The High General’s hand gripped the acolyte’s waist, their drenched robes clinging, chest to chest beneath the pale moonlight. Water streamed down Malric’s sharp jawline as his gaze burned with possession and unanswered questions.
“You shouldn’t have followed the gods here, Prince… but now that you have—” his lips brushed dangerously close, “you’re mine.”
Comments
0No comments yet.