For the sight of her exposed like this, trusting him, offering herself to the god with no name.
He leaned closer, lowering himself until his face hovered near the heat of her, violet gaze lifting briefly to meet hers, and his knees met the floor.
She was watching him, wide-eyed. Flushed and breathing hard.
And entirelyhis.
I will be gentle, he thought as his gaze lowered back to the curls between his songbird’s legs.
His jaw tightened as he felt her scent, and his tongue glided against the back of his teeth.
None of it would be gentle; Erevos was starving.
Erevos nearly asked her what he was meant to do.
The question hovered at the edge of his thoughts, and yet here, before the soft, trembling heat of her body, he felt inexperienced in a way that both unsettled and thrilled him.
But the impulse faded as quickly as it came, because Erevos wished to discover everything all by himself.
Slowly, he opened his jaw, stretching it wider than any mortal man’s could manage, his long, thick tongue sliding forward between sharpened teeth as shadows moved around him. He did not hesitate.
He lowered himself the final inch and dragged his tongue over Lyssena’s most intimate place, over the part of her she had never shown him.
His songbird released a high, broken sound at the first slow stroke of his tongue against her skin, a sound so soft and unguarded that his shadows shuddered violently around them. His hunger flared.
He had thought her scent overwhelming.
He had believed nothing could surpass the sweetness of her devotion, the golden ache of her trust as he fed upon it. And oh, he had been wrong.
Her skin was warmer, softer than anything he had ever touched, and the taste of her made something tighten deep within him.
A growl rumbled low in his chest as he pressed closer, flattening his tongue and sliding it deeper between the folds Lyssena carried, parting her gently at first, then more firmly as instinct overtook anything else.
“Erevos!” she cried, her voice fracturing into breath and need as his tongue brushed over a small swell hidden between her folds. He felt it beneath the broad stroke of his tongue.
What was it? He did not know.
But he knew it made her tremble, he knew it made her say his name.
For the first time, she called him like that, and the sound fed him more fiercely than devotion ever had.
A dark, possessive pride unfurled inside him, and he circled the small swell again, slower, testing the pressure, watching the way her thighs quivered, the way her hips lifted helplessly toward his mouth as though her body itself begged for more.
He was intoxicated by everything. The heat of her against his tongue, the wetness growing with each stroke, the scent thickening in the air until it clung to him like a second skin.
The more he tasted her, the wetter his Lyssena became.
Her arousal coated his mouth, smeared along his chin, and glistened against the shadows that curled eagerly along his jaw.
He wanted more. He wanted to push deeper, to pry her open and drink from her until she shattered beneath him while her cries became louder and louder.
Erevos wanted to drown in it.
In her.
In the endless, exquisite proof that his songbird responded to him, that he, who had once believed himself sustained solely by emotion, could now hunger for flesh.
He dragged his tongue slowly downward through her folds, parting her.There.
