“Only if you claim me back.” Bel had always willfully misunderstood the Sintan Hoi Polloi tradition. Claiming had never beenYou’re mine, it was alwaysI’m yours, but his people’s custom was only as good as law if they both said the words.
She nodded, sliding her hands up his chest and touching his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”
It was clear she teased, but a warning growl still rumbled in Carver’s chest as he lowered his head for a long, slow melding of lips that quickly turned into fiery, hungry, soul-deep kissesthat tangled every part of their mouths. His entire awareness narrowed to the woman in his arms. Bel pressed against him, moving restlessly but careful never to slip her hands around his back. All he wanted was to strip her naked and push inside her, but he doubted she was ready for that, and neither was he. Most of his body right now was a throbbing mix of pain and pleasure, which seemed fitting for anything involving Bel.
He kissed her until her heat flooded him and her breath became his. “You’re my delight and my torment,” he gruffly admitted. “I can’t remember a day that wasn’t true.”
Drawing back, her brow creasing, she asked, “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s what kept me locked to your side.”
“You’ll still want me if I torment you?”
A low laugh rumbled out of him. “I’m pretty sure I’ll want you more.”
Bel looked uncertain of that, her frown deepening. “I never imagined wanting to be touched. Now I can’t seem to get enough. I want more.”
Victory chimed inside him again, and he smiled. “I vow to touch you in places you never even dreamed of.” He kissed her neck to her shoulder, tasting hot cherry magic with hints of baked sugar and almond cream. “If you’d smelled like this in Thalyria, you would’ve driven me insane.” Gripping her hips, he swirled his tongue against her skin.
“Oh.” She exhaled sharply, going slack in his arms. Carver propped her back up, securing her with his body. Her breath jumped in and out, her shimmering eyes soft and heavy-lidded now. He nuzzled her earlobe. “Why insane?” she breathed out.
“Because for some reason, I thought we were just friends who liked to rile each other up.” He kissed her again, a bone-deep rightness saturating his soul. “I was a fool.”
“Friends who collide like flint on steel?”
“See how long we’ve been making sparks?” Grinning, he threaded his fingers through her softly glowing hair and smoothed it back. “From the very beginning, you couldn’t leave me alone.”
Her expression soured. “I think it was reciprocal.”
He chuckled. “I think you’re right.”
Bel didn’t manage that pinched look for long. Warmth shone from her—more than magic. It made his heart pound. “Everything feels so different now,” she murmured, leaning into his touch.
“Everything finally feels like it should.” Lowering his head, he sought out her lips again, coaxed them open, and swept his tongue into her mouth. Bel barely hesitated before reciprocating with a fiery moan. He held her close, the heady feel of her in his arms a feast for his senses after starving for so long. Arousal built in hot, hungry leaps, and he groaned, the taste of her as delectable and enthralling as her scent. She melted into him, their embrace an effortless give-and-take now, and he only had one coherent thought. Bel’s searing kisses had just become his new addiction. He’d drink them down for life, die happy, and then do it all over again in the Underworld.
“I see things are progressing in Atlantis,” a dry voice suddenly announced, startling them apart.
Chapter 18
Bellanca’s already pounding heart nearly exploded in surprise while Carver whirled, keeping her behind him. He sucked in a pained breath, and she peered over his shoulder, careful not to put pressure on his injuries. Her alarm disappeared, replaced by a different type of concern and a good bit of curiosity. Why was Persephone in their living room?
“Persephone.” Carver nodded to the Queen of the Underworld. The goddess arched a perfectly sculpted brow in acknowledgment, her mouth puckering in what might’ve been a smile. It might also have been a frown.
Bellanca stepped forward to stand beside Carver. Their hands touched, his knuckles brushing her wrist. The physical connection she’d avoided for so long gave her the courage to ask the question that constantly burned in her mind with no one to answer it. “Is everything all right back home?”
Persephone waved a hand in the air, her skin glittering in a way that reminded Bellanca of the flecks of mineral in marble. “Fine—for now. Everyone you care about is in good health and thriving.”
Carver’s relief must’ve matched hers because they both sagged a little as the tension left their bodies. “Good. Thank you.” Bellanca wanted to ask a hundred questions, but she doubted Persephone was there to catch them up on friends and family. She cleared her throat of the sudden lump there. Timehad helped blur the ache of missing the people she’d left behind, but hearing about them brought losing them into such sharp focus again that tears tried to sting her eyes.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Carver’s voice stayed smooth enough but there was no mistaking the wariness in it. Persephone had just shown up after six months of absence, and they had no idea why. They finally knew where the Shard of Olympus was, so unless Persephone was here to snatch Cleito back from Hera, the only thing they really needed from her was to heal Carver.
Persephone’s blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Barely a year at court in Thalyria and yet such a natural at diplomatic games.” Her fathomless gaze shifted to Bellanca. “Smart of you to want him as your advisor.”
Bellanca’s back stiffened. The fact that Olympians could be so all-knowing never failed to send a chill down her spine. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you tend to arrive with news that doesn’t make anyone happy.”
The goddess’s wind-chime laughter floated across the room, sharp and cool but still achingly beautiful. “And there’s the blunt end of this sword.” Her smile was as sharp, cool, and beautiful as her laughter, though Bellanca didn’t appreciate it blooming at her expense. “Perhaps I should visit in times of peace. My reputation might improve.”
“You’re welcome here anytime,” Carver said—ever the peacekeeper with anyone except for her.
