Sunday
“There is a saying that a man’s reputation is like his shadow,” Talen observed calmly. “It sometimes follows him, and sometimes proceeds him, but it rarely fits him like a glove. Come sit on my knee, little demon,” he held out his hand.
Aislen slipped onto his lap and put her arm around his neck, leaning into his comforting warmth and size. “I know all about reputations,” she agreed, nuzzling in and breathing in the scent of his skin. “I have quite a reputation myself as the Triquetra’s whore.”
“Hmm,” Talen refilled his wine glass and offered it to her. His thumb stroked over the skin of her thigh, a small caress that melted her heart in its absentmindedness. Even when distracted by something else, he touched her with a gentle intimacy. “It is rare for a vampire of my age to be
