The thing is, what kind are you? A minor god, a demi-god, a fallen soldier running from celestial conscription?’
‘A little bit of this and that.’
‘So I’m sleeping with a deity?’
‘Isn’t it divine?’ he grinned wickedly.
As he shot her a rakish smile, his soul surged with emotion.
He was falling for her, plummeting into an abyss of devotion.
However, the words of his traitorous father echoed in the corners of his mind.
The older man had foreseen Sheba. He’d mentioned a shared destiny, a path that led through the very tether binding their souls.
The name Molan too teased the edges of his consciousness as he tried to remember where he had heard it, raking his memories.
He soon recalled that Molan was indeed a Sacran who, as a child, fell from Sivania with his shamed mother.
Was it a mere coincidence that this appellation surfaced now?
Even more suspicion coiled in his gut.
Was Sheba’s presence in his life a genuine chance at love, or was she yet another manipulation by the fallen god to entice him into a scheme of celestial proportions?
A sudden rumble from Sheba’s stomach interrupted his thoughts.
‘Hungry, ay?’ Idan teased as he glanced down at her.
‘I am always hungry,’ Sheba declared with a defiant tilt of her chin. ‘It must be the mountain air.’
‘Nada, ‘tis my loving that got you ravenous asfokk,’ he rasped.
He leaned in and pressed a deep, possessive kiss to her lips, leaving her panting and flushed.
Tucking his dark thoughts away for a later hour, Idan rose from the bed of pelts, his naked, sinewed form glowing in the firelight, as he proceeded to prepare a meal to feed his woman.
The storm enveloped the mountain for days, but inside the timber walls of Idan’s hut, time dissolved into a blur of sensual passion and explosion.
The snow-locked seclusion intensified the raw wantonness of their connection.
They made love with unceasing fever, their desire for each other never waning.
Sheba surrendered to the incandescence of Idan’s ability to drive her wild, lost in wonder as the golden tether to his soul tightened with every moan, gasp, and kiss they shared.
In between their sensualfokking, they took long baths in Idan’s mini pool tub hewn out of the rock of the mountain.
He’d start by filling it with heated water from the geothermal depths of the mountain below.
Sheba stepped into the steam, and he followed, his sizable hands gentle as they worked a lather of the fragrant flower soap into the tangled silk of her hair.
She paid it back, shampooing his tresses, loving the thick fall of his locks.
Growling in pleasure, he lay across her chest, sneaking in kisses they shared in between playing with suds.
The intimacy of their shared baths was more profound than the passion of the bed, feeling less like a physical act and more like a total emotional surrender.
The shared, private sensory experience invited a raw level of relaxing, distraction-free conversation and skin-to-skin trust that was unmatched.
