Page 50 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

When she finally spoke, he could barely hear her. “A ruin? Did you see him?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes, before we went to Knossalikon to see Solon.”

She turned around, trembling. “That’s why you were acting so strange that evening.”

“Strange? Maybe. I had to see him. In my mind, I’d already promised him a slow and painful death the moment I saw your scars, back at that lake.

” A heavy, heady feeling of vengeance surged through him.

“And I was pleased to find out that the Fates had already delivered it, and in a far better way than I could have imagined.” From up close, he noticed how she seemed to retreat into that quiet place within herself, as if she were walking a tightrope over a chasm, focusing to reach the other side without falling.

He pulled her close. “I hope you don’t even consider feeling sorry for him. He got exactly what he deserved.”

“I don’t know… how to feel about it.” She quieted and clung to him, her chin on his shoulder, her arms tight around him, and he was ready to hold her as long as she needed.

“You don’t have to think about it now. What matters is that you’re safe, and you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Ever.”

“Thank you,” she whispered against his skin. “You have no idea...”

He held her tighter. “No? You think I don’t know what it’s like to finally confess the secret that’s been gnawing at me for years, only to find out I won’t be hated for it?” He traced the scars on her back in long strokes. “To be absolved? To finally be at peace?”

She pulled back and watched him for a moment, emotions flickering in her eyes.

“You pulled me from a similar dark place into the light. I know how you feel.” And he paused, because at the edge of his mind, he grappled with his fear of what they’d face in the Underworld.

He didn’t want to speculate on the chances of overcoming or outwitting Eris to rescue Amatheia and Kalias—but if they succeeded, her mission in Anthemos would end.

Now that she knew everything, her past was no longer a howling monster but merely a bad memory, and nothing would stop her from returning to Mount Hellecon to reclaim her position and responsibilities.

The stab against his heart that this thought brought must have shown on his face.

“Theron? What’s wrong?”

He had never felt this vulnerable; he struggled for words, simple as they were. A part of it was that he had never had to beg for anything. But she was his exception. “When it’s all over, will you stay?” It came out both fierce and pleading.

Her eyes widened as she rested her hands on his cheeks, caressing his beard. He could see it was tearing her apart, too. “Don’t think about it now.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “It breaks my heart.”

“Can’t you even consider… staying? With me?”

“Theron—”

“Please.”

“Theron…” Her face tensed as she held back tears, her fingers tracing his lips. “All we have is now, and I don’t know what else we will be given. Let’s make the most of it, because this is so much more… than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

He was lost for words, torn between desire and despair, but when her lips touched his, hesitant, his response was fiery, because he sought solace as much as she did.

He no longer wanted to think, but craved to be inside her.

The softness of her body against his, her breathless whimper, the satisfaction of feeling her shiver under his fingertips and the way she leaned into him for more had already made him hard, which was a shock, because he couldn’t remember another woman having this effect on him.

If this is some kind of enchantment, let it last forever.

She let the kiss end and met his eyes—hers were misted, pupils dilated. “Let’s forget everything, Theron—” and her words dissolved in a gasp as he caressed her breasts, slick from the soap and pink from the hot water. Her breath became choppier with each squeeze and pinch of her nipples.

But then she surprised him by sliding her hands down to his shaft, fondling him in a way that was just right, her moves slow and sensual. An involuntary moan escaped him, and she swallowed it with her kiss.

“How are you so good at that?” he managed.

“I studied the art of massage, remember?” she replied, biting her lip. “I never knew this skill would be so… versatile.”

He laughed, missing whatever she whispered after that. “What did you say?”

“Let me ride you.”

His jaw dropped. “ Ride me ?”

She stilled, her eyes misted. “I’ll start screaming if you’re not inside me soon.”

“You’ll be screaming either way, I assure you.” He smirked. “You should know by now that I like to keep you unfulfilled—it makes everything after that taste better.”

Holding his gaze, she intensified her caresses, causing him to draw in a sharp breath. “I bet you don’t want me to stop now.”

“Damn it,” he choked out, blinded by need. “Point taken, my wild nymph. Take what you need.”

Her hands on his shoulders, she spanned him with her thighs and lifted herself.

He drank in the sight of her focused, defenseless face as she clenched around him while slowly lowering herself down his shaft, yielding, but also resisting, her body trembling as she took him deeper by torturous fractions.

That little breathy ah when she finally took all of him made him grasp her hips to control her movements.

“Gods,” he murmured, realizing that if he left her to her own devices, she’d have him coming in a heartbeat.

Her second thrust was bolder, driven by fixation and desperation. Her eyes were closed, lips parted as she gasped for air—he had to hold her up with a firmer grip on her hips.

“Theron.” Her whisper was almost reverent. “This feels… oh .”

“It’s a lot to take in,” he chuckled under his breath, still incredulous that she could be so, so hungry. “A different position, too. Go slow.”

“Why?” She opened her eyes, but they were unfocused.

“To enjoy it for longer.” He guided her into a slow rhythm to watch her face as she possessed him—determined and blatant about her thirst. He couldn’t get enough of her—of that radiant, enchanting aura about her as she pursued bliss on her terms: spasming on his shaft, gasping his name, undone.

He watched intently, unwavering, until she was on the edge, ready to soar.

He tightened his grip on her hips and moved her up and down, feeling her clench and flutter around him, water sluicing between them as he watched her climax unfolding, aware of every reaction of her body and memorizing it for as long as he could—until she pushed hard against him, and harder still, then leaned back to lilt a beautiful, singsong cry.

This was the last thing he saw before he ignited and shattered, his climax wild and heavy. He found her swollen lips, her tongue, moaning her name into her mouth, dizzy and blank for several stunning, blinding moments.

In a distant corner of his mind, he made a bold wish he knew might never come true.

But he asked for it anyway.