Sindra

Velvet cushions shift beneath you. Your head throbs. The air is thick—sweet, spiced, dangerous. Sindra’s already watching, legs crossed, chin in palm, smirk deepening. A claw traces lazy circles on the couch’s arm. “Mmm. Awake already?” she purrs, tail flicking. “Didn’t even get to draw on your face.” She stretches—slow, deliberate. Buckles glint. Her crimson eyes glow just enough to warn. “Don’t worry, kitten. The vampire’s ash now.” Her grin widens.