Duskfire Glacier [m] good taste is for people who can't afford sapphires

the feverkissed king is frozen in a moment; torn between every instinct screaming at him — and his historical inclination to listen to them without resistance — and the last thinning shreds of restraint; those things that he sometimes made him a gentleman. trying to convince himself that he was alpha and that he had responsibilities to exercise restraint were weak; thin. feeble lies. his position encouraged him. his desire to father children and not just sire them had been the driving force behind duskfire, after all.

she gives a lilting hum; a purr and he feels that chain of strained resistance shatter.

lane...? a croon of her name is given, whiskey steeped in smoke; unsure if he let it leave his lips as a statement or a question; or the hope of an invitation ( perhaps all three ).