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He entered his palatial suite, one even more lavish than the bedchamber in his stronghold. Would Kosmina’s suite compare to the luxury of her home in Dacia? He found a steaming tub large enough to swim in, a basket of fruit and nuts, and a bottle of wine.

Sorceri were susceptible to poisons—I would know—yet wines that could mask such a taint were always on tap in their lairs. He shunned the drink but devoured the food.

It fueled his immortal regeneration, his frame putting on some of the muscle he’d lost during his withdrawal and Nightside’s trials. His body had retained its resilience; why did his power still suffer?

Once he’d satisfied the worst of his hunger, he stripped off his clothes and sank into the steaming water.“Great sand.”He rested his head on a waiting pillow and basked. . . .

Yet antsiness soon invaded him. Not surprising. His drug of choice was on offer here.

Would he accept and let down his guard? The only thing that could make a sorcerer more vulnerable than exhaustion was inebriation. And during his last binge, Silt had mistaken a cold street for a warm bed!

He traced the tattoos on his chest, a vow to defend his root power to the death. No, he’d never make himself vulnerable. Surely not. And so the cravings would continue. That must explain the unease.

His fingers paused. His need for opium wasn’t all that affected him.

He gazed in Kosmina’s direction.I don’t want to part from her. Not yet.For the first time since his parents had betrayed him, he had another’s safety on his mind.

My asset. My prize.His oasis memory remained fresh in his mind.Should I follow that irritating vampire over the next dune and see what might be?

He snatched up soap and quickly scrubbed himself, intending to dress and then harangue her again for trying to kill him. He’d just dunked his head a last time when half a dozen bath attendants, beauties all, sauntered into the chamber.

One said, “In a hurry, King of Sand? We’re here to assist you withanythingyou might desire.”

He swiped water off his smiling face. So Enti had sent in concubines to service him? He sensed that three were shifters, and the others were masked Sorceri of limited power.I’m one to talk.

“We’ve heard you’re quite the ladies’ man,” another one said. “Ladiesplural.”

With their coy glances and wiles, they reminded him of his own harem. His smile faded. Why hadn’t a single one of the females in his stronghold lifted a finger to help him?

His gaze flicked in the vampire’s direction as he recalled all she’d done—and would continue to do—for her loved one. He dug into the idea of a bond like that, feeling like he’d spotted a hint of a wellspring in the deepest desert.

“Sorcerer?”

He turned back to the females. Pleasure was on tap here; all he had to do was surrender to it. But Enti was right—he craved Kosmina alone.

For now. Once sated of the vampire, that feeling would fade.

Had the sorceress been testing him with this offer of females? Gauging how long his preference would hold when his desires went unmet?

His eyes narrowed. Maybe Enti had procured males to help Kosmina with her bath. He shot to his feet with a curse, securing a towel around his waist.

“Sorcerer, we don’t bite!” The females laughed. Feminine laughter was his aphrodisiac. It meant women were happy and more likely to bed him. These were guaranteed.

And yet he strode to the door.

He yanked it open and came face-to-face with Kosmina.

Twenty-Four

Mina had heard pealing laughter in the sorcerer’s room and thought,He’s wasted no time.

She’d frowned at her bitter disappointment. Enti had said Silt desired Mina alone, but she’d learned at the nymphs’ that a male could lust after a female and feel nothing in his heart.

No loyalty. No love.

No thanks.

Now he seemed to take up most of the doorway—a towering male clad in only a damp towel. He’d put on even more muscle, his physique brimming with virility. Droplets of water trailed over him. His smooth skin emanated warmth and his seductive natural scent.