Not only that, he’d warned her that he liked challenge and variety. He’d point-blank told her he intended to keep a queen and a harem. That’d been last night.
Her eyes widened. He hadn’t been speaking hypothetically! He’d known she was his mate from the start, so he’d been referencing her as the queen in question.
She’d been so confident when she told him that hell would freeze over before she became one among his other females. As of today, he might have put her into the rotation. He could be in the Tower of Lusts with one—or more—of them right now.
Inhaling a deep breath, she rolled up the page and returned the ribbon. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Having never felt jealousy before, she had no idea how to handle it.
Be logical, Lila. But logic backed up her conclusions! How many warrior kings would go without heirs? Why would Abyssian stop seeing professional lovers who kept him “very satisfied” and catered to his “every filthy desire”?
He had a freaking tower in his castle devoted to lust!
His dynasty did await, and once he lost his seal with Lila, he could—as he’d put it—plant his seed in every field but a fey’s. Her field. Again, he’d known she was his at the time.
She imagined him having young with those twelve females and grew queasy. Abyssian would never let her sleep with another male, much less have a baby with one. Would she be forced to live in a castle with all her husband’s children—and none of her own?
Fuck that. The need to lash out at him burned inside her. Perhaps she could use her newly discovered power over him. . . .
You can look, demon, but you can’t touch.
She hastened to her dressing room. The closet produced one brazenly sexy dress after another.
She settled on a scandalous number, a backless ruby-red gown with a halter top. The material of the halter was no mere silk. . . .
After bathing, she drew on black hose and red garters, then slipped on the gown. She wore her hair up. He seemed to love nuzzling her ears, so she accentuated them with dangling onyx earrings.
What would he think?
Half an hour later, he appeared in the bedroom, freshly showered and formally dressed.
She purred, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
His sharp exhalation was worth any embarrassment.
FORTY
My mate has discovered her wiles, Sian thought as he surveyed her at the dinner table.
From the waist up of her red dress, the material was transparent, and gods help him, her breasts were free. How was he supposed to make it through this meal?
Seated to his right, she sipped her wine, gazing around the room with an air of boredom. She’d barely touched her plate.
She was angry with him, but he had no idea what could’ve happened in the interval between when he’d left and when he’d returned.
How easily she could shut him out. He could stand it no longer. “My compliments, Calliope. You found a gown sure to please your husband.”
She leveled her gaze on him. “My husband seemed so enamored of my breasts that I displayed them to their best advantage.”
“My clever wife is displaying my dessert.”
She arched her brows. “You assume an after-dinner treat is being offered?”
“Another advantage to your dress—I can see your treats responding to me. They want me to savor them.” A flush spread over her chest.
Yet more signs of her arousal. As if he wasn’t aware of how aroused she’d grown! He could detect the mouthwatering scent of her need. He doubted she wore panties.
He imagined tossing her on the table, shoving up her skirts, and feeding his length inside her. She’d be so wet and tight for him. . . .
“I’m still getting used to my new immortality and its effects. At this point, I’m as discerning as an alley cat.”
Which was the only reason she’d responded to him during their encounters. For just a short amount of time—a couple of godsdamned hours—he’d forgotten his looks.
She added, “But I’ve gotten a handle on my need. You won’t have to worry about ‘tending’ to me ever again.”
“So that’s it? I got to share pleasure with my wife twice?” He shook his head. “The signals I get from you baffle me—yet you called me moody? As ever, you burn hot and cold. My tolerance for it hasn’t improved over the last millennia.”
“Kari burned hot and cold.”
“You were hot when keen to get my secrets, then cold as ice afterward. You shut down your emotions utterly. I’d never seen anything so unsettling.” When he’d offered up his most dear sacrifice to her, she’d coldly given him her back.
As blood ran down his face, he’d willed her to turn around and see him. To comprehend that he would do anything for her. Turn around, Kari. Look at me. . . .
He gritted his teeth, shoving aside that memory.
Calliope said, “Fey have that talent.”
“Talent? You mean curse.” He swigged demon brew. “I’m used to hot and cold from you—but never at the same time. That dress does not fit with your sudden bout of pique.”
“You continue to bring up the past, but you’d have me believe you’ve let go of your revenge?”
“My vengeance against you is done. And I am trying to keep my mind from the past. There is a memory, a haunting one that tries to surface. . . . I turn from it every time.”
“Why?”
Because it will make me hate you anew. “As you said, I want to look to the future instead.”
“You want to, but you don’t.”
“For ten thousand years, I was one way. For a couple of days, I’ve been another. I’m a very old demon unused to change.”
“Oh, I believe that more and more,” she said. “Speaking of which, did you visit your concubines earlier?”
Concubines? What other surprising subjects did she ponder when he was barred from her thoughts? He steepled his fingers. “Would that bother you?” Say yes. . . .
“All monarchs have them. And you did warn me.”