“Why don’t we just enjoy the celebration of your arrival?” I ask, sliding my hand up and down his chest like a good, flirty concubine would. It’s not a hardship.

Aron’s hard dual-colored gaze rests on me, and he nods, slowly. “If you like.”

Why not. We’re already here and I worry that if we leave now, we’ll make everyone angry enough to hunt us down. I’ve had enough of that. If I have to spend an awkward evening at a feast, I’d rather do that. “I would like,” I tell him, smiling. “I’m sure Markos and the others would, too.”

He leans in closer, his voice low. “You know I care nothing for them.”

For some reason, I get goosebumps. Maybe it’s the way he says it—as if it’s a caress and not a statement of an arrogant god. Whatever it is, it makes me shiver. I keep smiling and turn towards the lord and lady, who are watching us. “No one touches anything of Aron’s, and we’ll stay.”

“Of course,” Lord Secuban says, dipping low to touch his forehead to the floor again. “Of course, my lord. Whatever you desire, it shall be. We are simply honored to host you.”

Aron grunts.

I pat his chest again and glance over at the lord. “Eat and celebrate,” I tell him with an encouraging smile, trying to smooth things over.

Lady Gerline lifts her head, her body trembling. She looks at the pillow at Aron’s feet, then at me, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. No wonder she’s been giggling like a schoolgirl and so nervous about the feast. If sharing is the big custom here, she probably thought I’d be boinking her husband and all his buddies, and she’d get to fuck Aron.

For some reason, that makes me feel incredibly possessive. I tighten my hand on his shirt and slide a little closer to him, as if I can lay claim on the man. Her gaze meets mine and she watches me for a moment, then composes herself and sits down on the pillow at her husband’s feet. Her expression is tight, as if she’s miserable and doing her best not to show it. I feel a little guilty knowing that her evening was ruined and she’s probably been shamed in front of her people…but only a little.

Fuck all this sharing crap.

“Do you need a chair?” Aron asks, his hand sliding to my bare hip. My legs are tossed over his thighs, and I realize belatedly that my skirt has fallen open, exposing most of my calves and thighs to everyone in the room. “Say the word and I will have them get you one.”

I think for a moment and then pretend to adjust Aron’s collar. He’s wearing a new tunic, this one of a pale, cream-colored weave with deep red knotwork on the edges. “Can I stay here? With you?”

He nods and then glares at the lord of Novoro over my shoulder as the man takes his seat.

“I am sorry, my Lord of Storms,” Secuban stammers, because the man clearly does not know when to shut up. “It is just…you are the god of battle. I thought blood would be the only thing you thirst for—”

Before he can finish, Aron puts a hand on the nape of my neck and pulls me in. His mouth crashes against mine and the spark slams between us, sending a shockwave through my body.

I’m stunned. This is the first time Aron’s kissed me, really kissed me. At first I think it’s just more pretending, him trying to convince the others that I’m really his concubine. But then his tongue slides between my parted lips, teasing me, and hot need such as I’ve never felt before comes crashing through me. Aron is…a really good kisser. I mean, he’s a god, so of course he should be, but I’m still taken by surprise. His arrogance bleeds through the caress of his mouth on mine, and what starts out as simply a press of lips becomes a conquest. Within moments, he’s slicking his mouth over mine, as if he’s hungry and I’m the only thing he wants. Over and over, he kisses me so deeply until I’m lost to everything around us. My body is humming with need and when he pulls his mouth from mine, not only do I lose the taste of him but I lose that delicious electric tingle between us.

I whimper a protest.

“Faith,” Aron murmurs, cupping my jaw. He studies me, my swollen lips and heaving chest, and plants a hand firmly over one of my breasts, cupping it and teasing the hard nipple with his thumb. As he does, he casts a defiant look over at Lord Secuban. “Do not tell me what a god hungers for, mortal. You know nothing at all.”

I cling to Aron, doing my best not to squirm on his lap. It seems that Lord Secuban isn’t the only one that knows nothing at all, because I’m totally stunned at the kiss, and at the possessive hand that still teases my nipple, driving me mad with aching hunger. If he just wanted to show them I was his slave girl, his concubine, all he had to do was smack my ass and tell me to sit on the floor, and I’d have done it.

That was not a pretend kiss.

That was not a pretend anything.

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50

Breathless, I do my best not to stare at him as people settle into their seats and music begins. The feast starts around us, women carrying dishes to the table and pouring wine. Someone discreetly sets a small table next to Aron’s throne and sets two cups of wine out. Minutes pass, and Aron simply watches the crowd, not saying a thing. I have no idea what’s going through the god’s head, but there’s very little going through mine. I’m too stuck on the memory of his mouth on mine, the feel of his tongue as he conquered my mouth.

The hand on my breast that still teases my nipple through my clothing, as if I’m just his plaything.

“A plate, my lord? My lady?” a girl asks, stepping forward, her eyes shining and eager to please.

My stomach growls, and I look at the feast table. It’s practically dripping with delicious things and the people here seem to have forgotten all about Aron and their leader and are settling in to feast. I’m hungry, and I nod at her.

“I should eat,” I murmur to Aron, and try to stand up.

He immediately pulls me back down into his lap, my butt pressing back against him. His hand slips into the deep vee of my dress and then he’s teasing my nipple with callused fingers against my bare skin, and I nearly orgasm. “You’re staying here,” he murmurs, and nips at my ear.

Oh fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if it’s rude to climax in front of strangers. A chilling thought hits me, and I lean back against him, resting my head on his shoulder so I can lean in and whisper. “Aron, is there another Aspect nearby? Hedonism?”

That would explain all of this.

He gives my nipple a light, teasing pinch, and I bite back another whimper. “No,” he murmurs, low enough for just me to hear, and he says nothing more.

But he doesn’t take his hands off me either.

Oh god, I don’t know what to think. I’m practically writhing in his lap by the time the girl returns with food, so aroused I can hardly stand it. In Tadekha’s citadel, he touched me because I was affected by her nearness, and he was, too. If there’s no Hedonism Aspect nearby, what’s behind this? A sudden image of Bad Aron fucking Yulenna against the tree flashes through my mind.

Gods have needs just like anyone else. And as I shift my weight on his lap, I can feel the hard, erect length of him pressing against my backside.

He’s not immune to all of this. Not by a long shot. I want to turn around and look at him, to ask him what he’s feeling, but the music swells and then the serving girl sets a plate of food down, and my mouth floods with saliva.

I’m starving.

I reach up and touch Aron’s jaw. “I’m going to eat now,” I murmur to him. “And unless you find it sexy for me to get distracted and dribble food all over myself because you keep playing with my nipples, you’ll let go of me.”