The sun had fully breached the horizon, casting the Tagor Desert in a blinding, golden brilliance that promised a day of scorching heat. The endless dunes rippled like a frozen ocean of fire, the shadows retreating as the relentless light claimed the world.
But for Queen Cai Wei, the heat she felt did not come from the sun. It came from the man who was effortlessly carrying her in his arms, walking across the shifting sands as if they were paved stone.
She was broken. Shattered. Her body felt like it had been dismantled and put back together by a mad sculptor. Her inner thighs were trembling uncontrollably, slick with a mixture of her own juices, Alaric's seed, and the grit of the desert. Her throat was raw from screaming. Her mind was a blank slate, scrubbed clean by a night of relentless, overwhelming sensory overload.
"You look tired, my pet," Alaric murmured, looking down at her.
