The Ippos King (Wraith Kings, #3)

by Grace Draven

He studied her as she studied him, her lamplight eyes bright in the darkness, the emotions there hidden in depths of numerous citrine shades. “And beauty is a quality defined by more than appearance,” he said softly.

“You are truly the most beautiful woman I've ever beheld.” Perched on the edge of sleep, she wondered if she imagined Serovek's compliment. She didn't bother to open her eyes. “I don't understand why you think so,” she mumbled. His voice caressed her, body and soul. “And I don't understand why you do not.”

“Anhuset.” Serovek crooked a finger and she leaned closer, admiring his long dark lashes and the swoop of his eyebrows. His mouth beckoned her despite its bruising and the remnants of blood in its corners. “Be careful. I don't want to lose you.” The words sent a bolt through her. Words not of lust or teasing but of deep affection for her, of fear for her. Anhuset almost replied she wasn't his to lose, but that was no longer true. She, who'd never subscribed to delicacy of any type, stroked Serovek's swollen face in a delicate caress. “Worry not. I'll take care and return soon.”

He retreated from the wall along with Tionfa and discovered Anhuset nearly standing on his heels. “What do you want me to do?” she said. I want you to become my wife and share my bed for the rest of our lives.

“Rodan has always coveted him. He's out of a mare from Nadiza's lightning herd. The king doesn't get my stallion as a bonus.” “He shouldn't be getting my stallion either.” She glared at him as if he were the one who instigated all of this. A euphoric swoop of joy at her words bottomed out his stomach. He considered pulling her into his arms a second time but as that glare turned even hotter, he thought better of it. “So I'm yours now?”

Her mouth softened, and for the span of a breath, she leaned into him. “We live for those we love,” she told him in bast-Kai. “We die for those we love. This is a privilege, Serovek, not a sacrifice.”