Consciousness dimmed, her thoughts blanking until her heart finally slowed its frantic beat.

With soothing kisses along her thighs, he released her at last. She thought she heard him rasping against her skin, “Never go back.”

Oh, Thronos. Her devastating demon lover.

Still catching her breath, she rose to her knees before him. He sat back on his heels, his thick c**k jutting upright, rigid as granite, the head bulging. He inhaled deeply, as if to regain control of himself. In one instant, he looked like a demon about to die from need. In the next, he appeared proud, thrumming with masculine satisfaction.

He should be proud. He’d just wrung from her two mind-shattering orgasms.

But Feveris’s spell was potent. She wasn’t sated. As she gazed at his engorged shaft, desire bloomed once more. Another breeze blew; could he feel the cooling air on that tight, aching part of him?

He shuddered, answering her question. A translucent bead rose from the slit. He looked shocked to feel moisture there.

“It’s pr**cum,” she murmured. “Is this the closest you’ve ever been to ejaculating?”

His brows drew together. “Yes.”

Because he was with his mate. Only for her would he release his seed, only inside of her. But it seemed a drop had escaped. Her tongue twirled in her mouth for it. She couldn’t tell which part of her was hungrier for his shaft: her sex or her mouth.

“Melanthe, I need to claim you,” he bit out.

She’d wondered if they could simply burn off steam, averting intercourse. How ridiculous that seemed now. He was going to be inside her today. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t first kiss him in a like fashion.

She wanted to give him that pleasure because he’d just delivered her to unknown heights—but also because she was experiencing feelings for him.

Feelings that demanded an outlet.

She needed to lavish kisses on the scars he hated. To thank his invincible heart for never succumbing. “Can we do that in a bit, Thronos? I thought I could taste you now.”

“Taste?” His voice was hoarse.

“Will you lie back?”

He wordlessly nodded, eyes widening a touch when he fully comprehended what she was offering. The proud look he’d sported had turned to one of disbelief.

Once he reclined with his wings spread out over the field, she settled between his legs. “Are you ready?”

In answer, he impatiently bucked his hips, his muscled torso flexing, his mouthwatering c**k bobbing—the most erotic sight she’d ever witnessed.

Lust jumbled his thoughts.

Thronos wanted to take his mate, but after what he’d just experienced . . . he’d never last.

He was rattled by how much he’d needed to pleasure her like that. What male wouldn’t be uneasy when he’d just discovered something he was certain he’d die without?

She started kissing down his chest, holding his gaze with her shimmery eyes. She pressed her lips to the scar over his heart, remaining there for long moments. As she nuzzled her smooth cheek against his marked flesh, he thought he heard her breathe, “Invincible.”

Did she mean . . . his heart?

He’d been confused before. Now? He didn’t know how he should react, what he should say.

She continued lower, sending his mind into turmoil. Her hair had begun to dry in silken curls around her face and shoulders. When the winds made locks dance over his skin, he could perceive each tendril.

Enchantress . . .

He felt like he was watching some kind of mystery being played out, something he’d known occurred—without any idea of the inner workings.

Hands shaking, he grasped her head, barely checking the urge to guide her down to his aching member.

Yet then she descended to . . . his thigh? He jerked in surprise when she pressed more loving kisses along the length of that scar.

As in the dream she’d described, he wanted more. He’d never thought she could convey affection with this act.

She kissed his damaged ankle and calf, sources of grueling pain for him. In the beginning, he’d wanted her to suffer guilt, to regret.

No longer.

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. “Melanthe . . .” But he fell silent when she moved to his erection, taking hold of him.

His shaft pulsated in her soft grip. Moisture glistened across the crown. Would she mind that? When she was about to kiss him there? To his way of thinking, it seemed almost impolite to her. He was shocked at how little dominion he had over his body. He was literally in her hands—

She daubed the hot bead with her tongue.

A dumbfounded breath escaped him. With a shudder, he gave her another drop.

Her lips curled, as if he’d pleased her. Not impolite? Erotic. She liked it. She used that bead to thumb the head in mind-numbing circles. “Does this make you feel good?”

“Lanthe, you know it does.” She was teasing him? Now?

He stared down at the seductive curve of her red lips. He wished he could read her mind.

Because he feared he was about to lose his.

She rubbed him until his head swam, lust firing inside him. His claws dug deep into his palms when visions arose . . .

Of thrusting into her mouth. Of lifting her by her hips and planting her on his throbbing shaft.

Of tossing her to the ground so he could cover her, shoving deep within her tight, wet sheath.

Not visions. Impulses. Gods help them if he lost control.

Suddenly he felt her tongue—against his sensitive sac. “Unh!” His knees fell wide, allowing her free rein to do as she would.