Ravena's body was as he remembered, yet different. The girl he knew was still there in her lithe, elegant frame, but now she was layered with the firm, toned strength. Her entire left arm was a canvas of swirling blackwork tattoos, vines and thorns that wrapped around lean muscle, telling a story he didn't know.
She was a beautiful paradox of softness and steel, of pale skin and hard lines. As his hands explored every curve, every instinct in Zaeryn's body screamed at him to skip the preliminaries, to claim her right there. Lust, hot and heavy, coiled in his gut.
Ravena smiled. She could see from the look in his eyes that she had the exact effect on him she'd intended. The raw hunger there was a victory, a confirmation that the connection they shared had not faded with time but had instead sharpened into something far more potent.
