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“Thank goodness you had this kind of foresight.”
He chuckled again. “Let’s put it this way, I’ve been in a constant aroused state since I caught your blood rose scent. I figured this would happen sooner or later.”
~ ~ ~
Regan didn’t know what to make of their current situation. He’d been right to plan ahead and he’d been really right about their mutual lust for each other. She couldn’t have refused him even if she’d wanted to.
Which she didn’t.
She’d been without a man for a long time now and wherever this led, she appreciated the sex. There, she’d admitted it to herself. She’d missed romping in bed with him, or on ottomans, or beneath weeping willows. She wondered if Ian had ever thought about doing it in the air.
“You’re smiling. No, I’d call that a grin. What are you thinking?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me. Now.”
Having found her thong halfway down the right leg of her pants, she put it on then pulled up her jeans and zipped. “Have you ever had sex while levitating or even flying?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Honey, I’m game if you are. But no, I’ve never done that before.”
“We might have to give it a shot.” She pulled her sweater down, then dropped to the grass and slid on her ankle boots, zipping up each in turn.
“I’ll say this again. For such a spiritual being, you’re very physical.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He nodded, smiling once more.
When she stood up, she saw he’d turned his back to her and was using a couple of fingers to part the draped willow branches.
“Looking for Invictus sign?”
“Always. The skies look clear, though. No sign of a red wind. And I’ve been thinking. We should head to Grasmer then Clarefield to make an appearance. I’ll contact Ben and Stone again to let them know where we’ll be.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He turned toward her, looking her up and down. “The kerchief?”
She felt a blush climb her cheeks. “Um, I’m keeping it with me for the time being.”
“Shit. I’m not thinking. Let me fly you to my home near Gasmer. We can both clean up.”
“Now that does sound like a plan.”
He flew her swiftly in the direction of the north-central plain city. From what she knew, Gasmer now had a population of fifty-thousand Realm-folk, though she remembered it as a village of only a couple hundred.
Just as he passed over a well-lit street, however, he veered sharply left.
She didn’t know why until she saw the cause; two shifters had fought and killed an Invictus pair right beneath a streetlight. Several Realm-folk stood back, watching.
When he touched down, Regan had to hold her nose. The smell was awful.
“Mastyr Ian.” The taller of the two shifters with blood spatter across his face, chest and arms, nodded to Ian, then to Regan. “Apologies for the mess.” He swiped his cheek with his sleeve.
Ian kept his arm around her waist. “Just checking to see if you needed help.”
The shifter offered a wry grin. “Nope. But these two have been around a long time and were hard to take down.”
