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    Summary

    Justice watched the scene through his eyes and Anders could feel the harsh and not-entirely-unexpected spark of arousal flooding from the spirit, but it wasn’t meant for Hawke. Justice had been enamored with the sharp glint of the blade as it hissed through the air, the way the templar’s blood dripped from the point, and the way Hawke’s fingers wrapped around its curved grip. Another spark jolted through him, his blood heating as Justice imagined the taste of lyrium-infused blood on his lips, the sharpness of the blade against skin, and running his fingers down the tapering handle to the subtle and arched knot of the pommel.

    Language:
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