Chapter 13

Hiding.Not a new thing for Typhon. He'd spent much of his exile staying out of harm's way, for the place he'd found himself had many monsters, none willing to obey a god without powers. He'd hoped his days of scurrying for cover were done. But here he was, once more burrowing in the hopes of surviving until the morrow.

One big difference? He'd never hidden with someone before. Never had anyone trust him with their life. Holding his witch, he found himself awash in feelings. First and foremost, a desire to protect. She felt so small against him. Her frame was tiny compared to his, even as her personality was huge. So much power and sass packed in one body. Her bravery in the face of danger awed. So many would have thrown themselves prostrate and begged for mercy. His witch preferred spitting in death's eye.

He stroked a hand down her back and wondered at the strange fate that brought them together. A fate that would likely tear them apart.

Climbing into the dimension sewn into the satchel had been a last-ditch effort. He didn't actually think it would work. At any moment, he expected someone to open the bag and reach in to drag them out.

At least they'd try.

He'd brought the short sword he'd been using in battle with him and would lop off any limbs that attempted to grab. So far, they'd been undisturbed. A good sign? He had no way of knowing. He didn't dare use any magic for seeing. Bad enough the satchel exuded a faint trace the deusvenati might sniff out.

In good news, technically they could survive a period of time in here. They had some food. Weapons. Clothing. They only really lacked bed and bathing facilities. Hopefully they would be out of here before the latter became an issue. The question being, how long they should wait? He'd said a day. A day would be enough for the deusvenati to lose interest or for someone to claim the bag.

Once they did emerge, they would have to plan their next move. He'd not had a chance to find out what happened with Frieda and Deino's mission to find the oracle, although he noticed the former had a new glow about her. What had happened?

He was tempted to wake his witch, but he ignored the urge. In his former life as a god, he would have demanded an answer and not been willing to wait for it. But this Typhon, the one who'd spent a long time waiting for his chance to return to his life, understood patience.

With nothing else to do, he snuggled his witch, and despite meaning to keep watch, he fell asleep.

He woke to his witch nibbling his jawline. Perhaps she dreamed.

He cleared his throat to wake her. "Hello."

"Morning, Ty. Or should I say afternoon? I have no idea what time it is," she purred against his skin as she shifted her body. Not off him, he should add, but plastering herself more thoroughly against him. He'd lain down at some point and she'd used him as a mattress.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, hoping conversation would provide a distraction because now that she'd regained consciousness, he became all too aware of her.

"Horny," she admitted with no hesitation or shame. "You?"

No point in denying what she probably felt pressing against her. "This probably isn't a good time to indulge in carnal acts."

She chuckled against his neck where she'd moved her lips that continued their nibbling tease. "We're hiding in a dark room, waiting to see if we'll be discovered and killed. If we're not, we then need to sneak out of my oversized purse without being noticed, call a portal, and get our asses out of here to somewhere we will most likely be targeted again. Because, hello, my new life involves a lot of running. So excuse me if I'm going to take my pleasure when and where it can be found." She began kissing his neck, teasing his flesh, and he found it hard to come up with a reason why they should stop.

"Getting involved is probably not a good idea."

"So you say, and yet, from where I'm lying, I'm thinking it's going to be great." She wiggled.

He almost let out an ungodly groan. "You make it hard to say no."

"Then don't. I could use some fun, and so could you." She then kissed him, her sensual touch stronger than any argument. And really, why did he argue?

He wanted her.

He returned her embrace, their lips sliding and teasing, their bodies pressed tight and yet impeded by fabric. It had been a long time since he'd removed his robe. Why would he when it never got dirty or wet?

But he commanded it to part, leaving him naked to her touch, the friction of her garments exquisite torture.

"Undress me," she commanded as she rolled off him.

"Bossy witch," he grumbled as his hands roamed her body, tugging at her clothing, her shirt first then her brassiere. He took his time dragging down her pants and undergarments. While they had no light, he could feel. Feel the smoothness of her skin. The way she shivered and undulated at his touch.

