And she arose from her deathbed in a gossamer gown, with eyes the color of starlight and hair as black as the night. And those who were her captors trembled, for the scent of death and madness emanated from her soul, and yet she was not dead. She moved like the spiders that creep in the treetops, and none could look away. Taking her first captor in hand, she fed deep and ravenous. And so it was that Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, was born from the blood of the dead.
To have a man be able to touch her and bring her to the edge of release in a matter of seconds was a skill rarely found. "As rare as the Arc of the Covenant," Sophie mumbled to herself.
Smoldering Hunger
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To have a man be able to touch her and bring her to the edge of release in a matter of seconds was a skill rarely found. "As rare as the Arc of the Covenant," Sophie mumbled to herself.
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