The late afternoon sun bled across the western peaks of Auravale, painting the sky in violent hues of bruised purple and burning orange. The air on the private terrace of the Lord's Manor was thick, heavy with the scent of crushed fruits, and expensive wine.
Leo sprawled on a velvet chaise lounge, looking every inch the conquering emperor.
He wore a loose silk robe looted from Caelum's personal wardrobe. The robe was left carelessly open, exposing the fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulder.
"Open," Seraphine whispered.
She sat on the edge of the lounge, her hip pressed intimately against Leo's thigh. She was wearing a translucent gown that clung to her damp skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. With surgical precision, she peeled a grape, her long, slender fingers stripping the skin away before bringing the glistening fruit to Leo's lips.