Smell her desire.

He nudged her legs apart that he might cup her mound, the dampness of it making him want to cover her body with his and thrust.

But a god should have more control.

He lay alongside her, and while he traced her damp slit with his finger, he found her earlobe and sucked.

"Mmm." She hummed and rolled her hips, pushing her sex against his hand.

Her molten honey had him salivating for the first time in what seemed like forever. And he couldn't resist.

He shifted himself to a spot between her legs and placed his mouth on her, delighting in her cry of surprise then her moan of pleasure as he licked at her. Tasted her. Indulged in an ambrosia that satisfied him more than anything he'd ever known.

As his tongue teased her swollen button, he inserted a finger and stroked her, feeling the pulsing heat as her pleasure coiled. He put in a second finger, and she squeezed him.

Tight.

Oh, so tight. He began thrusting his digits, and her hips joined him in the rhythm, pushing him deep, but not deep enough.

Her breathing hitched as she gasped, "I want you inside me."

"Not yet." He kept pumping her with his fingers even as his tongue traced her sex. He flicked it against her clit before he sucked it, pinching it with his lips until she arched with a cry. Her orgasm had her shuddering, her sex squeezing his fingers.

But he didn't stop. While she was in the throes, he kept teasing her until she practically sobbed. "Fuck me."

He could deny her and himself no longer. He covered her body with his. Her legs parted wide to accommodate. He wrapped an arm around her waist, angling her as the tip of his cock teased her sex.

"Don't you dare take it slow," she growled. Her legs wrapped around his hips and tightened, pulling him into her.

His turn to groan.

It had been so long since he'd been intimate. But that didn't explain why this felt so good.

His lips found hers as he fully sheathed himself. Her channel stretched to accommodate and yet remained tight.

Deliciously so.

He began to move, slowly at first, his hips barely shifting. But she dug her nails into his shoulders and urged him, "Faster. Harder."

At her request, he thrust deeper, feeling the suction as he pulled out and the welcome squeeze when he slammed back in.

Deep.

Hard.

Slam.

He'd have sworn she got tighter with every strike to her sweet spot.

So tight.

She rocked in time with his motion, her legs a vise around him that wouldn't let go. When she came, he felt it in every inch of his being.

A rippling wave that pulsed against his cock. That fisted and drew out his own orgasm, wringing him of pleasure, leaving him limp.

A weak and satiated god collapsed atop her. She didn't protest but hugged him tight.

"Think anyone heard me scream?" she murmured.

"A good thing we're in this alternate dimension, or we might have garnered an audience," was his wry yet very pleased reply. Nice to know the pleasure experienced wasn't one-sided.

"Would we notice if someone moved the satchel?" she asked.

"No. And don't ask me how that works," he warned.

She chuckled. "Spoilsport."

He remained buried in her, content, and yet he knew the moment couldn't last. "We should probably get dressed," he said without much feeling behind it.

"Why would we do that when we're just going to get naked again?"

Before he could ask what she meant, she'd pushed him to his back and grabbed hold, stroking his semi-hard cock into readiness.

"I see you still have the stamina of a god. Good. Because it's been a while for me."

She teased him before she rode him, and he couldn't resist using a sliver of magic to create enough light to see her bouncing atop his body, her head thrown back, hair dangling down her back. Her breasts bounced with each motion. His hands on her hips helped to rock her as she panted and rode him to orgasm.

A climax he shared. His fingers dug into her flesh as he spilled for a second time then lay there gasping, spent.

She leaned down to kiss him. "That should hold me for a few hours. Let's get dressed and go fuck with the outside world."

She stood, and he suddenly understood why some people loved to worship because looking at her, powerful and beautiful—mine—he wanted nothing more than to lay every single world at her feet.

He might have started with Zuzamenn, only when they emerged it was to find the town utterly destroyed.