Han's exploration of Hanna's mouth went so well that she ended up on his lap. He held her close and kissed her lips, face, and neck. His lips grazed her warm skin, his nose flared at her scent, and his hands kept roaming her body. He didn't care about place, time, or situation. Not when she tasted like this.
Waves of immense mana pressure washed over him. Han didn't stop enjoying Hanna. Beside him, Denver's hands shook on the reins. He already smelled blood and wondered how Han could make out with his maid here.
Above them, Xena and Bellatrix watched the battle. Tenaxis and Dark Practitioners didn't worry them. The spilled blood did. How hard had both sides gone? How many pointless deaths?
It was easy to tell which thought belonged to whom.
