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That is what Kitt Azer feels like. An enticing devastation.
“In fact,” he says slowly, “I would have believed you were a deity, if only you said so. I wouldn’t have questioned worshiping something so divine.”
Paedyn Gray does not so much as flinch. Mara thinks, in another lifetime, she would make a fine Death.
Mara taps a steady rhythm with her boot. Though, she no longer pretends the beat belongs to her heart. No, she now finds comfort in the lack of such fragility. For she cannot be confined. Not by Life and certainly not by man. But perhaps by a woman. Death smiles. She has finally met her match.
