Liera was currently debating whether a volume on mid-century medicinal flora should be categorized by its region of origin or the potency of its toxins when a sharp, rhythmic rapping echoed against her bedroom door.
Liera didn't startle. She simply finished sliding the book into a snug gap in the shelf before turning. "Enter."
The door creaked open, admitting a flurry of humid air and the sharp, coppery tang of fresh blood. It was Rheo. He stood in the threshold, looking a bit more disheveled than a Vernhardt ought to, his breathing slightly hitched. He didn't wait for an invitation to approach, but as he stepped into the pool of light by her desk, Liera's eyebrows migrated upward toward her hairline.
