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He combs through her marigold blonde curls. “Will I be jealous of your bookshelf, Wildflower?”

“You can count on it, Demon.”

“Ugh. All this sap,” Sorrow grumbles. “Excuse me.”

She collects her weapons, struggles to her feet, and flees the scene. Because that attitude isn’t out of the ordinary, no one blinks.

Envy’s not deceived. She had looked about to cry.

He goes after her. And now he’s certain the group is staring after him. Because lust partners or not, Envy never has to chase a female, especially not this goddess.

He stalks past clusters of archers. At the edge of the cliff, a crevice of rocks shrouds her from the encampment, where she stares at the distant crests.

No, not at the crests. She gazes at the stars.

She gazes at them with concentration, as if…calling to someone?

“Hey,” he demands, storming toward her.

She whips around, a string of hair batting her chin. “Hey, yourself.”

“What is this? What are you doing, Sorrow?”

“If I told you I came here to pee, would you go away?”

“What’s going on with you? In the grotto, I thought—”

“That was a mistake.”

“Which part? The part where I came inside you, or the part where you came around me?”

“For Fate’s sake, get lost! For once, let me be!”

Fury doesn’t become him, so Envy changes tactics. He backs Sorrow against the cliff wall, one hand plastered above her head, the other beside her hip. Leaning in, he cages her there. “Oh, hun. If my proximity is too overwhelming that you needed a breather, all you had to do was say so.”

“Quit the swagger. It doesn’t work on me.”

His feline grin drops. “Then tell me you don’t want me.”

“I…,” she falters. “I don’t…”

“Go on,” he dares, speaking against her lips. “Tell me what happened in the enclave meant nothing. Tell me you’re not still thinking about it.” His timbre lowers to a scant whisper. “The way I felt. The way you felt. How we watched each other the whole time.”

His voice breaks a little. Worse, his heart commits a similar crime.

When Sorrow’s fingers drift to his waist, Envy takes that as permission and runs his palm along the side of her breast. “Tell me you don’t want this right here, right now. Say that you don’t want me, hidden from view but with everyone less than fifty feet away—”

On a snarl, her mouth snatches his. The next thing he knows, they’re pawing at each other, his tongue flicking with hers as the kiss goes wild. And then next thing he knows, he’s hoisting Sorrow against the foundation, her skirt flapping open. And then next thing he knows, she’s ripping into his trousers, the material giving and slumping around his hips.

Her eyes sear into his. That alone sews the gash in his heart. Triumphant, he finds her entrance and thrusts. A rapturous cry lurches from Sorrow’s throat, obligating him to cover her mouth with his hand.

Envy’s body gyrates, his length surging into her with deliberate, even strokes. They gasp to the solid pump of their bodies, her legs flaring around him, her passage narrow and damp. The lovemaking takes on a measured yet delirious rhythm, equally bereft and irate.

As her pelvis rolls and meets his, he hisses into one ear. “That’s right. Ride me like I’m yours.” He switches to the other ear. “Ruin me like I’m yours.”

When Sorrow’s moans grow louder, his mouth replaces his hand, tasting her pleasure. They kiss, they kiss, and they fucking kiss. With each throb, they chase that blinding light, chasing it, chasing it.

And the next thing he knows, they’re falling into oblivion, disheveled and spasming against one another. Their mouths cling, holding in the cries that tear from their lungs.