THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT!

It's also 5k words.

They returned to Corvo Bianco despite her vehement behest that all of Lazarus' things remained at the Pheasantry, and most of all, that she wanted to see Ygritte and Imogen but Regis thoroughly refused. There was no offered explanation either.

Cleaned, dressed, and fed, she crawled beneath the covers and pretended she was anywhere but at the Witcher's estate. The blood that had painted the floor, walls, and bedsheets from her previous visit was washed away as if it'd never happened. It certainly felt more like a dream than a recent memory.

Regis drew the curtains closed then snuffed out a candle, throwing the guest bedroom into total darkness.

Silence followed like a heavy blanket. Laz strained her ears in vain.

How vampires came and went without so much as a creak in the floorboards was a mystery. The bedroom door eased open, betraying his location and intent. A slice of warm light from the lower level cut a wedge across the floor. Regis' shadow stretched and crawled up the wall.

"If you need anything," he said, "I will not be far."

Laz scowled like a defiant child.

"You're mad if you think I'm going to be able to sleep," she said, cringing as she straightened her legs.

"Am I?" He paused.

"You know I don't like the Witcher," she muttered candidly. "I don't want to be here. I'd rather be anywhere. Why not the cemetery? Or the inn? Hell, even Velen is a suitable destination if it removes me from this place."

Regis shut the door, and more silence followed then the bed dipped, and the smell of sage and thyme overcame her like a hypnotizing spell.

"Perhaps now is the best time to discuss this," the vampire muttered solemnly from the thick darkness.

Laz stiffened at the statement. What could have possibly gone wrong at the inn, much less the cemetery? Worry knotted her insides like coiling snakes in the silence. If she could only see his face and gauge his expression the apprehension wouldn't be so intense. For reasons beyond her, she prayed it wasn't about Dettlaff.

"There's been several transgressions since your rescue." Regis said, "Firstly, I didn't return you to the tavern because, to be put it frankly, everyone believes you are deceased. Even the ducal court is under the suspicion you've been killed, by a werewolf, which they are currently looking for."

"That's utter nonsense. I'm not dead." she laughed hoarsely, then deadpanned. "And I'm not a werewolf."

"I, too, was under the impression something horrible had happened to you," he continued. "That you'd been mauled by a beast, but I recalled crows blotting the sky one particular evening when you were in my arms… Do you remember hearing the screams?"

Laz suddenly remembered, too.

"So the visions were real," she whispered. "I thought all this time I was hallucinating from grief. The crows? Is that how you found me?"

"Ygritte is the one who found you. However, I have a special relationship with the corvids and asked if they spotted anything four-legged and white prowling the area. They delivered some troubling tidings that you had fled towards the Dun Tynne region. At the same time, Geralt had set out to slay the wolf.

"When Detlaff and I found him, he was already storming the keep. We hadn't a clue where you were. You know the rest."

She sat quietly in the thick silence contemplating over the news. Stupidity and recklessness all played a part that not only cost Laz's clandestine curse to be brought to the forefront but also placed Ygritte's life in jeopardy.

"He must have tracked me down then. Every time I think of him, there's a pressure building inside like a surmounting wave of panic. Typically triggers a change if I'm not careful."

"Do you feel it now?"

"Yes."

"Is Ygritte alright?" Laz changed the subject. "Did I hurt her?"

"You did not. Though she was a bit frightened; she'll recover. However, you did encounter a water hag along the banks."

"Ugh," Laz groaned. "Nasty."

Another moment of relief, then curiosity.

"I take it she's the one who alerted the ducal guards," she quickly surmised. "Of my apparent death, my horrible mauling."

"She was."

"Damnit."

Laz was afraid to ask, but the uncertainty was unbearable.

"What else? I know I'll cause more than just questions of necromancy if I walk outside, but there's something else. I can hear it in your voice."

He cleared his throat, then said with a sigh.

