The Nun's Lustful Desire
“Pour me another wine.”
She reaches for the bottle, but before she can finish pouring, the doors slam open.
Marcus stumbles through first, blood soaking his collar, one arm hanging wrong at his side. Elias follows, worse, dragging his feet like each step costs him something. And behind them, unhurried, hands loose at his sides like a man returning from an evening walk, comes Theodore.
He is smiling.
I have faced down rogue Alphas, ancient dragons, things older than language itself, and none of them frightened me the way that smile does now.