|Gryphon's POV|
The glass in my hand catches the muted gold light of the Asphodel chandelier, casting fractured glimmers over the marble bar. I swirl the amber liquid slowly, letting the scent of aged whiskey hit the back of my throat before I even taste it. The place is alive with the low hum of violins and lust, but I'm numb to it all.
I built Asphodel to be a haven for the decadent, the discreet, and the damned. Tonight, I sit firmly in the third category.
"Never thought I'd see you brooding with a drink like a widower in a Shakespearean tragedy," Melaine's voice cuts through the jazz like smoke. Her silhouette leans on the bar beside me, black silk blouse hugging her like sin.
"Didn't realize you were auditioning for a therapist, Melaine." I take a slow sip and let it burn.
She hu
