“This place really is a little Europe,” Leela mused, glancing around at the colorful architecture and lack of skyscrapers. “It reminds me of Rome, but also the coast of France, with a splash of Barcelona and Madrid sprinkled on top.”
His lips curled. “It’s not my first choice for pancakes, but we’ll see how they do.”
“Your first choice would be in your own kitchen. Naked. With me lathered in syrup on the counter.”
“Is that a fantasy or something that’s happened?”
“A fantasy inspired by what happened in Brazil after making me pancakes one morning,” she replied, her gaze sparkling with devious intent. “One we can absolutely do once we’re back in Hydria.”
“Which reminds me, I need to call Luc.”
She nodded her chin toward the restaurant. “I’m sure you can borrow a phone from someone inside.”
He grinned. “Are you asking me to seduce a phone off a patron?”
She considered him for a moment, then looked inside at the waiters before taking in the various patrons. “Hmm, only if I’m allowed to choose.”
“What happens when I win?”
“I’ll let you decide if he or she can join us for dessert.”
He already knew he wouldn’t be inviting anyone here to bed other than Leela. “How about I win my choice of positions for dessert instead.”
Her lips curled. “Not in the mood for a third?”
“You’re the only one I’m craving for dessert, vixen.” The admission rolled off his tongue, the statement one he’d never said to another person before.
Her expression softened, her eyes losing some of the teasing glint. “Keep saying things like that and you won’t need to win a game to pick a position.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “But games are how we thrive.”
“Sensual ones.”
“Sensual ones,” he echoed, holding her gaze as he turned her hand over to place a kiss on her palm. “Did you pick a patron?” he asked against her skin.
“No,” she whispered. “Because the only appetizing item on the menu is you.”
He grinned at her twisting his words right back at him. “Hmm.” His lips parted around her finger, pulling the digit into his mouth for a little swirl with his tongue. Her pupils dilated in response, a soft shudder of breath infiltrating the air.
“You’re making me want to skip right to…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing as a hum of electricity teased the atmosphere around them. “Shit.”
She reached for him, but the vibration knocked her back into the chair. He leapt forward, his hands finding her shoulders. “Mist.”
“I can’t,” she gritted out, her mind telling him some sort of ethereal net had bound her ability to sprout wings.
“How do I remove it?” His hands ran over her arms, feeling nothing but soft skin. “How do I free you?”
“You can’t,” a familiar voice said to his left as an auburn-haired woman with ebony eyes approached. She was the spitting image of a dream. A memory he once reminisced about with a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy.
He’d blamed himself for her death.
Because it’d been his blood that she’d imbibed.
Yet here she stood, fucking smiling at him as though they were long-lost lovers.
He slowly straightened his spine and placed himself behind Leela, his back to her while he faced the approaching woman.
“Balthazar,” Nythos purred, her voice exactly as he remembered it. All sultry sensuality, which he now knew came from her father’s lineage.
