“I can barely think past this fever for you.” Her eyes were luminous, telling him things he didn’t have the experience to recognize.

He sensed a vulnerability in her that he wouldn’t have expected.

As he knelt between her thighs, he said, “Worry not, Melanthe. I’ll be good to you. I’ll be true to you.”

“If we do this, we might be taking a step there’s no turning back from.”

“Tell me you want this.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I do.”

Then it will be done. He was to take his mate.

At the thought, his gaze was drawn to the smooth column of her neck. His fangs ached, as if to mark her.

Vrekener males didn’t bite their mates upon claiming. Defeating the compulsion, he fisted his erection, swiping his thumb over the head as he aimed it toward her tiny opening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Go slow at first.” With a smile in her tone, she said, “Be tender for as long as you can.”

He tilted his hips toward her. Just as dampness kissed his sensitive skin, she gave a moan, undulating, sending the crown slipping up and down her wet folds.

A growl rose up from his chest. He wanted her arousal all over him. On his tongue, on his fingers, covering his shaft.

He placed his hands on either side of her head, easing his hips forward. Uncontrollable urges tormented him, and he had to gnash his teeth to keep from plunging inside at once. He’d delved just an inch into her core when his entire body gave a shudder. “My gods!” Another inch. “Melanthe, I will want this every hour of the day. You are—”

“Sweet!” a female said from not ten feet behind them. “Hot interspecies action! And I didn’t even have to subscribe to this channel!”

THIRTY-SEVEN

For a brief second, Lanthe wondered if Thronos would ignore the interruption and keep going.

Gazing at the intense hunger on his face, she could tell he was debating it. . . .

But then protectiveness or propriety made him stop. With a surprisingly vile curse, Thronos pulled out. As he stood, he dragged Lanthe up as well, tucking her back against his front as his wings enfolded their bodies.

Lanthe narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired female who’d come upon them. It was none other than Nïx the Ever-Knowing. “Why are you in Feveris, Nïx?”

“Am I in Feveris? Are we?” Her voice was melodious, her amber eyes amused. She had a freaking bat perched on her shoulder. “What if we’re not?”

“I’ve been here before and know what it looks like.” Lanthe could hardly believe she’d just been caught beneath a Vrekener. Would Nïx tell Sabine? Stressing the words, Lanthe said, “Not to mention that we’ve been bespelled with unending desire.”

“Yet you two have no urge to do me?”

Lanthe muttered, “Maybe a little.” Nïx was a dish.

“Hey!” Thronos yanked Lanthe closer.

“Understandable.” Nïx twirled her long hair. “You two get dressed, and then we’ll talk.”

When the Valkyrie turned from them, Lanthe eased around within the circle of Thronos’s wings to face him. “We were bespelled.” They might not have been bespelled.

“Of course,” he said solemnly.

“We must have been.” Otherwise, Lanthe had so very nearly let Thronos Talos claim her—during her most fertile time. And she’d been about to shove her hips up to get him inside her faster!

If she got pregnant with a Vrekener’s baby . . . with his baby . . .

His expression was inscrutable. Was he angry at himself for their offendments? “Of course,” he repeated. “The Valkyrie must be mistaken.”

“Uh-huh.” Untruth.

He released Lanthe so they could find their clothes. She darted for her necklace right away.

The Valkyrie sauntered back to them as soon as Lanthe and Thronos were dressed. Nïx herself wore a T-shirt that read: I lost my heart on Immortal Island!

Recalling how Nïx had helped Thronos, Lanthe narrowed her eyes. “You told him how to capture me. Why would you betray me?”

“Did I?”

“I’ve been running from him for centuries.” Or she had been. Act like partners long enough . . .

“Have you?”

“Will you stop answering questions with questions?”

“Will I?”

“Ugh!” Lanthe wanted to strangle her!

“You both have roles to fulfill.”

“What roles?” Thronos grated.

Nïx waved her hand in an arc above her as she breathed, “Future ones!”

Wait . . . immortal island? “You were on the Order’s prison island, weren’t you?”

“Was I?” Nïx asked with a coy smile.

“You talked to me when I was unconscious!” Lanthe flashed a look of realization. “You hit me in the face with a log!”

“You dare accuse me of such a thing?!” Nïx snapped, her Valkyrie emotions producing lightning above. “Outrageous! I would never!” Then she abruptly frowned. “I might have hit you in the face with a log.”

“You talked to me about realms and fires. Why?”

“You were in the mortal plane, then Pandemonia, now here, and soon . . . there. You really are the cutest wittle devilkin of a catalyst!”

“Catalyst? You’ve been steering my portals! You—you rigged my subconscious.” Hadn’t Lanthe felt like this journey was bigger than just her and Thronos? Had Nïx wanted them in Pandemonia to shake up those demons? To bring peace to hell? After all, what could those armies fight over now?