The soft morning light filtered through the curtains of the imperial bedroom, tinting the sheets with bluish hues that mingled with the almost palpable warmth of the couple in the center of the bed.
Scarlet was—once again—comfortably nestled in Strax's lap, as if it were her personal throne. Her legs were crossed behind him, her arms around his neck, and her head rested possessively, almost feline, on his shoulder.
Strax ran his fingers down her back, a slow touch that made her sigh as if it kept her alive.
The egg in the corner of the room pulsed with an irritated light.
Nothing new.
Scarlet glanced at it, narrowing her eyes as if observing a declared rival.
"That insolent little thing keeps staring at me," she grumbled, tightening her thighs around Strax's waist.
Strax chuckled softly.
"You know it doesn't have eyes, right?"
"He's got energy," Scarlet replied without hesitation. "And energy looks. And he looks at me."
