Damen looked at him from half-lowered lids. "I am hardly a proper Veretian, am I?" Every line of him screamed Akielos. In the morning light, his skin was a burnished bronze, set off by the whiteness of the sheets around him. The powerful sinews of his body gave the impression of a man ready to spring into action, even in repose.

But that playful shove was no threat, as the easy relaxation of Laurent's body proclaimed. Damen was not put off. He just laughed and caught at Laurent's foot. "What sort of words should a well-versed Veretian use in the bedroom, then?" He lightly touched the captured extremity, running fingers along the sole. His thumb traced the graceful arch all the way up to the ball of the foot. A little playful rebuttal, which might well earn him a kick to the nose, but he was prepared for it.