Kaelen should have asked what the price was. Should have demanded terms, guarantees, a contract signed in blood and legalese.
The rain stopped. The neon dimmed. And her wings folded around them both, closing out the world as her lips found his—a kiss that tasted of falling, of flight, of the terrible, beautiful seduction of letting go. Wings Of Seduction
Up close, she smelled of ozone and forgotten prayers. Kaelen should have asked what the price was
The neon glow of the lower city painted the rain in shades of bruised purple and electric blue. Kaelen stood on the balcony of his penthouse, a glass of synth-whiskey sweating in his hand, watching the endless crawl of traffic below. He had everything—wealth, power, a name that made boardrooms tremble. But the air up here was thin, sterile, and lonely. The neon dimmed
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he called out, his voice steadier than he felt.
He should have called security. Should have looked away. Instead, he set down his glass and walked to the edge of his own balcony, the rain slicking his hair to his forehead.