Extraits

Come here, Consort. Giving him an arch look, she sauntered over. “You summoned?” He opened the small box sitting on his desk and brought out two butter-soft knife sheaths meant for her forearms. “I cannot have you out in the world without your blades.” “Raphael!” Gathering up the gifts, she made feminine sounds of pleasure he usually only ever heard as she lay sweat-slicked and naked in their bed. “This is Deacon’s work. Oooh, they feel…” Doing up the buckles, she slid in the knives and shivered. “Careful, Elena. I may decide you enjoy those sheaths far too much.” Grinning, she twisted and pulled out the blades in a quick draw, testing positioning and tightness. “God, Deacon is talented.” She slid the knives back in a second later, and spun into his arms with the lithe grace of a fighter, her smile fading into an intensity of emotion so raw, it was a stormcloud over her irises. “You know me.” Her fingers brushing his cheek. “You see me.” Thank you.