Every person in their lifetime must have imagined having tea in surreal surroundings with a beautiful woman.
Yeah, and right now I was in that imagination.
A woman who defied gravity solely by her being sat opposite me, sipping on tea from a crimson cup.
Her hair was starlight-white, her violet eyes the kind poets would happily drown in and the chair she sat on looked like it had been carved out of a cloud.
Being poetic when you're sitting in front of a god is just a side effect.
I wasn't admiring her.
Not really.
Admiration is for fools who forget the monster behind the mask.
For a moment, I almost forgot who I was looking at.
Because beneath the beauty, beneath the gravity-defying chest was a smug bastard who had taken Morvana's face just to screw with me.
And that steaming cup of tea?
Yeah, I wasn't stupid enough to think it was just tea.
I didn't reach for the cup.
Not yet.
Instead, I let my fingers hover just above it as if I was checking the temperature.
