Hellino, trapped within the delicate, heart-stoppingly beautiful frame of Shasha, felt the cold marble of the divan beneath his thighs turn to ice. Beron Theodore—the infamous CutSee—loomed directly over him, his lavender eyes burning with a dark, unadulterated hunger that made Hellino's warrior instincts scream in absolute revulsion.
With his heart hammering against his ribs like a snared bird, Hellino decided he could not let this carnal game go a single step further. He had to act. He had to neutralize this flamboyant monster before his dignity was permanently stripped away.
Slowly, deliberately, keeping his storm-grey eyes wide and feign-terrified, Hellino slid his slender, pale hand down into the folds of his small satchel. His fingers brushed against the cold glass of the vial—the concentrated sleeping powder he had obtained from the border alchemists. It was strong enough to fell a charging sand-beast within seconds if it breached the nasal passages.
