At that exact moment, the cheerful, muffled voice of little Viceroy drifted through the heavy oak door, sounding as if his mouth were already half-full of something sweet. He pounded on the wood, his excitement echoing through the hallway.
"Auntie! That apple thing is amazing! When I have my own mansion, I'm going to have this made every single day! If you don't come down right now, I'm going to eat it all, and Uncle will go hungry!"
Varg seemed to snap back to the real world for a fraction of a second at the sound of his nephew's voice, but his hands remained clenched in the silk sheets with a predatory ferocity that threatened to shred the fabric. I didn't look away from him. Instead, I let a toxic, triumphant smile curl my lips.
"Did you hear that, Alpha? Viceroy is going to eat the apple tart," I said mockingly, my voice dropping to a low, melodic purr. "Tell me... how was that 'Vespera' tart you just had? Does the taste still linger on your tongue?"
