Oh, there was! Would they discover it together?

When the demoness took the Volar’s horns in hand, Thronos sounded like he’d stifled a groan. —You did that to me earlier.—

—Would you like me to do it again?—

Hesitation. Then: —I can’t lie. I’d want that very much. Your soft palms on me, handling me.—

Even out of the corner of her eye, she saw his engorged member pulse in his breeches. Her sex clenched in reaction.

When the Volar ripped down the demoness’s peasant blouse to suckle a breast, Lanthe’s lids went heavy, her own br**sts swelling in the molded cups of her top.

Thronos moved his hand on hers faster. —I would do that to you at every opportunity. I’d kill to do it now.—

She turned to him, found his spellbinding eyes filled with promise. Somehow he was beguiling her. The virgin was seducing the seductress!

If he had this power over her and made a move to claim her, how could she resist him? During this time, that could spell disaster!

Pregnant with Thronos Talos’s babe? The idea was too insane even to contemplate.

When the demoness cried out, she and Thronos both turned to the couple.

The Volar had positioned his female on her hands and knees, lifting her skirts. He’d taken her tenderly for as long as he’d been able to, but now his demon nature was clearly at the fore. With one animalistic shove, he entered her from behind, eliciting a lusty moan. After each thrust, he used his wings to draw his body back so he could plunge forward again. And again.

—I could take you thus.—

She barely bit back a whimper. —If you ever looked at me like he looks at her, I’d consider it.—

Though the two below were groaning and moaning in abandon, their pace hitting its crescendo, Lanthe faced Thronos.

She felt light-headed with arousal, desiring him more than she’d ever thought possible.

—I’ve got to kiss you, Melanthe.—

Irresistible. Was she nodding?

At least here, they couldn’t do anything more than kiss. Things couldn’t get out of hand.

Our first real kiss. His lips were inches from hers. . . .

A yell in Demonish sounded. She gasped. A pair of armored sentries had spotted them.

TWENTY-THREE

Come on!” Thronos snatched Melanthe into his arms, charging toward the rock bridge and the exit he’d scented.

“My sword!” She was reaching back for it.

“No time,” he snapped as he ran, bursting outside. Was this a continuation of the same mountainside path they’d hidden upon earlier? With more scavenging dragons? Can’t take to the air till I’m sure.

A bower of black and silver foliage grew over the trail here, providing cover from above, from the hazy sun that had finally risen.

As he sprinted headlong down the mountain, Melanthe peeked over his shoulder. “More are coming!”

He glanced back. Two had become half a dozen. They were burly pathos demons, a vicious breed. Their armor could deflect his talons.

“Where are we going?”

The trail led toward a wooded valley between those two jagged ranges. “That’s a forest down there. We could lose them among the trees.”

“You’re heading toward a Pandemonian forest?”

“You have a better idea?” The lower they got, the closer they were to the river of lava. Sweat poured from him, ash drying out his mouth. The demons stayed right on his heels.

“I feel like I’m cooking!”

“We’re almost there.” The path finally veered away from the lava, leading straight to the forest.

As he and Melanthe neared the edge of it, she said, “They’re too close! We can’t lose them.”

“Then I fight.” He set her down, readying to combat the sentries. “Stay behind me. But remain close.” He faced off against the pursuing warriors, positioning his wings to strike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied two marble markers flanking the path. But he couldn’t divert his focus to read the glyphs.

Swords drawn, the sentries charged as one—

They stopped before him, just out of range. Right at the line of those markers.

“Come on, then!” He flared his wings, antagonizing them. “Fight me!” But they wouldn’t cross that line, shifting and muttering.

So there was something in these woods that even a cadre of demons feared?

A heartbeat later, he heard an earsplitting buzzing sound above them—hair-raising in its intensity! Melanthe shrieked. Was she running from him?

He whirled around, saw a black swarm oozing through the tree canopy as if it’d been poured.

“Wait, Lanthe!” he yelled as he sped for her deeper into the brush. The swarm was already between them, a multitude of solid black wasps with dripping stingers.

Their buzzing seemed to make the entire world vibrate, like his brain would be jostled to mush.

BUZZZZZZZZZZ

Melanthe had clapped her hands over her ears, still careening along that path. “I can’t take that sound!”

BUZZZZZZZZZZ

Using his wings to fan and bat the wasps, he fought through the cloud to reach her, biting back yells with each sting—like icepicks stabbing his skin!

And that sound was about to drive him insane.

Closing in on her, he nearly tripped over one of another pair of engraved marble markers along the path. They read:

The pest that WAS . . .

What did that mean? Confusing bloody place! He lunged for Melanthe, enclosing her in his wings as they hit the ground.