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Summary
Her sharp, knowing smile lets him know that he’s been caught. Placing her hands on her hips very slowly, she approaches him by the counter, unflinching, spaded tail curling from one side to the other behind her. He swallows, but doesn’t back up. His captors in the hells were five times more terrifying; he can handle a staring contest with a haughty sorcerer.
“See something you like?” Rhea inquires, tilting her head just a fraction to look up at him from their short distance apart.
Dammon falters, trying very hard to not admire the curve of her lips as she speaks. “Pardon?”
🜂
In a whirlwind of a fling, Dammon stumbles into the talons of a woman who treasures the rare. He sinks his teeth deeper.
Series
- Part 2 of artisans of faerȗn