Every second the tension increased, and the beating of his heart strengthened in force. Thump, thump, thump. The palpable heartbeat and the rush of blood surged to the top of his head.
Spread-eagled on a large canopy bed, its sheets and the floor scattered with rose petals, the young man involuntarily swallowed to calm his nerves. Due to extreme nervousness, his body stiffened, and his breathing became erratic.
Being this nervous was understandable, given what—or rather who—was opposite him—a woman eying him like a feline predator closing in on her prey.
Through the petals that covered the bedsheet, the witch walked gracefully toward him.
Her beauty could overthrow cities, her contours voluptuous, her waist slender, her behind slightly plump, her thighs smooth and long—all cloaked in a white silk gown, radiating a decadent beauty that was almost fatal. The solitary and authoritative magic she exuded made one want to bow down and kiss the soles of her feet.
