He followed her through the long corridors of the garrison's central keep. The air changed as they walked: from the public heat of the hall to the cool breath of old stone, then to the faint scent of rain leaking through narrow windows.
Their steps echoed in rhythm, her soft silk against his bare soles, a cadence that only they could hear.
They reached a side chamber—one of the council antechambers left abandoned after the purges.
The door to the side chamber slammed shut behind them with a heavy click—but the sound was drowned by Flora's feral growl, her body whirling on Aiden like a tempest unleashed.
No words, no hesitation; the fury in her eyes ignited into raw, desperate hunger, and she lunged, crashing into him with bruising force, her mouth devouring his in a nasty, sloppy kiss that tasted of blood and storm—tongues clashing in a wet saliva spilling down her chin as she bit his lip hard enough to draw copper, moaning into him like a woman possessed:
