Lion Head Mesa tearstain

The trembling of her figure silenced him, if only for a short time.

Arsenio placed his chin over her head again and hummed softly. A melancholy tune rumbled from his throat.

The Greek had killed before. It would not have been challenging to kill again. If he could be sure of her release, certain that there would be none who might follow her, he would have killed all of them. Akashingo would have been draped in the blood of its people without any hesitation. Arsenio would not share this with Tamar. He knew that they were not words that would bring her comfort.

So, the mercenary hummed against her until the weight of his anger had fallen from his shoulders. He breathed in the leafy smell of her fur. When her aroma overwhelmed him, the man pressed his nose into the back of her ear, toying with the plush fur, savoring each moment.


He was intoxicated.