"As far as the duchy's concerned, you are the Beast of Beauclair. The duchy is unsure who to blame thusly your head, alongside an aforementioned vampire's, has been ordered on a pike."

Laz tried to swallow the small stone stuck in her throat. She thought of Keira and her lectures on protection and secrecy. Of the rabid commando elves lurking in the woods; the drunken Dwarves; the Black Ones and witch hunters. The humans versus nonhumans. A war was raging across the country, pitting the uncommon and common, the lame and strong between Redania and Nilfgaard. They would not spare her.

"Am I to be driven out of my home?" her voice trembled, "Where am I to go? Back to Velen?"

"There is another option, aside from remaining in hiding which, I presume, you have no intention of doing," said Regis.

Laz grimaced with apprehension but listened.

"The witcher can lift the curse, but not here. There's a keep in the far North. It possesses the necessary equip-"

"Don't do this, Regis." Laz felt the stone growing significantly.

"He can help you, Lazarus," Regis coaxed gently. "Geralt's seen these types of dilemmas before. Breaking curses, its part of his trade. You'll be safe in Kaer Morhen."

"What will you do?"

"Once Syanna comes to Tesham Mutna and explains herself to Dettlaff," he said after a moment's pause. "He wishes to leave. We cannot stay here in Toussaint, not after all that's happened. I can accompany you most of the way, but our paths shall eventually split."

"No," her response was supposed to remain only a thought, jumping out of her mouth prematurely instead, and there was no recanting it. She was hurt, scorned even and somewhat surprised by his intentions. Were her feelings too erratic for Regis? Were their interests not mutual, as she suspected? Had the visions ruined her chances? Perhaps her uncommonness was untoward for even a vampire. In short, Laz wanted him to stay, with her and her accursed ugliness.

"I can't leave this place," she spat, voice thick with emotion. "Do you know how far I've traveled? Do you have any idea how many places I've been? It's my home. I can't leave it. I can't. Keira is here-,"

The stone turned, cutting off her voice and flooding her eyes with a fresh wave of tears. She looked away.

"Perhaps you should speak to Geralt." Regis urged again. "He will know what to do."

"And what about Keira?" she hissed through the ache burning her throat and scratching her words.

"What of her?"

"Is it true? Did he kill her?"

Another pause, but it was enough to confirm her fears and suspicions like a nail in a coffin.

Regis rested his hand on the swell of her hip beneath the blanket. "I did not want to be the one to tell you, Lazarus. But within his own sound reason, he had to. It would be best if you and Geralt sat down and discussed this."

She grimaced and placed her head back down on the pillow in order to stifle the tears.

"Don't bottle it up, Laz. You deserve to know. Perhaps this will bring you closure."

"Not now, please. I'm too tired. I might," she bit her lip to stop the tremble. "When emotions overwhelm me…"

"I understand."

He stood, preparing to leave her alone with the bitter truth and the now looming, uncertain future. The furthest she'd ever been was Skellige and that was shortlived and far too cold.

"Regis?"

Her ears strained for a sound, a breath or sigh. Complete silence awaited her, but he was still there, listening. If she could only see him not just smell him.

"Stay with me, " her voice was small and pitiful. "Please."

"Let me help you," Regis said somberly. "There's so much conflict and confusion when I see you. You don't know what you are but want nothing more than to understand, however, you're too afraid to ask, to seek help. I want to help. Geralt wants to help, but you must trust him. Promise me you'll take some time to speak with him."

"Okay," she swallowed, unsure whether she was conceding or lying. "I promise."

He removed his boots, pulled back the covers, and slid next to her. The bed adjusted, jostling Laz's weary, broken figure. Her eyes shut and she clenched her teeth to staunch the pain.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly, stilling himself. "Forgive me. Perhaps-?"

"It's okay," she grimaced, breathlessly, catching his arm before he could pull away. "Stay. Please, it's fine."

