“Sorceress, in these last few weeks, I’ve seen crazy. I’ve lived it.”
No kidding. “What if I told you that we were well acquainted with each other? But you were bespelled to forget me?”
She debated telling him upfront that they were married (oh, and having a kid!), but decided against it. She didn’t want him to believe she was a lock, didn’t want him complacent. For now, she needed him to ache for her—as badly as she did for him.
“I don’t see how I could ever forget you. Lanthe, I believe that you are my mate.” He eased even closer to her. “You don’t look surprised by this news?”
She shook her head. “Before Morgana destroyed your kingdom, she erased all your memories of me.” Voice going throaty, Lanthe said, “But, Thronos, we knew each other.”
He was in disbelief. “I’ve known you?” As if testing the waters, he tentatively smoothed her hair behind her ear, his hand trailing down to her face . . . to her neck . . . to her collarbone . . .
When she didn’t stop him, in fact arched to his touch, a shocked breath escaped him.
Puh.
“That’s right, Thronos. I want to make you remember that and everything else. Because our story is epic.”
“How is this possible? It would explain so much. . . .” He swallowed thickly, as if he were starting to believe—to hope. “How would you restore my memory? Understand me, sorceress: I can’t express how fiercely I covet these memories. How I covet you.”
She laid her palm on his chest; his heart thundered. “I’ll need to use my sorcery on you.” It radiated from her palms. “Can you trust me to make this right?”
Ever brave, he squared his shoulders. “Do as you will, Lanthe. I’ve nothing to lose.”
She shook away any thoughts about her on-the-fritz power or her sorcery limitations. Yes, Morgana was stronger. Yes, the queen had packed one hell of a persuasive punch.
But love would triumph.
Right?
Lanthe pressed her alight palm over his chest as she commanded, “Remember me, Thronos. Remember.” Her sorcery burned brighter, coiling around them, through them. “Remember.”
The air grew warmer. Subtle tremors rippled beneath their feet. Floating drops of water began to rocket in haphazard directions. “Remember me.” Her voice sounded altered, vibrating with power.
Sadness seeped into his expression. “I . . . don’t.”
“We’re only getting started, Vrekener. Just open your mind as much as you can.”
He got that determined look, the one she’d seen hundreds of times before, the one she couldn’t love more. “I will.”
“Remember me. Restore your memories. Shake off what Morgana did to you.” To us.
When he still evinced no recognition, she bit her lip, deciding to reveal more of their past. “Do you feel the need to enclose us in your wings?”
“Overwhelmingly. But I don’t want to scare you.”
“You don’t.”
Again, as if he were testing the waters, he gradually wrapped his wings around her, enfolding them both completely. His pulselines were lighting like crazy. Her poor Vrekener must be a bewildered mix of nerves and anticipation. “Thronos, when we’re like this, we tell each other secrets. Do you want to know some?”
He nodded.
“We were best friends as children,” she told him. “Just as we are now.”
“Friends?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “But we’re so much more. You love me. And I love you.”
“You? Love me?”
“Wildly. Madly.” Maybe a kiss would remind him. Maybe she needed to spur his body as much as his mind. She rose on her toes, cupping his face between her glowing hands, drawing him to her. Within his wings, her iridescent sorcery lit his eyes, joining his surreal pulselines. “Can I kiss you?”
His brows drew tight. “By all the gods, yes.”
Just as he had kissed her after those time loops—so she would kiss him.
A claiming kiss.
A no-going-back kiss.
He went motionless as she brushed her lips over his, once and again. When she slanted her mouth across his, he parted his lips.
She deepened the contact, slipping in her tongue to tease his. He met her with a groan, and she grew encouraged—as if he’d conceded far more than a kiss.
He began one of his slow-build love affairs with her mouth, sensuously licking her until her eyes slid shut.
Her hands shook on his face as their tongues slowly twined. His arms wrapped around her. He palmed the back of her head with one hand, his other dipping toward her ass, as if he couldn’t help himself. His wings tightened around her back even more, squeezing her closer.
Once they were sharing breaths, she drew back to whisper against his lips, “Remember me, love.” The ground tremors intensified, until even the immense trees shuddered. She felt like a sorcery reactor, stronger than she’d ever been.
Because I’ve never wanted anything like I want him.
“Remember”—she commanded between seeking kisses—“Thronos, please, remember me. I’m waiting for you. Remember, remember, REMEMBER!” Sorcery blasted from her to him.
Breathless, she drew back.
