Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
A Banquet in The Void
Lyssena
Every passing day felt better than the one before it, softer and fuller in a way Lyssena had never known life could be.
Not that she truly knew how many days had passed, but by the rhythm of her sleep, by the way her body drifted into rest and woke again in his shadow-warmed bed, she guessed it had been three . . . perhaps four days.
Lyssena loved this home Erevos had created for her.
She loved its vastness, the echo of her footsteps along corridors shaped from shadow.
There were rooms filled with fabrics softer than any she had touched in her village, tables carved from darkness that shimmered when she brushed her fingertips across them, alcoves glowing with dim, atmospheric light that made the walls feel alive.
And she especially adored the bathing chamber.
Steam curled thick and silver through the air as she removed her beautiful gown, letting the fabric whisper down her body before she folded it carefully and rested it atop a smooth, warm rock near the water’s edge.
The air kissed her bare skin at once, and she inhaled deeply, feeling the heat cling to her breasts, her hips, her thighs.
Lyssena was proud of her full figure, and now that she had been intimate with Erevos, she found herself swaying her hips as she walked toward the water.
She felt free within herself, even bare, even so exposed.
That, more than anything, was a miracle.
“You do not have to wear anything at all,” Erevos said from behind her, his voice low and smooth as he moved toward her, the sound of water already responding to his presence.
At that, she smiled widely. Did he know he was flirting with her?
“Would you prefer that I never wear anything at all?” she asked, turning her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder before taking his hand, her fingers curling between his, and slowly stepping into the warm, waiting water.
It welcomed her at once, silk-smooth and steaming, sliding along her ankles, her calves, and her thighs. She exhaled as it rose higher, enveloping her sore muscles, easing the tender ache between her legs.
How divine it felt to sink into that heated embrace after everything they had done.
Her body was sore in every possible place—her thighs, her hips, her lower lips—and all she wanted was to soak until her fingers wrinkled and her mind went blissfully blank, to lean back against her Erevos and let him hold her there.
Her Erevos. Who was now her husband.
Perhaps not in the traditional human way, without temple leaders or vows or witnesses, but husband through and through.
Erevos moved through the inky water toward her, the dark liquid parting around his powerful body as though eager to please him. The pond was not deep—it reached just below her breasts—and she was grateful that she was tall enough not to feel swallowed by it.
She looked up at him and smiled, the steam dampening her lashes.
At once, Erevos returned his own version of a smile, the baring of sharp teeth that once terrified her.
Now she found it adorable and very much kissable.
He gathered a pool of the inky water into his hands, the liquid seeming thicker in his palms, and slowly poured it over her shoulder. The heat cascaded down her skin, sliding over her collarbone, between her breasts, and she could not help the soft sound that escaped her.
“What is that?” he asked as he gathered more water and let it spill over her other shoulder.
“What is what?” she murmured, eyes half-lidded as the warmth soaked deeper into her muscles.
“That sound,” he clarified. “You made it when we mated.”
Another thing she liked so much about Erevos was his curiosity, the way he studied her as though she were the most fascinating creature in existence, worthy of observation and understanding.
It felt selfish to enjoy that attention so thoroughly, to bask in it as though it were sunlight, but she could not help herself.
Besides, she enjoyed teaching him what she knew, even when her knowledge was laughably small compared to the vast, ancient one he had.
In her village, Lyssena had never been allowed to correct anyone. Certainly not to teach someone older than herself.
When her father misspoke, she swallowed the correction. When her brothers misbehaved, she had endured it in silence because a man knew better, because a woman’s place was beneath and behind.
Standing there now, naked in a demon’s bathing chamber, explaining pleasure to a being older than realms, she realized how absurd it all was.
It had been a towering pile of boar shit.
“It is called a moan,” she said, taking his hand into hers, their fingers tangling as warmth swirled around them. “It is a sound of pleasure. Sometimes the body makes it when the feeling is too much to contain.”
“I have never moaned,” Erevos replied, studying their joined hands. “Yet I have felt pleasure.”
She smiled. “You do not make many noises at all,” she teased. “Oh, but you growl.”
Humans hummed and clicked their tongues, screamed and wailed, laughed loudly, and wept louder still. They were creatures of sound and expression.
Erevos, on the other hand, spoke . . . and he growled.
“I never growled before meeting you,” he said.
Lyssena hummed thoughtfully at that. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one changing.
She found that she enjoyed learning Erevos. Not merely his body, though she certainly enjoyed that as well, but the subtleties of him, the strange, unexpected moments that made something ancient and otherworldly feel almost . . . human.
She would never forget the way he had lounged across the princess’s bed, long limbs sprawled in a posture so scandalous it would have sent half her village into hysterics, entirely oblivious to how indecent he appeared.
The memory tugged a smile from her lips, there in the steaming water. But her smile faded as she realized she had asked him so little about himself.
Since arriving in his realm, she had spoken of her village, her fears, her aches, her customs, her body, and he had listened, endlessly patient, endlessly curious, as though every small detail she offered was a treasure worth studying.
Yet she had rarely turned that same curiosity toward him.
She had made everything about herself.
The thought pricked at her chest. There, with steam curling around her shoulders and Erevos’s large hand still entwined with hers, Lyssena decided that she wanted to do something for him.
He had built her a home from shadow and will, and had warmed water for her without being asked.
Oh, she loved planning things.
The realization sent a spark of excitement dancing through her, warming her more than the bath ever could.
She had always been the one to imagine festivals larger than the harvest warranted, to suggest ribbons where none were necessary, to arrange flowers simply because they were beautiful.
Her mother used to sigh at her dramatics.
But here? Here, there was no one to tell her she was too much.
She could plan anything from a small, intimate banquet lit by floating orbs to an entire day devoted to the two of them, filled with whatever delights she could devise.
She could decorate the main hall with fabrics in deep jewel tones, drape garlands along the darkened walls, scatter cushions across the floor so he might recline as he pleased.
Perhaps she could even craft something by hand.
A garment, a token, something beautiful that would belong solely to him.
Oh, there was so much she could do.
Her mind whirled with possibilities, images layering over one another in a rainbow of black and imagination.
Although . . . She did not know where the shops were in this place. In fact, she did not know if there were shops at all.
She had not seen taverns, nor merchants, nor market stalls brimming with fabric and fruit and chatter. This realm did not echo with bargaining voices or clinking mugs.
Did gods even require such things?
She glanced at Erevos through the drifting steam, studying the broad line of his shoulders, the shadows that curled toward him.
She knew he never ate. Because . . . well, he was a god.
And why would gods eat?
Perhaps demons did, but she had never seen him consume anything. Not fruit, not water, not even a bite of bread or meat. As far as she knew, he simply existed.
“Tell me,” she said, swaying their joined hands left and right above the surface of the water, watching the dark liquid ripple around their fingers. “Is there a place . . . to buy things here?”
“There is,” he replied, drawing Lyssena closer until her body was flush against his. “There is a market in The Void.”
The sentence alone sent a thrill down her spine.
Looking up at him now, she found herself pressed fully against his torso, her breasts brushing the firm plane of him, the heat of his body radiating through the thin barrier of water. The waves around them responded to his movement, rising and curling.
“And . . . ” she continued as she traced the tip of her finger over the defined lines of his abdomen, following the ridges of muscle. “How did you pay when you went there last time?”
His shadows stirred at her touch.