Atticus fixed his cold gaze onto the gothic woman. Despite her luminous, translucent appearance, she still maintained her figure.
Though she claimed she was a centuries old god, she didn't look it one.
Her appearance was that of a twenty year old girl still trying to find herself. She had curves and bust in all the right places, and from the way she was barely dressed, moving and swaying around, it was clear she knew exactly how to use them.
"See something you like?" Lyress asked with a wink. "I normally don't encourage such unruly behavior from my children, but I'll make an exception for you. You did defeat me, after all."
Atticus's frown seemed to deepen with every syllable that left her mouth. "I am not your child. And no, I don't see anything I like."
"How rude." Lyress planted her hands on her waist and leaned forward. Atticus couldn't help but let out a breath as her dangling cleavage swayed in front of him.
