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John's hand lingered on the heavy wooden door for a moment, the echo of the latch clicking shut still reverberating through the dimly lit chamber. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm that matched the heat flushing his skin.
The kisses from Edda and Orna had been brief but electric — Edda's bold, teasing press against his lips, her tongue flicking out like a promise of chaos, and Orna's warmer, more insistent one, carrying the faint scent of forge smoke and iron.
Now, as he turned away from the door, he heard their footsteps behind him, soft and determined, closing the distance in the shadowed hallway of his lordly estate.
