TASTE OF THE CURSED LUNA
The sight of the dough soaking up the grey fat made her vision swim with nausea.
“Now, the dark nectar,” Tyler said, prying the lid from her cup and thrusting it at her.
She began to pour the sweet liquid, but Ryan’s hand suddenly clamped over hers, forcing the entire contents to splash into the bowl in a single, muddy surge.
The table erupted in predatory laughter.
“And a dash of fire to ignite the spirit,” Glenn smirked, splashing a heavy dose of crimson chili-extract into the mess.
“I believe a contribution from the Southern Vines is in order,” Matt added, emptying a dark, fizzing bottle of fermented juice into the mixture.
Bab Populer