Dark Skye (33 page)

In a blur, swords arced out, whistling all around Thronos. He struck with both wings. Heads rolled across the ground like horned bowling balls. Jugular blood painted the silver grass red.

More demons advanced. More died. When Thronos’s wings whipped like sails, billowing the air, a fine mist of crimson sprayed over her face.

Any demon who attacked paid with his life. Thronos decapitated with a ruthless efficiency.

But they kept coming. Even the demons at the back started firing on Thronos, lobbing a hail of spears and daggers, fire and ice grenades.

He had to use one wing as a constant shield against the sky as more warriors closed in, swarming like ants from a kicked mound. He deflected the volleys, but he was getting slower, expending so much strength. He couldn’t stall them for much longer.

Only a matter of time.

Then he would die, and she’d be captured. Unless she did something.
When in trouble . . .
Portal!

She had some power, but was it enough to create a gateway to a different world, under pressure, just two days after her last one?

It’ll never happen.

Still, she raised her hand, dispelling sorcery right at the edge of the hell zone. As she labored to split the seam of this reality, Thronos must have felt the energy; he turned to her with his blood-wetted wings splayed, a warning in his eyes:
Do not run from me.

She gasped. In the lightning flashes, he looked like a . . . legend.

Like an avenging angel.

From hell.

Every inch of his skin was coated with others’ blood, his own as well. Gashes sliced his flesh, bisecting ancient scars. Stark against the crimson, his eyes were fully onyx—and locked on Lanthe as he began fighting his way toward her.

A rift was opening, drawing her attention from him!
Come on, portal! Come on!
Almost big enough for her to step through.
Rothkalina, Rothkalina, Rothkalina,
she repeated like a mantra.

There was nothing to stop her from leaving Pandemonia.
Could
she abandon Thronos to save herself? To return to her family?

After that kiss . . .

Look back over your shoulder at him again, and you’ll regret it.
Still, at the threshold, Lanthe bit her lip and turned back.

“Don’t!” His voice was rife with pain—as if he already
knew
she would leave him behind. “Don’t run from me, lamb!”

Lamb.

He hadn’t called her that since they were children. She remembered their last day together as they’d sat beneath his wings. She’d sighed that she loved him. His voice had been thick when he’d replied, “I-I love you too, lamb.”

Damn him! She couldn’t leave him.

Though demons dogged his heels, she bit out a curse and waited for him.
I can’t believe I’m doing this!

He looked as shocked as she felt. Yet then he cast her that determined expression of his, the one she now recognized. It meant he believed he was about to beat all odds and triumph.

He continued fighting to reach her, but with his attention divided, his strikes weren’t as efficient. She could see demons circling him in the air—and on the ground. Some lay in wait between Thronos and Lanthe.

He’d never reach her. And malicious gazes had already turned to her. Demons ready to kill. Or worse.

Think, Lanthe!
She couldn’t use persuasion on this many, especially not the ones farthest back. She frowned. Did she even need to?

As Sabine had told her:
Illusion is reality.

Lanthe yanked off the chain around her neck, holding it in a fist above her head. The pieces clanked loudly. “Look what I’ve got!” A few demons locked their gazes on the shining keys.

Infusing her command with sorcery, she yelled, “Look, Pandemonians,
look.
” Blue light coiled all around her, until she was radiating as brightly as the lightning above.

More warriors stilled, hushed murmurs floating over the crowd. In the lull, Thronos backed toward her.

She jostled the keys above her. “Do you want these?” Her sorcery was reflected in the eyes of the closest demons. “Or should I simply disintegrate them—with my deadly blue light?”
Ha!

Audible gasps sounded.

“I am a great and terrible goddess, the Keeper of Keys and the Queen of Hell.” She pointed at Thronos. “He is the mighty . . . Reader of Words.” (Best she got.) “Cease fighting him!” Another command.

The demons closest to her disengaged at once.

Brows raised, Thronos hastened to her. He mouthed,
Reader of Words?

Lanthe wasn’t done yet. She told the crowd, “Though we leave you now, I will return with these keys”—return for more gold—“but
only
if you achieve peace here.”
Geopolitical stability makes for easier treasure transpo.
“Understood?” She slipped the necklace back on.

When the unsteady threshold began to waver and shrink, Thronos sprinted for her. Would the space be wide enough for them to squeeze through?

He tucked her against him on his way to the portal. “You
awaited
me. For the first time, you didn’t run from me!” At her ear, he rasped, “You will never regret this.” Clasping her tight, he dove for the opening at the last second.

The rift sealed behind them as they barreled headlong into a new world.

A
hh!”
Lanthe screeched to find herself under a pounding waterfall in waist-high water.

She swiped her forearm across her face, sputtering. Thronos was before her, filling her vision.

He pulled her from the cascade, shaking out his dark hair. “Where are we?” The demon blood that had coated him had been scoured clean.

Turning to survey their surroundings, she blinked against the brightness of the day. The sun was a blazing golden ball in the sky. Past a field of bloodred wildflowers, she saw pink sand and a placid sea the color of new grass. This huge waterfall and pool were the same shade.

I know this pink beach. I know this scent.
The air was sultry, smelling of . . . Hawaiian Tropic, flowers, and sex.

Oh, no, no, this couldn’t be!

Yet then the sun began to twinkle. Feveris was usually sunny because its clouds were translucent; when they passed in front of the sun, they made it glimmer like a star. “Oh, my gold, this is Feveris.”

“We’re in the Land of Lusts?” Thronos said in the same tone a human might say, “For real, we’re Powerball winners?”

