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October 29 - December 17, 2024
Beautifully done, Little Viper.
She wanted his all. His silent shadow and his passive protection. His unwavering and unnerving calm. There was no feeling but him. He was all consuming.
Mal was the Dread Descendant. He was her savior.
“Now, Little Viper,” the husky way he called her brought a smile to her lips, “the reason I brought you here.”
“You honor me, Little Viper.” “The honor is mine,” she said quietly. “And has been for quite some time now.”
“Do you know that entire evening I was consumed by the thought of you in that lavender dress?”
“I don’t think I quite understood the meaning of your presence until I was forced to endure your absence.”
“I will end each and every one of them that tries to take what is mine.” “The Dread Lands?” She asked as his hand pulled out from between her stomach and her pants. A darkness formed on Mal’s face. “You.” His eyes bore into hers with a lethal rage so calm it should have been unsettling. “You are mine.”
Maeve looked up at him, panting, the skin on her throat hot and pulsing. “Because I’m yours.” Mal nodded serenely. “Because you are mine.”
“I will gladly die a hundred deaths if it is he who breathes life back into me.”
She and Abraxas were the mouth and the sword. He was Death incarnate.
