The pixel image sent with Evelyn Day’s profile information was a horrible representation of the stunning beauty I’d just f****d. In the image, harsh lighting had cast a purplish glow to her skin, her hair—a true fiery red—had been matted and appeared dark. The soft strands were anything but. They curled wildly, were soft and shiny and the color of the blood moon. In the image, her eyes had been wide with what I had imagined to be fear and her mouth had been pinched in a flat line. The vibrant and feisty woman who’d arrived to the remote transport station was nothing like her official profile image, and that fact pleased me immensely.
When she’d first awakened, her eyes met mine first. Mine. Bron had been a fark, eager to get his hands on her under the guise of medicine. He’d even had a c*
