{Matured Content}
"Ugh, I'm so annoyed! First, it was Seriah, then Galen, followed by Inara, and now Lysander. To be honest, only Iris is the perfect vampire... she's adorable and doesn't think like a childish ten-year-old, which actually terrifies me." Eleanor staggered into their chamber, her feet dragging weakly across the floor.
The room whirled in a dizzying blur, and her knees buckled. But before she hit the floor, Ares was there, his warm hands grasping her waist, his chest a solid anchor against her disoriented senses.
"My knight in shining armor," she giggled, her hand rising to his face.
Ares chuckled, enchanted by her intoxication. "My damsel in distress."
He relieved her of the bottle and guided her to the bed.
"I'm not in distress," Eleanor said, reclining on the bed with a cheerful laugh. Her eyes closed, a contented smile on her lips.
Ares set the bottle on the table, removing his cloak to drape it on the cushion.
