Keeping her back to him, she hooked her thumbs around the frayed lace, pulling them down her legs. As she kicked the thong away, she thought she heard him swallow thickly.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Very.” The word was a harsh grate.

“You sure?”

“Melanthe,” he growled in warning.

She dropped her arm and turned with her shoulders back. She caught one of his thoughts, and it sent a ripple of satisfaction through her.

—Mother. Of. Gods.—

TWENTY-SIX

Thronos had barely recovered from the vision of her flawless ass when she turned to him, unleashing the full force of her beauty. At the sight, three things happened:

He almost fell out of the tree.

His shaft shot so hard so fast that he grew dizzy.

And he decided he’d deal with any danger as it came along.

He’d known her br**sts were generous. Now he saw they were perfection. Milk-white, a touch fuller at the bottom, topped with cherry-red ni**les.

If he were a fanciful male, he’d swear those peaks were stiffening under his avid gaze. His member began to throb.

Her narrow waist flared to shapely hips. The black thatch of hair on her mons was a small, trimmed V. Her legs were long and lithe. He imagined them bent beside his hips as she rode his shaft—or kneeling over his head as she straddled his tongue.

“I’ll just wash off, then,” she said in a casual tone. Seeming unaware of her earth-shattering effect on him, she stepped under the cascade, tipping her face to the water, and started to bathe.

She must be confident that he could control himself; she was mistaken.

But considering the way his erection ached, intercourse would be short-lived. He decided to get his first release behind him, then seduce her slowly.

He had a last brief thought about dangers and being alert, but then she rubbed water over her br**sts—the most breathtaking sight he’d ever witnessed.

Conclusion: the plan to mate her as soon as possible is sound.

Never taking his eyes off her, he was only dimly aware that his shaking hands had begun removing his boots.

As she rinsed her hair, she noticed him removing his second boot. “You didn’t say anything about your getting naked.”

“I plan to touch you.”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t that be an offendment?”

He nodded ominously.

“Do I have any say in this?” She drew her hair behind her shoulders.

“You told me that if I saved you from the swamp serpents, you would let me touch you.”

“Oh. That. I didn’t say you could while I was naked.”

In answer, he dropped to the ground, striding toward her.

Lanthe was in a precarious position. She desired Thronos. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that her attraction to him was already greater than to any other male.

But touching led to claiming.

She was going to have to trust Thronos not to follow his most primal instincts. In general, males had never given her much reason to trust them. And this one was already rock hard, his c**k straining against the leather of his breeches.

Thronos started on his pants as he closed in, his scarred fingers unlacing them, his stomach muscles flexing. Once the fly gaped, she followed his dark goody trail from his navel—

Down went his pants. Her jaw dropped in time. Well. Thronos is all growed up.

He planned to claim her. With that?

She could tell he was uncomfortable, obviously unused to being naked around another. But apparently his need was burning away his instilled modesty.

When he pressed closer, she stepped back against the smooth tree trunk, putting the curtain of water between them. With a second’s reprieve, she resolved again to go only up to a point with him. She could control herself, despite her hormones, despite the body he’d just revealed!

He continued forward, letting the water run over his back and wings. He shook his dark hair out, wet locks whipping over his broad cheekbones. Between his narrow hips, his erection jutted hungrily.

She waved to it. “You still deny your demon blood? Exhibit A. Case dismissed.”

Aside from his nearly dismaying size, his c**k was gorgeous. The shaft was straight and thick, with a dominant vein visibly pulsing. The crown bulged so much that the slit was almost hidden. His testicles were large, and looked in need of cupping and kissing.

When she could drag her gaze up, she was treated to his entire body in all its naked glory. His rugged muscles were ideally proportioned for his seven feet of height. The width of his shoulders only highlighted the leanness of his hips.

Above the sculpted planes of his torso, his pecs were rigid slabs of masculinity. Were those flat, dusky ni**les of his sensitive? The thought had her twirling her tongue in her mouth.

Scars crisscrossed his chest, one curling around his hip, another deep one slashing up his left thigh. But they didn’t blunt her attraction whatsoever.

He was indeed tan all over. The sun had kissed him from the top of his head to that mouthwatering shaft to his feet. One of his lower legs looked swollen, as if the tendons were knotted there, and his foot curved inward. The cause of his limp. She thought he was fighting to keep his foot straight for this perusal.

She wished he wouldn’t bother, but males were funny like that. Show no weakness, grrr.

He’d seen all of her; she wanted a similar viewing of him, so she emerged from the water, sauntering around him. When he realized what she was doing, he lifted his chin, as if steeling himself against her reaction. But he didn’t move out from under the cascade.