They lay in the quiet dark. Outside, the blushing dawn was now in full bloom. Birds flittered and sang. Servants and field hands worked the stalls and the cellar, cackling amongst themselves. A peacock cried. It would be a miracle if she fell asleep. With the sun coming up, her body in shambles, and beneath the witcher's roof no less, it was a concoction of discomfort and worry.

"Laz," Regis' rich tenor broke the silence. "Allow me."

"No," she blinked, nearly jerking away. "No more. I will recover on my own."

"Please," he said. "We both know it will help."

She thought of Dettlaff and the upheaval of emotions she felt thereafter. Was it different for every vampire? After drinking from Regis, she slept and felt nothing but fuzziness, but there were also visions. To prevent that, she needed to change and what happened during her shift was nothing short of reckless abandon. As far as the duchy was concerned, she was the Beast of Beauclair.

Laz gritted her teeth angrily. Her resolve was weakening by the second.

"I don't want to hurt you," she lied.

She did. She wanted to scratch him, sink her teeth into his veins, and feed on him aggressively, wildly.

The vampire laughed throatily, prompting her to turn and strain to see his smile.

"I am in no pain, I assure you," he whispered. "In fact, it's quite enjoyable."

This visions, she wanted to say. I don't want to see anymore. I don't want to know.

"I can't, Regis."

"Very well. Should you change your mind, the offer still stands."

He tried to pull back and get more comfortable, but Laz clung tightly.

"Okay," she uttered tightly. "Okay, yes, I want to, but the visions, Regis. What if there's more?"

"This decision is entirely up to you."

He took her hand, luring her closer until their chest pressed together through her thin chemise. He placed her palm along the smooth plane of his neck, but it didn't remain there. The collar of his attire brushed her skin and she brushed it aside.

"Why are you still dressed?" she blurted.

"I thought...? Is that what you want?"

"Won't we get blood everywhere?"

Regis sat up and undressed down to his trousers, folding the discard clothes neatly and laying back down. Once more, he turned towards her. This time, Laz touched his neck. Too nervous to sit still, she caressed him tentatively, followed the ridge of his collarbone, up the chords of his throat, and ran her fingertips over his parted mouth. Her eyes were slowly adjusting, knitting together all of his pale features, inspiring the same admiration as when she first saw him.

Her belly stirred, curling her toes and quickening her heart. Under his black gaze, she wanted to squirm and writhe. All the self-confidence Keira had instilled into Lazarus had crumbled down the moment she met Regis. He was beyond her mentally, physically, emotionally. Her polar opposite.

"Why do you do this to me?" she said breathlessly.

"Forgive me, I do not intend to make you suffer."

He smiled again with sharp, pointed teeth. Such a visage should have spurred fright, but she found it charming and delightful. Laz licked her lips and rifled for something else to say, anything. But only two words danced in her head, over and over, like a mantra or a seance. She caved.

"Kiss me."

Regis dipped his head and Laz met him halfway in a tender kiss that quickly deepened. He gripped her thigh and gently dragged her closer until it draped over his hip. She tried to hide the grimace, but he knew.

"Please," he said against her mouth. He pulled away, only to immediately return to kiss her. She kissed him tightly, refusing to open her mouth for she knew. He touched her throat with his cool fingertips, brushed the white strands of hair from her face and kissed her again, encouraging her to relax her jaw and surrender. This time she obeyed. Behind his kiss, the blood flowed. Over her tongue, painting her lips. She licked a fang tip and shuddered pleasantly. Some blood trickled out, coloring a thin ribbon across her cheek and jawline tickling her. In spite of herself, she moaned and clutched the vampire tightly.

They held each other for what could have been an eternity, kissing sweetly, then fervidly, then aggressively. Regis gripped her sides and hissed as she pulled from the wound. The blood, as sweet as she remembered, went straight to the deepest parts of her belly where it bloomed and flourished. His hands came down to her hips, squeezing her and pulling her atop into a mount.

