Sian pinched his forehead. “My apologies, Uthyr. How did you manage to get back here?”

—Let’s just say it involved a lot of firepower and many transdimensional connections.— His streams of fire burned tunnels to other worlds. —Since I was already out, I journeyed to Gaia to visit Rune in Louisiana. But weakness hindered my invisibility. I was seen by drunken mortals! They called me a Mardi Gras float. What in the hells is that?—

Sian shrugged, eager to get back to his mate.

—When I didn’t give them moon pies, they hurled beads at me!—

Indeed Uthyr had colorful beads dangling from his horns. The dragon’s scaled brow furrowed as he took in Sian’s expression. —Why do you look not miserable?—

“Much has occurred here as well.” Shoulders back, he said, “I wed Calliope yesterday.” He needed to get her a wedding gift. He’d procure jewels for her from one of Graven’s rooms.

Setting aside his ire, Uthyr said, —She accepted your appearance? Your past treatment of her?—

Sian rubbed the back of his neck. “I made a bargain with her not to invade Sylvan. I vowed that the Møriør would leave those inhabitants in peace.”

Uthyr rolled his golden eyes. —Still playing your games?—

“Maybe I know of no other way.”

—Wait, all of the inhabitants? Some of Magh’s line reside in Sylvan. Rune will go apoplectic to be denied his vengeance.—

“I’ll make him understand.”

—Let me know how that works out for you.— He sighed. —Of all the times for Orion to sleep.—

As if Sian and Rune would need some kind of intervention?

—Have you claimed your mate?—

He shook his head. “She will let me know when she is ready.”

—Finally, an iota of sense from you. I don’t suppose you’ve told her your appearance will continue to change.—

“No. I want to give her a chance to cleave to me, if that’s possible. And it might just be.” Her smoldering sensuality had staggered him. “She is demonstrating facets I never saw before.”

She’d wanted to touch him! Her tender caresses on the beach had set him aflame. He could scarcely believe she’d kissed his horns. And all the while, the maddening scent of her arousal had deepened.

Maybe she did belong here in hell. With him.

—What facets?—

Sian couldn’t stop his grin. “She’s a lusty one.”

—Lucky demon.—

“Gods, dragon, that female is bliss embodied.” She’d already ruined him for all other females.

—You’ve forgiven her for everything in the past?—

Sian’s grin faded as if never there. “I try to turn my mind from it, but I fear the past will be like a drop of acid, seething forever.” Even in the midst of such pleasure on the beach, he’d been reminded of losing his horns. “I can’t relive certain memories without erupting into a rage.” The amputation and her reaction . . .

—Excellent foundation for an eternal union. What will you do about heirs?—

When Sian tried to picture his offspring—a possibility that was actually in reach—he couldn’t see anything but pups with pointed ears and demonic tempers.

Yet he knew such thinking was idiocy. “I’d never pressure Calliope to bear a dark fey. She’d probably be horrified if I brought up the prospect.” She’d reached for that contraception ring quickly enough.

—Tell her how you truly feel, even if your pride fights you.—

“I will. In time. I have this under control.”

—Of course you do. Why listen to a wise dragon like myself?— With a surly look, Uthyr licked a gash across his forepaw.

“I am sorry about your troubles, brother.”

—I’ll need to sleep this off for a couple of days.—

Sian nodded. “How are Rune and Josephine?”

—Settling in nicely, and so in love it’d be sickening if Josephine didn’t “jank” on him so much.— She took zero guff from Rune, keeping him in line with her brash attitude. —I told them you have found your mate. They plan to stop by soon to meet her.—

Which would give Sian scant time to get through to Calliope, to change a view she’d held all her life. . . .

THIRTY-NINE

Lila crossed to the terrace railing, unable to summon a flicker of worry about Abyssian’s kingdom concerns; she knew he would take care of any trespasser. Only an idiot would attempt to breach this castle.

The sea serpents had returned to frolic in the waves, their scales aglow in the setting sunlight. She’d witnessed fiery sunsets in Florida, but this was ridiculous. Feverish red and orange battled to steal the sky, the sight mind-boggling.

And I’m queen of this place. . . .

Eager to try out her new closet again, she headed back inside, replaying the way Abyssian had kissed her palm earlier. What had that look in his eyes promised?

Though they’d almost had sex, she wasn’t ready for more of that. Yet. But oral? Sign me up.

At the fireplace, she drew up short. The Lôtān head was gone.

Her gaze took in the bare stone above the hearth. The spot where the Lôtān had hung was darker than the rest. That thing must’ve resided there for eons.

Yet Abyssian had removed the sacred demonic trophy. For her.

Pang.

An existence here would be far different from her dream existence in Sylvan, but what if two beings as dissimilar as she and the demon could eke out a future together? If she could manage his moods . . .

Getting attached to him wasn’t the smartest thing she could do—not with her background—but she couldn’t just turn off her feelings, despite how little she knew about him.

I know him as well as he knows me. A sobering thought.

She meandered down the hall toward her wardrobe, but two gold doors past her own beckoned. Feeling like Bluebeard’s wife, she opened the first one. Abyssian’s dressing room.

Inside, she found pairs of his usual leather pants and boots, and a few more formal garments. Several white tunics had fastenings on the back to accommodate his wings.

Along the farthest wall, he’d organized swords and other medieval weapons, but an ax held a place of honor among the rest.

Abyssian Infernas’s legendary battle-ax.