"Enough—!" she cried, her flames shattering around her veil. "I want it too—I need your help!"
The words echoed across the ruined theater, raw, desperate, shaking with something she had never allowed herself to admit: weakness.
Kael stilled, his chest rising and falling, his c**k still slick from Carla and Lyra’s desperate bodies. Carla froze in disbelief, her flushed skin gleaming with sweat as she whipped her head toward the Witch. Lyra, still panting on her elbows, her body trembling from the last climax, lifted her gaze with a dark smirk.
The Witch stepped forward, her gown trailing like dying fire behind her. Her flames parted around her as though they were ashamed to touch her. Every movement was trembling, yet laced with dangerous intent. She clawed at the straps of her black lac
