What is she experiencing?

Her active dream life was yet another part of her held separate from him. He could probe her mind, but the idea sat ill with him. She was his wife now; no one should take advantage of her.

Including himself.

THIRTY-THREE

Lila woke from a deep, dream-filled sleep, her body warm and rested.

Where was she? Not the cold stone floor of the tower. Not her bed in her apartment.

She blinked open her eyes, squinting against a bright light. Wait . . . That’s a glyph.

The demon lay on his back, and she was sprawled over him, her arm draped across his chest. Her knee was thrown over his torso, and her calf rested on his hard dick.

Her lips were an inch away from a pierced nipple; he had to feel her breaths. Her pussy pressed against one of his hips, and she might have been rocking her own.

Lazily petting her hair, he rasped, “In sleep, my wife can’t get enough of me.” His dick jerked, lifting her freaking leg.

She scrambled away from him, tripping out of the bed, too late realizing she was naked. She swiped her robe, yanking it on. “What were you doing to me?”

He raised his brows. “Doing to you? I haven’t touched you. I told you I wouldn’t.”

This didn’t even compute. A warrior demon would be expected to take what he wanted, especially from a female who was legally his. Especially when she’d been rubbing against him.

With his dick tenting the sheet, he put his hands behind his head, the corded muscles in his torso and arms flexing.

That body is too much. Demonesses must go crazy for him.

Smirk in place, he said, “I didn’t touch you—even though you used me as a masturbatory scratching post all night and morning.” Could he look any smugger?

“What are you talking about?”

“For hour after hour, you ground against me, moaning, all but coming. The worst torment I have ever known. Each time I attempted to get away, you would sink your nails into me and give this little growl of displeasure. I translated it to mean Please, oh glorious demon, stay.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said . . . though she had experienced graphically sexual dreams about him. Even now she was turned on like crazy.

“Yes, you do.”

Her lips thinned. “Then you just lay there and took it?”

“I forced myself to relive my most grueling battle campaigns. During the Buthidae offensive, I went without water for weeks in a desert teeming with giant scorpions. In the Quotoh invasion, my allies and I seized control of a strategically favorable but noxious swamp. Those campaigns were less torturous than your attentions. When I was at war, I fantasized about my mate. Now that I have you in my bed at last, I must fantasize about war.”

Again, does not compute. “Why did you?”

“The sooner you trust me, the sooner you’ll ask me to claim you.”

“So you were decent for calculating reasons?” Figured. “If I did rub on you, I probably mistook you for a body pillow.”

“Do you often rub yourself against large pillows to orgasm?” He was clearly imagining the visual; his shaft jerked again, drawing her attention. “Female, I would take on an army to see that.”

She made out the impressions of his piercings against the sheet before she focused elsewhere.

“Looking away? Even after last night?”

“Everything I see—or feel—just reinforces my belief that we are not anatomically compatible.” Among other issues. He’d been waiting to lose his seal for ten millennia. All that pent-up need had built on itself, century after century.

She wouldn’t visit a volcano that was overdue to blow, yet this demon was supposed to erupt inside her body.

What female wouldn’t cross her legs tight at the thought? Much less a virgin. “If your marriage required you to get clubbed nightly, would you want to stare down the bat beforehand?”

“That analogy isn’t flattering—or accurate. You’ll get clubbed five times a day, minimum.”

“You’re taunting me? Anticipation of a blow is oftentimes worse than the hit.”

“Since I refuse to claim you until I’m asked, that puts you in control. The club is in your hands.” Smirk deepening, he added, “After last night, you’ve got me by the bat.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Calliope, if you ever don’t like something I do, tell me to stop. If you’re not prepared for something, tell me to wait. If you have questions, I welcome them. It’s that simple.” He sounded so . . . reasonable. “Any questions so far?”

Before she could stop herself, she’d asked, “You truly got your dick pierced?”

“I am pierced. Three barbells of hell metal.”

What would make him do that? Had a lover wanted it? A flare of jealousy took her by surprise.

“You look displeased. Come then, firebrand, don’t knock my cock until you’ve thoroughly tried it. Especially since it’s the only one you’ll ever know for the rest of your immortal life.”

“Can’t you let me ease into all this? It’s not as if I’ve spent oodles of time checking out dicks. Disney Wi-Fi is not conducive to exploring porn, much less supersecret Lorean porn.”

He canted his head. “I’ll take you to a pleasure dimension, and you can watch sex live.”

“Really?” How did she feel about that?

“After last night, I’m inclined to take my passionate wife anywhere she pleases.”

Glimpses of what this life could bring proved so seductive. She shook her head hard. He’s a Møriør, Lila. Two orgasms couldn’t erase that.

He sat up in bed and stretched his long arms. Even his wings expanded.

She’d bet those felt good to stretch. When his wing claws extended, she wondered if he’d kept them retracted all night.

Casting her a significant look, he said, “I’d love to know what you were dreaming about.”

In between lifelike scenes of licking his nipples and sucking on his neck, she’d dreamed of the fawn again.

She’d been running with it across a green field that turned rocky and ashen. She’d slowed when it neared the edge of a cliff. Some kind of mysterious light had blazed up from below. She’d urged the fawn to come to her—but it’d walked right off the edge.