Argider stirred slowly, her body heavy with the remnants of an unholy mix of exhaustion and indulgence. A knock came at the door, a polite but insistent rap-rap-rap, barely audible over the hush of the pre-storm air.
Outside, the sky brooded with rainclouds, but within, the room was an untamed wilderness of darkness, tangled sheets, and scattered garments.
Her hand fumbled along the bedside for some sense of orientation, only to meet skin. Warm, soft skin.
Oh. That's right. She had been ambitious, recklessly, gloriously so. Callista and Esmeralda. Together. A tired smile tugged at her lips, but it faltered as a twinge of soreness rippled through her body.
If she were a man, the poets would be singing of her conquests. But alas, her own escapades weren't so easily romanticized now as a woman.
No, she wasn't a dashing rogue or a rakish hero. She was a woman who had taken... well, two.
