Ardor's Leveche
Ardor's Leveche
“The dark complexion was a warm honey gold. The lips were full and as they stretched into a gentle smile, the teeth behind those lips were white and straight, the central incisors a tad longer than the laterals—perfect in every way. Warm black eyes gazed down in such a way she could see the heat building in them. Soon, she knew those black depths would be hot as pitch bubbling in a cauldron.
“How do you feel, wench?” he asked in his soft Storian accent that sent tremors of expectation down her s...pine.
Ardor put a hand to her head and was relieved she no longer felt the pain that had been slamming against the inside of her skull. “Better,” she said and became aware she was no longer on the ship. “Where are we?”
“Inside the base camp,” he told her and helped her sit up.
“How did I…?” She looked up at him with accusing eyes. “He had me drugged.”
A soothing hand was slipping up and down her back in a comforting way. “It was for your own good. You would never have been able to make the journey from the ship to the mountain.”MoreLess
“How do you feel, wench?” he asked in his soft Storian accent that sent tremors of expectation down her s...pine.
Ardor put a hand to her head and was relieved she no longer felt the pain that had been slamming against the inside of her skull. “Better,” she said and became aware she was no longer on the ship. “Where are we?”
“Inside the base camp,” he told her and helped her sit up.
“How did I…?” She looked up at him with accusing eyes. “He had me drugged.”
A soothing hand was slipping up and down her back in a comforting way. “It was for your own good. You would never have been able to make the journey from the ship to the mountain.”MoreLess
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