When she traced her thumb across the taut head, his shaft jerked in her palm, continuing to grow.

“You’re really big,” she said as she fondled him from base to tip.

He had to clear his throat to manage: “Females like big.”

“Only if they’re prepared for it, and it’s deployed properly.”

Worry creased his brow. “How should I prepare you?”

“I’ll make sure you get me ready.” Because sex was inevitable? It was beginning to feel that way.

She continued to stroke him as he rocked to her fist, but when she cupped his testicles, he went stock-still. “Melanthe,” he grated, grasping her wrist to stay her hand. “I’ve many things I’m dying to do to you. I want to last.”

“Hmm. What things?” By the way he was staring at her eyes, she knew they must be glittering.

In an anguished tone, he said, “Readying you?”

“Bite off your foreclaw.”

Without a word, he did.

She took his hand in both of hers. When she guided his forefinger into her core, his lids went heavy. Eyes on his, she gave a soft moan.

“My gods,” he choked out, his horns straightening fully. She caught his thought: How will I ever fit inside her?

Fit? No, they didn’t have to have sex! She told herself this, even as she was motioning for him to move his finger. Once he began to thrust with it, they both shuddered.

Her clitoris swelled for attention, her lips plumping around his finger. Soon she was panting, kissing and licking the warm skin of his chest.

Yet then he drew his hand away. Lifting it to his mouth, he sucked his forefinger down to the second knuckle, his eyes hooded.

“Oh!” Her breath hitched. Who was this sexy male? “Ohhh.”

When he’d taken all of her taste, he released his finger. “I want more of that, Melanthe.”

Should she broach o**l s*x with him? He might want more, but it was an offendment. Feveris’s spell made her feel reckless: Bring it up. He’ll totally love it! “Speaking of readying me? I think o**l s*x would help—”

In the space of a heartbeat, he’d seized her in his arms. Striding through the water as if something chased them, he carried her to the bank of the pool. Scrambling out, he strode toward the sea, setting her down on a mat of flowers beneath swaying palms.

His gaze seemed to follow the drops sluicing down her body as he joined her. Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the palm fronds, glinting off her necklace.

With a questioning glance, he reached for it. Though she was loath to remove it, even for a minute, she didn’t want anything to distract her from this male. She nodded, and he set it close by.

“I truly was going to give this to you, as a courtship gift.”

“You risked your life for a gift?”

He grinned. “When it’s the one your mate’s set her heart on . . .” Then he moved between her legs, clasping her behind her knees, lifting until she brought her feet up.

She rose up on her elbows, needing to see his every reaction. Judging by the intent look on his face, nothing could stop him from this.

He laid his roughened palms on her inner thighs, spreading them till her knees opened wider. A breeze blew sultry air against her slickened sex.

Even if she hadn’t known it was his first time in this position, the way he stared in fascination would give him away. His smoldering eyes were rapt, his expression saying, Mercy.

His thoughts drifted into her mind: —Her exquisite flesh . . . so delicate. Want to set upon her . . . — When he licked his lips in anticipation, the sight of that pointed tongue made her tremble.

In a barely recognizable voice, he said, “I had my turn in the glade. You’ll have yours now.” His gaze bored into hers. “See that it happens.”

It? Her orgasm? He was telling her in his own way to guide him—because he’d never done this before.

When she gave an unsteady nod, he eased in to press his mouth to one of her thighs. With a tender lick, he told her, “Hold back nothing, Melanthe. . . .”

When he’d sampled her taste on his finger, Thronos had known what forbidden thing he would do. And then for her to suggest it? That she wanted his kiss aroused him like nothing he’d ever imagined.

He could scarcely think past the ache in his shaft. His horns had straightened and were aching along with it.

He knew only two things for certain:

His mate was incomparable, her glistening sex a thing of beauty.

And he was the luckiest male alive.

Yet then he frowned when he felt a stabbing pain low on his torso. He glanced down, spied no matching injury, just old scars.

His pain was forgotten when she rolled her hips, as if to attract his mouth. He gently eased her pink folds apart with his thumbs, riveted by the shadowy dip he uncovered. Her entrance. While he wondered again how he’d ever fit that tiny opening, his shaft jerked, straining for it.

Brows drawn with absorption, he rubbed the dip with his finger, breaching her slick core. Her cream was more slippery than water, and sweet.

The intoxicating taste of his mate.

As his head descended, his sensual female was panting in anticipation, her blue eyes shimmering like metal.

She cried out when he delved his tongue right at her opening. Now that he’d taken her taste into him, he didn’t understand how he’d lived his entire life without it. He licked his lips, shuddered, then set back in with a ravening hunger.

“Oh, ohh!” As she undulated, he followed her sex, piercing that slight dip with the tip of his tongue.