The sheer violet mist-silk slip drifted softly to the thick woolen carpet beside the roaring bronze brazier, leaving Noble Consort Cui Yulan kneeling bare and radiant between Archmage Alaric Steele's muscular legs.
Outside the warded stone walls of the private estate, the night blizzard howled across the frozen roofs of Azure Fall City. Inside the spacious bedchamber, the air remained hot and fragrant with the slow-burning resin of aged spirit-sandalwood.
Alaric leaned back against the carved mahogany chair, resting his broad shoulders against the dark wood while his ruby eyes gazed down at the proud commander of the Violet Thunder Pavilion.