“This can’t be—I aimed for Rothkalina!”

“How long will it be till we’re robbed of control?” His voice was growing huskier.

“Less than ten minutes. That’s how long I was here before I had my servants drag me back. I’d just wanted to see if the rumors were true.” She lost track of what she’d been saying—because Thronos was smiling.

And it was
glorious.

Twinkling sunlight struck his eyes, setting his irises aglow, molten silver. His firm lips curled, revealing more of his even, white teeth and those fangs. She felt the mad urge to tap one of those points—with her tongue. With his face relaxed, his scars seemed to fade.

The first time she’d seen him smile since he was a boy.

Struggling to collect her thoughts, she asked, “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

“For one, you’re
alive.
More, you saved me from a demon army—and waited for me. For the first time! And
then
you brought us to Feveris. Maybe you wanted to come here with me as badly as I did with you? I think I’m growing on you.”

She wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. Something had happened in Pandemonia, a shift in her feelings for him. Had a fragile sprout of affection poked its head above snow?

Illusion
was
reality.
Act like partners long enough, guess what you’ll become. . . .

Stupid sprout.

“Already I feel the effects of this place.” He raked his gaze over her body, making her skin flush.

“I do too,” she admitted. Out from under the cascade, the water of this pool was balmy and soft. Warm breezes caressed her face, soothing her.

Before, she’d worried about letting go with him. She’d worried what he would think about her. Now the decision had been taken from her.
Had
she subconsciously steered them here?

“Why did you await me, Melanthe?” He reached forward to smooth his fingertips along her cheekbone, casting her a proud smile. “Why did my brilliant mate save me?”

Because this entire journey felt bigger than the two of them? Because when he’d called her
lamb,
her heart had ached from missing their friendship? “I just did, okay? But I didn’t intend to come here!”

At her tone, his smile dimmed, and she wanted to call it back. What was happening to her? She just needed time to think!

She tried to march away from him in the waist-deep pool, but her boots were water-logged. With a curse, she pulled off one, then the other, tossing them to the bank.

He must’ve seen this as an invitation to shed his own clothes. He dragged the remains of his shirt over his head. Faced with the body he was revealing, she couldn’t quite disabuse him.

“I thought Sorceri were hedonists?” Off went his own boots. “We’re in a plane devoted solely to pleasure. You should be gladdened.”

“If we lose control and have sex, it would be disastrous! I might get pregnant.” She could ask him to pull out at the last second, but she doubted a virgin would have the willpower necessary—especially when his instinct would be clamoring for him to break his demon seal and spill his seed.

He closed in on her. “Would it be so bad to have a child with me?”

“You mean a bastard?” she countered. “Look, I know you’re really gung-ho about having kids and all. But to me, getting pregnant would feel like getting trapped.” She reminded herself that Sorceri were unfruitful in general. The odds of it happening were overwhelmingly against.

“Honestly, I’m not as
gung-ho
as I was,” he said. “Before, I thought our young would be the only thing we had in common, and raising them our sole occupation. Now I’ve realized there’s much else for us to do.” He brought her hand to his groin, to the stiff shaft straining against his sodden breeches.

In a heartbeat’s time, she was just as aroused. “Like sex?” Typical male. And this one didn’t even know what he was missing!

“Not only sex. You could teach me all the references I don’t get. We could travel over realms together, exploring worlds.” With each of his
deep raspy words, her willpower dwindled. “You liked exploring with me, didn’t you?”

She
had.
Their wild-and-woolly adventure in Pandemonia had exhilarated pampered Lanthe.

But there was more to consider! “What about our history? Our families? The war between our factions? We haven’t resolved anything between us.” Even as she expressed her worries, her hand had begun stroking his length.

“We will,” he said, biting back a groan. “But now is not that time. Right now, we’re in Feveris, together, after surviving Pandemonia. We desire each other. Denying pleasure between us would be like squandering our coins.” He curled his finger under her chin. “And that’s something we don’t do.”

Irresistible demon. Her anxiety was diminishing, Feveris’s spell taking hold. Still she fought it. “Turning my words against me?” She dropped her hand—and regretted it immediately. “If we succumb to the magics here, how will we ever escape?”

“Once we’ve burned off the worst of the lust, you can persuade me to feel no Feveris effects. I’ll keep us focused until you can create another portal.”

“And again, you want me to use my power on you.”

“We don’t have a choice. I’m already losing control. For now, lose it with me.”

“Thronos—” She felt a sudden sharp twinge across her entire shoulder.
What the hell?
But when she glanced down there was no mark, and the pain ebbed. It was forgotten when he reached for her breastplate, unfastening the clips.

He tugged off the piece, tossing it to shore like a Frisbee.

Sunlight met her bare breasts. She couldn’t stop herself from arching toward the warmth, rolling her shoulders. Lingering misgivings receded like the lazy waves of the nearby sea.

When her breasts bobbed with her movement, Thronos was
transfixed, as if he was witnessing a miracle. “Melanthe, I’ve never wanted anything like I want this.” With his black claws curling, he reached for her skirt. It soon joined her breastplate. “I must claim my beautiful mate.” He tried to remove her panties, but in his haste, the lace gave way.

Once she was stripped of everything but her necklace, his eyes roamed over her greedily. He never took his gaze from her as he started removing his breeches, fumbling with the laces.

How nervous he must be! Did he worry how he’d measure up to her past lovers? Despite his uneasiness, he wore his determined look. He knew what he wanted—and he knew he was about to get it.

He shoved off his breeches, lobbing them to shore as well, the soaked leather making a
fwap
sound.