Page 24 of A Kiss of Flame
“We were a formidable pair,” she said, keeping her tone light. “When we got along.” Barith laughed, his pants audibly hitting the settee. She forced herself not to peek.
“Do ye remember when we snuck into that fae party and faked a row so Sirus could help that High Fae Lady escape?” he asked.
Levian snorted. “I don’t think Sirus was helping her escape,” she corrected. “I think Sirus and the Lady were having an affair. If you recall, she showed back up looking a touch rumpled.”
“No,” Barith said, shocked, clearly trying to recall the details.
“I’m fairly certain,” Levian insisted as she slid on her bikini. She suspected Sirus’s affair had ended abruptly that night. Not that Sirus had seemed bothered over it or had ever mentioned it.
“I knew he had lovers, but a High Fae?” The dragon grunted in surprise.
Levian cinched her robe and stepped out from behind the screen to find Barith standing in the swim shorts—they hugged his rippled thighs and hung low on his hips. He was so very broad and deeply muscled. His thick chest hair trailed down his ridged stomach before it disappeared beneath the line of his shorts. Barith’s tail lingered behind him, swishing casually back and forth.
She’d seen him similarly under-clothed only days before back in the bathhouse in Berlin, but somehow, he was even more appealing in those little shorts. It was irritating how her body betrayed her and throbbed with arousal.
Feeling a touch vindictive over her visceral reaction, Levian sauntered closer with devilish intent. “Turn around,” she ordered.
“Why?” he growled, though he did as she requested. “Is it too big or too small?”
It was perfect—snug enough to hug his round ass. She mostly wanted to see if a particular fun fact about the dragon still held true. “Stop,” she ordered when his back was to her.
“What is it? My tail fit?”
Levian lifted her finger, coiled with magick, and ran it down his lower back, stroking the top part of his tail. Barith shuddered, his back rippling. “That—is no’ fair,” he ground out darkly.
Levian laughed. “I think it is, darling. All’s fair in love and war, and I will win.”
He turned, his eyes brimming with fire. “You’re not the only one with tricks,” he growled, leaning down. “And if you’re going to play dirty, so am I.”
The mage’s heart fluttered with anticipation at the threat, though she merely rolled her eyes, glided over to the thick velvet rope next to the door, and gave it a good tug to let Sil know they were ready. “Please,” she purred, hoping to get under his skin. “Like any of your moves would work on me. I’ve seen them all, remember?”
Chapter Seven
Challenge accepted.
Levian could do her worst, but Barith was determined to win their bet before the night was through.
He followed the mage as Sil led them into a large common room. Kamár was lavish and indulgent, exactly as he’d expected such an exclusive sanctum of pleasure to be. Although Barith knew they were underground, the room was enchanted with walls that gave the illusion of being open to a twilight sky set high atop one of the mountains of Li’tha, home of the Summer Fae. A magickal breeze swept through, rustling sheer curtains carrying a warm floral scent. The dark marble and rich textiles added to the allure and intoxicated the senses. It was an impressive bit of magick. Even Barith felt compelled to relax despite knowing they were well below ground.
Creatures of all sorts were milling about or lounging over giant lush pillows and decadent couches—some napping, a few canoodling, most chatting and drinking.
When Levian and Barith entered, all heads seemed to turn on them. The mage wasn’t wholly infamous, but she was well enough known thanks to her lineage. And Barith—well, he wasa dragon. A dragon dressed in nothing but a wee pair of swim shorts, whose red and gold scaled tail swayed behind him.
“The pools are through here,” Sil told them, gesturing to an archway on the other side of the large round room before leading the way.
Barith leaned down to whisper into Levian’s ear. “I doubt this was the only way there.”
Levian took his arm. “I told you they’d want to show you off,” she whispered back.
As they passed through the crowd, several pairs of eyes remained glued to them, including those belonging to a few familiar faces. Levian exchanged pleasantries with a couple of half-fae females she knew before telling them she would love to catch up more but was anxious to get Barith to the pool.
“I can’t blame you,” one of the ladies replied as she ran her gaze over him like he were a tempting snack she wished to sink her teeth into.
Over a dozen pairs of eyes stayed glued to his backside as Sil led them through the archway and into an atrium on the far side of the common space. A massive marble fountain sat in the center, with a life-sized male centaur reared up on his hind legs. A naked fae female sat upon his back, one hand held tightly around the creature’s muscled waist while the other held a large pitcher that poured water into the shallow basin below. An array of deer, rabbits, and other fauna were carved around their feet.
“I am here to aid you in any way possible,” Sil reminded them with a soft smile before tapping a finger into the flowing water. It immediately parted like a pair of water curtains, spreading wide to create a magickal opening that led to a dimly lit pebbled path. Sil stepped through, and Levian looked to Barith, clearly impressed, before she let go of his arm and followed. The path wound its way through reeds and lush plants. No more were theyin the enchanted mountains of the Summer Fae, but now a lush valley of the Spring.
The room was expansive, with a few smaller pools nestled into a steep grassy hill coated in wildflowers, each flowing into the next before spilling into a larger, wider pool at the base. The air was warm, filled with the scent of fresh water and flowers. The ceiling and walls were enchanted, making it appear like they were in a wooded field during twilight, casting everything in a soft, dusky glow. Fireflies buzzed about the reeds and the soft chirp of crickets added to the ambiance. Barith fought the urge to whistle at the sight of it.