Aedion’s grin turned predatory. “May I ask
something of you, then?”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to make
requests, but fine.”
That wolfish grin remained as he
whispered in her ear, “If I don’t die tomorrow,
may I kiss you when the day is done?”
Lysandra’s face heated as she pulled back,
yielding a step. She was a trained courtesan,
gods above. Highly trained. And yet the
simple request reduced her knees to wobbling.
She mastered herself, squaring her
shoulders. “If you don’t die tomorrow,
Aedion, then we’ll talk. And see what comes
of it.”
Aedion’s wolfish grin didn’t so much as
falter. “Until tomorrow night, then.”
Hell waited for them tomorrow. Perhaps
their doom. But she wouldn’t kiss him, not
now. Wouldn’t give that sort of promise or
lily
(lily)
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