The voice came from beside the bed post.
She had been there the whole time — the woman in red, the one who had walked behind him through the portal like a shadow that had learned to have opinions.
Tall. Young. Body poured into a latex suit the color of arterial blood, zipped high at the throat, the material so tight across the chest that her nipples were visible through it like accusations.
Wide hips. An ass that the suit had no hope of fully containing, the fabric riding up between the cheeks, the rounded lower curves exposed.
Thick thighs.
A face that was trying very hard to be neutral and failing.
She had been watching.
The whole walk through the corridor. The whole throw. The whole business with the three tournament winners and their hands.
Watching with her arms folded and her jaw set and her tail — 'there was a tail, very still' — pressed flat.
Tianlong reached her.
His hand went to the zipper at her chest.
She sucked in a breath.
He pulled.
