XIAODAN’S HANDS on his hips. Soft. Caressing. Malekh’s laid over hers on him. Firm. Insistent. Both keeping him in place between them, where he belonged. “Look at him. Oh, Zidan, look at how exquisitely he takes us both.” Caught in the throes of them, Remy could not have said, in that moment, what the hell Aluria even was.
