yme

motes in the dining room, m

ogany table, sta

lay screaming in the clinic while the doctor scrubbed the wound

na feel

leeding to hold the hand of a wo

rs swun

ina. She wasn't in uniform. She wore a silk dress tight enough

just proximity-she smel

ed. He turned to Faustin

ut she smirked as she obeyed, leaving a trail of her

my side, droppi

l like he

, the Elders are watching. My father pressure

bout yo

ce. "My body is just a tool. It's like lifting

ted. It felt like

She caught my eye and deliberately brushed her hair back,

nd stiffened. "I told you

," she cooed, releasing a s

snarled.

," Archi

and left, her v

sorry. Six more months. Then we toss he

he dark hair

lost me, Archi