Page 29 of Ravenous

“And you?” she asked after a moment, gazing up at Ink from under her thick auburn lashes. “Always lived in Grimrock?”

“Yes.” He pictured the jagged peaks, endless quarries, and remarkable temples of his home territory. “Most incubi, stone, and rage demons make their home there.” The remaining demon breeds roiled in neighboring Rhun.

“You can only trace to places you’ve already been,” she said thoughtfully. “So when were you in this area before?”

He’d teleported them far enough away so that they didn’t land in lava should the river have shifted course over the ages. “My sire brought me,” Ink said. “As a lesson.”

That memory still tasted of smoke and fear, yet he wished he could go back to that time. His father would be dead less than a year later.

After demons had carved out a rich region from the All-Battle, they’d continued fighting for centuries in the old Ruin and Stone Wars. Father had fallen in a blood-soaked field between two emerging demon territories.

“As a lesson?” Nadje said.

“That this is where immortals come to die—or to do cowardly murder.”

“I’ve heard the tales. They say the river’s haunted by all who perished here.”

He nodded. “Any immortal who’s lost a mate can find deathly solace in those depths.” But then, more than one gullible immortal had been shoved in as they’d gazed into its flames. “Did you consider pushing me in?” he asked.

“And lose my ride home?”

“Vampires can’t lie, so they often answer questions with questions.” Now that she seemed so apparent to him, he wondered how she’d managed to dupe him in bed.

She only smirked, scanning the gloom with one hand on her sword hilt. She readied for threats but also likely for prey. Nadje was a predator; she couldn’t turn off her drives, no more than he could turn off his appreciation for certain females. A buxom beauty’s pleasure was his favorite meal.

Yet he hadn’t fed since her, too confused by their bed play. Over these days away, he’d begun to find the memory of being with her less distasteful and more…tasty.

Nadje’s mouthwatering profile caught his attention when she twisted her long hair into a knot. She swiped her perspiring nape, large breasts rising in her dampened shirt. Her stiffened nipples pressed against the fabric, and he couldn’t stop recalling how sweet and salty those tips had been.

Broiling hot, sweaty redhead.At the thought of such a meal, his demon tongue darted in his mouth. He would lick the dampness from every inch of her, all around those pendulous breasts down to her sodden copper curls.

His cock surged in his pants, and his stomach growled. Unbidden words left his lips: “Why did you cry when we had intercourse?” He had to know! Her tears had stripped something raw inside him, left him unarmored.

“When you used me, you mean? Because pleasure had turned to pain. Asyou intended. I imagine most females would do anything for relief, telling you whatever you wanted to know.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But you didn’t.”

“And you didn’t like that at all, did you?” she replied, her tone cool and calm. But her pulse beat at her throat.

He remembered that pulse against his tongue.

She caught his gaze focused on her neck. “Look, if we’re going to be partners, we stay professional. Better for business that way. Plus, I don’t want to get any closer to three times with you.Thrice in one’s arms, forever enslaved,” she said, repeating the lore. “I’ve seen the mindless sex slaves you incubi make. I don’t even like you, and I still crave you—after just one time.”

Same.Unfortunately. “I’ve never made a thrall, and I’ve no interest in trapping you thus.”

“What if I hadn’t told you things that night? Would you have risked a second time?”

“I would have brought you bliss,” he said, “without penetration.”

“Oh, nice. Good to know you had a plan, pleasure reaper.”

Heat breathed from the river, thickening the tension between them. The air grew searing, gusts flinging cinders that clung to their skin, drawn as if to blood.

They reached the banks, close enough to feel their eyelashes crisping. The crimson surface churned like a living wound.

“We’re meant to extract lava from this?” Ink said hoarsely.

“Yes. The staff and bowl are heatproof, even against this temperature.”