The Rogue King did not speak.
“You have your payment,” he rumbled after a moment, his chest barely moving.
“Indeed, but your guests are still abroad. Or shall I leave with my people?” she droned, stroking his chin with a lazy finger.
He stepped back, and she followed, her eyes never leaving his. “Your room is prepared. Why not rest after your ordeal?”
“For you, my pet, I would do it thrice in a row,” she replied sultrily.
He pressed his lips together.
She threw her head back, laughing.
She was red now – red hair, bronzed skin, red dress. He turned away, and she grabbed his arm.
“Wait,” she whispered, all mirth disappearing.
She pushed his sleeve back up, then pulled a small bottle from her bottomless dress. She sprinkled a powdery substance over the cut in the crook of his arm, pa
