The air in Fiora's chamber was thick, heavy with the scent of sex, sweat, and the lingering sweetness of the aphrodisiacs.
Alaric stood dominant, his handsome face flushed with exertion but his ruby eyes burning with undiminished energy. His blonde hair clung slightly to his temples.
Lyra was pressed against the wall, gasping, her long straight blonde hair fanned out, blue eyes wide with a mixture of feigned panic and burgeoning, undeniable lust.
Cassandra scrambled back onto the chaise lounge, pulling torn robes around her magnificent curves, her long curly blonde hair in disarray, purple eyes darting between Alaric and her sister.
Fiora lay momentarily forgotten on the bed, catching her breath, her own youthful, perfect body trembling from the force of his recent claiming.
Alaric turned his attention back to Lyra.
"Not finished yet, Mother," he murmured, his voice a low growl.
He stalked towards her.
