Alaria Thorne

The club was only dimly lit aside from the flashing strobes and rotating beams casting their vibrant glow over the pulsing, writhing crowd. The heat of the club was a stark contrast to the chill of the air outside, and she pulled slightly at the sweater, cursing her modesty for quite possibly the first time.

It seemed some pulp-novel version of a European hub, equal parts Renaissance-age Florence and modern day Paris with a heavy helping of Las Vegas and New York__t least, that was the way she thought of it. It was so far beyond description and unrelatable to any other place that she grasped desperately at straws trying to puzzle out how she'd tell the tale she'd no doubt live tonight.

Alruna couldn__ stop thinking about the way it felt to be behind him in the battle to leave Reric. His sword sent the inferior Obotrite shields to splinters, and its men to worse. Each attempt on her life had been met with blood and steel, and Hákon seemed more like Týr, focused and mighty, but ready to sacrifice for the good of all. Despite the utter destruction of Reric, and the brutality Hákon had shown throughout, she felt completely safe in his arms.

The doubts, strong as they were, were rousing more than hesitation. Her eyes drifted closed, fingertips sliding over the silk and lace panties she wore.Larry could never know how many times they__ been pulled aside in a rush of unbridled lust, how the side had been carefully stitched after they__ been ripped from her in a bar bathroom a few years ago by a man whose name she didn__ even know. She found her fingers at the seam, her breath shallow and shaking as she remembered the way his rough, callused fingers felt inside her, the ache of his teeth at her shoulder, the sound of his growling moans as he gripped her hair and plunged deep into her throat. She could still smell the whiskey on his breath, the stifling cloud of smoke that permeated every part of the hole-in-the-wall bar

Despite his attractiveness, Sandie couldn__ have been more disappointed. She lamented, thinking that she should have known that it would have just been another stupid cowboy like her father to show up. Still, she couldn__ help but hope that he would be some sort of comfort, even if only as company and a hand with the sometimes back-breaking work. He certainly was easy on the eyes, and his warm smile conveyed a sort of gentleness that was almost entirely foreign to her. The way he extended his hand earnestly, even removing his hat when walking up to her, made her feel respected and appreciated.