A Temple of Vengeance Companion Story
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It is cold to walk in the shadow of a newborn goddess.
When tasked to do the impossible, sometimes even the righteous must disobey.
“What do you seek of my Raven Queen?”
He opened his mouth—I’m sure to object or demand—but I tilted my head and smiled at him from behind my curtain of scarlet curls with all the womanly radiance I could muster. He was my windfall, the solution to my current problem set for me by Illyria herself. For all my training and years of practice as a bedslave, I also wanted, nay, needed this god to bend to my will.
He did.
Memad closed his mouth, swallowed and breathed in and out slowly, causing his magnificent chest to rise and fall. He was mesmerizing. Had I not been so inured to banal sexuality, I might’ve lost my own train of thought. Instead, I needed control of his. But it was a near thing.
Clutching the Book, I closed the last step between us to lay my free hand over his heart.
“I can help you, Memad, son of storms and glory,” I whispered, “if you help me.”
He nodded, our gazes still locked together.
In the name of the Raven Queen, I make love and war.
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