Malachite snares for iolite lightning.
Ave tossed her copper hair over a shoulder, glanced at him coyly, and asked, “Siflion Rak, will you marry me?” Rak reached out and swept a stray tendril of her hair back behind her ear. “Of course I will, Ave. I love you.”
“And if I want you now?”
“I am yours for the taking, m’lady. If you can figure out how to tie me down out here, then by all means...” Rak leered at her, trying to make it seem a challenge as well as a suggestion. He knew she couldn’t resist a challenge.
Ave chuckled as she undid the laces at the neck of his tunic. “I am going to make you mine, Rak of the Thezi.”
Clothing flew every which way as they undressed each other. At last, Rak was naked, and so was she, sitting on his thighs. Rak admired the light creamy tan perfection of her. She was smaller than he was, but so curvy, so soft…she looked fragile, weak, and helpless, even though Rak knew that wasn’t true. She was a mage, and only a fool would fail to heed the power she commanded.
Ave’s eyes were all over him and soon her hands were, too. She ran a hand from his chest to his belly and even lower, tracing the geometric design that suggested wings before touching his ****, which promptly grew and hardened for her. She appeared pleased by the size of him.