much. Your soft palms on me, handling me.—

Even out of the corner of her eye, she saw his engorged member pulse in his breeches. Her sex clenched in reaction.

When the Volar ripped down the demoness’s peasant blouse to suckle a breast, Lanthe’s lids went heavy, her own breasts swelling in the molded cups of her top.

Thronos moved his hand on hers faster. —
I would do that to you at every opportunity. I’d kill to do it now.—

She turned to him, found his spellbinding eyes filled with promise. Somehow he was beguiling
her.
The virgin was seducing the seductress!

If he had this power over her and made a move to claim her, how could she resist him? During this time, that could spell disaster!

Pregnant with Thronos Talos’s babe? The idea was too insane even to contemplate.

When the demoness cried out, she and Thronos both turned to the couple.

The Volar had positioned his female on her hands and knees, lifting her skirts. He’d taken her tenderly for as long as he’d been able to, but now his demon nature was clearly at the fore. With one animalistic shove, he entered her from behind, eliciting a lusty moan. After each thrust, he used his wings to draw his body back so he could plunge forward again. And again.

—I could take you thus.—

She barely bit back a whimper. —
If you ever looked at me like he looks at her, I’d consider it.—

Though the two below were groaning and moaning in abandon, their pace hitting its crescendo, Lanthe faced Thronos.

She felt light-headed with arousal, desiring him more than she’d ever thought possible.

—I’ve got to kiss you, Melanthe.—

Irresistible. Was she nodding?

At least here, they couldn’t do anything more than kiss. Things couldn’t get out of hand.

Our first real kiss.
His lips were inches from hers. . . .

A yell in Demonish sounded. She gasped. A pair of armored sentries had spotted them.

C
ome on!” Thronos snatched Melanthe into his arms, charging toward the rock bridge and the exit he’d scented.

“My sword!” She was reaching back for it.

“No time,” he snapped as he ran, bursting outside. Was this a continuation of the same mountainside path they’d hidden upon earlier? With more scavenging dragons?
Can’t take to the air till I’m sure.

A bower of black and silver foliage grew over the trail here, providing cover from above, from the hazy sun that had finally risen.

As he sprinted headlong down the mountain, Melanthe peeked over his shoulder. “More are coming!”

He glanced back. Two had become half a dozen. They were burly pathos demons, a vicious breed. Their armor could deflect his talons.

“Where are we going?”

The trail led toward a wooded valley between those two jagged ranges. “That’s a forest down there. We could lose them among the trees.”

“You’re heading
toward
a Pandemonian forest?”

“You have a better idea?” The lower they got, the closer they were to the river of lava. Sweat poured from him, ash drying out his mouth. The demons stayed right on his heels.

“I feel like I’m cooking!”

“We’re almost there.” The path finally veered away from the lava, leading straight to the forest.

As he and Melanthe neared the edge of it, she said, “They’re too close! We can’t lose them.”

“Then I fight.” He set her down, readying to combat the sentries. “Stay behind me. But remain close.” He faced off against the pursuing warriors, positioning his wings to strike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied two marble markers flanking the path. But he couldn’t divert his focus to read the glyphs.

Swords drawn, the sentries charged as one—

They stopped before him, just out of range. Right at the line of those markers.

“Come on, then!” He flared his wings, antagonizing them. “Fight me!” But they wouldn’t cross that line, shifting and muttering.

So there was something in these woods that even a cadre of demons feared?

A heartbeat later, he heard an earsplitting buzzing sound above them—hair-raising in its intensity! Melanthe shrieked. Was she running from him?

He whirled around, saw a black swarm oozing through the tree canopy as if it’d been poured.

“Wait, Lanthe!” he yelled as he sped for her deeper into the brush. The swarm was already between them, a multitude of solid black wasps with dripping stingers.

Their buzzing seemed to make the entire world vibrate, like his brain would be jostled to mush.

BUZZZZZZZZZZ

Melanthe had clapped her hands over her ears, still careening along that path. “I can’t take that sound!”