His eyes were heavy-lidded, vivid silver. Flickering remnants of blue light sparked around them.
“Anything?”
He shook his head. “Though I’d like to repeat this process to be sure.” He tenderly brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “Shall we try again, lamb?”
He frowned; she beamed.
Voice roughened, he murmured, “I . . . smell magics on you?”
Her eyes misted again. “Those were the first words you ever said to me.”
His brow creased as he clearly recollected. “I remember you!” Recognition flared in his gaze. “My Lanthe.” As they had so long ago, his eyes told her, I’ve been pretty much lost without you.
“Um, there’s a part in the middle. . . .”
“I’ve already skipped past it,” he told her. “We don’t dwell on things that have no consequence, and I’m not one to squander my golden”—he kissed her forehead—“coins.”
She grinned up at him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I never would’ve given up.”
“I love you, Lanthe. I knew it before, was going to tell you that night . . .” He trailed off. “And you love me too?”
“I do. I love us together. I want you back.”
“I’m here.” His smile was glorious. “You’re right. Our story is epic.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling—
His muscles went tense. “Wait. I’m to be a father?” His wings fluttered open—as if they were stunned. “We’re having a baby?”
“What were the odds, huh?” she asked wryly. “Now we’ll be an army of three. And I have it on good authority that we can handle this.”
He swooped her up, spinning her around. Then he slowed, his face falling. He set her back on her feet, his hand dipping to her belly. “I have nothing to offer you. You—and our babe.” His hand shook over her as he said those words. “I have no kingdom. No home. What would you want with a displaced king and faction, living on borrowed time in a mortal forest?”
“Our faction could live here in Pandemonia. You felt something for this realm, I know you did.”
“It’s true. But the land is rife with danger.”
“Because of the demon hordes?” She waved that away, tugging her necklace up. “Don’t forget that I’m the Keeper of Keys and you’re the Reader of Words. We’ll open both gates and air this place out a bit. Oh, oh, I can speak Dragon now! So we could negotiate some kind of treaty with them—we might have to offer them a hottie Rothkalinan dragoness, but that’s okay.” Lanthe walked her fingers up his chest. “I’m not saying we, like, own Pandemonia. But I’m not not saying that either.”
He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You’d live with me here?”
“Of course! I’d rather live in hell with you than in heaven without you.”
“The Vrekeners will think we’re mad.”
“I believe they’ll feel a pull to this place, just like you did. In any case, we’ll convince them. I know it’s a bit of a fixer-upper”—she motioned around her—“in need of Vrekener TLC. But it’s nothing that a bucket of paint and some lava dams can’t spruce up!” She stood on her toes, wanting more of his kiss. “We’ve got this, Thronos.”
He leaned in, his eyes telling her he was about to kiss her till her toes curled. Just before his lips met hers, he rasped, “If my mate has her heart set on Pandemonia, who am I to deny her?”
FIFTY-EIGHT
What if there’s an even better place than the demon valley?” Thronos asked, his voice roughened from his many bellows to the proverbial rafters. After Lanthe had healed his old injuries once more, he’d made love to her until well after the sun had gone down. Now they lay within the cocoon of his wings, telling secrets. “What if we were to lead the Vrekeners to something even greater?”
“What do you mean?” She stroked the backs of her fingers over one of his cheeks.
“I keep thinking about one of the paths here: The Long Way. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Then it must mean something,” Lanthe said, excitement filling her. “Let’s go see what awaits us at the end!”
He cupped her face. “Exactly my thoughts.”
After dressing, they set off hand in hand into the night. They stepped upon The Long Way—which was anything but straight and narrow.
Together, they followed its many twists and turns.
With each league away from the fuming lava and the miasma of the swamp, the air grew cleaner. The sun was beginning its long, slow rise when their army of two (soon to be three) arrived at a lush plain. In the center was a colossal gray-stone mountain wreathed in white clouds and moonrakers. A babbling brook meandered around the trunks.
The temperature was cooler here, the morning sun brighter.
The sky was a dazzling violet.
“Oh, my gold,” Lanthe whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”
Gaze still on her, he said, “Beautiful.”
She grinned. “And what do you think about the mountain?”
Thronos turned to take it in, canting his head.
Lanthe saw his chest bow, as if it were filled with too much emotion to be contained.
He tugged her back against his front, draping a possessive arm over her. “It smells like you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She sank into him, luxuriating in his warmth. “How’s that?”
Pressing a kiss into her hair, Thronos murmured, “It smells like sky. And home. . . .”