The parlor glowed with the amber hush of candlelight, each flame trembling like a secret about to be whispered. Incense slithered through the air.....honeysuckle, something muskier beneath. Velvet hung in thick folds over the tall windows, sealing the room like a memory, and the women of the House of Solace were scattered like jewels, lounging on settees and polished arms of chairs, casting laughter and lashes at whichever man they had chosen to devour.
Jasmine sat apart.
She wore a wine-colored slip of silk, so thin it clung to her skin like breath. Her legs were folded beneath her, and her gaze traced the rim of her glass as though reading a fortune in the shape of the red wine. She was not looking at the door when it opened, nor when he entered—but every muscle in her body knew the ex