Laz straddled him, stretching across him and capturing his face into her hands. The firm grip around her flanks pushed and pulled, urging her hips to rock back and forth. She obliged, grinding against him until the room filled with gasps and groans. His claws were cutting into her thin chemise and scratching her flesh, but the pain only heightened into sharp pleasure. She liked it. The restoring blood knitted her back together quickly, like before. And like before, it wasn't enough for Laz and flooded her body hotly. She wanted all of Regis. His blood, his flesh, his bones. If his soul were a tangible entity, surely she would devour it.

Filled with fire and feral need, she licked the blood from her lips and sat back. A thin patch of gray and black hair covered a small portion of his pale sternum. With her eyes finally adjusted, she ran her fingers through it, then followed the thread of sinewy muscle like a tightly braided rope across his shallow navel. He was a marvelous sight. Laz leaned forward, meeting him in a kiss while her hand continued to slide down between them. He was too distracted by her tongue to notice her curiosity until she slipped her fingers past his waistband and seized his sex into her hand.

Regis hissed and jerked. His hips twitching beneath her.

He suddenly lifted up and removed her gently from his lap, then rose from the bed. A candle came to life, driving away the shadows and revealing the faint flecks of blood on the pillow and across Laz's chest. Her chemise was bunched around her waist, exposing her lower half shamelessly. The hot moisture between her legs throbbed, the air cooled her loins. She sat up and pulled a pillow into her lap while Regis put on his blouse. Had she done something wrong? Judging by his condition, she thought otherwise but she couldn't be certain.

"Where are you going?" Laz asked.

"Downstairs," he said, "I won't be long."

He wasn't. One moment he was a tangible man before her, the next an undulating mist, then a man again. He sat something small down onto the table. Just as he did, the air began to vibrate.

"Come."

Laz obeyed, sliding out of bed and moving carefully towards the table where she kept her eyes fixed on the device.

"What is that?" her voice was small again, cautious but curious. But as she got closer, the candle's dancing light refracted off of the Eye of Nehaleni's ornate surface. She rooted herself to the floor at the same time her stomach dropped.

"Come," Regis said again, holding out his hand. "I wish to see you."

First, anger reared an ugly head. Then, confusion. Regis was not one to mock and ridicule, this she was certain. No, he had been nothing short of kind, patient, and understanding. Laz opened her mouth the plead, but her tongue was stiff and dry. She didn't want to go back to the fury she felt staring at her newfound reflection, staring at a blatant lie.

"Lazarus," the vampire purred, reaching out for her with a pale hand tipped in claws. "If we are to break this curse we must understand it."

It was the most intimate and vulnerable she'd ever felt. She could have stood stark naked before him, and offered not much other than a blush and mild demure. But this was admitting to someone other than herself that she was cursed.

And that she wanted to be free.

Swallowing thickly, she forced herself to take a step. Reaching for his proffered hand, his fingers wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap. The blood from their kiss still stained their mouths, inspiring a bloom of desire for Laz. She touched his cheek to turn his face and kissed him again, deeply and unrelentingly, running her fingers through his short gray hair. If she kept him distracted, perhaps he would forget all about that accursed bauble.

But as they held each other, kissing softly and sweetly, he brought her hand up and placed it over the Eye. A chill coursed through her, like before. And not much else. No bright flashes of lightning, or bodily spasms. There was no ruthless gale battered the shutters and trellis'. She did not howl like a demon or turn rabid and throw herself at across the room.

Laz stiffened, then broke the kiss. She was too afraid to move, or open her eyes, or make a sound. The candlelight whooshed softly. The birds outside sang and churred. A peacock cried.

"Look at me," he said softly.

Like an old machine, Laz turned her head mechanically, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty, but most of all, insecurity and the fear of rejection. It was a hard stone to swallow now that she knew what she was to embrace wholly. This was not what Keira had prepared her for, but it was the fate she was dealt.

Shadows danced across his gaunt features, a glint of gold in a pool of inky black. A vampire. Fangs and claws. Her heart wrenched and fluttered. His black eyes roses, taking in the horns, her matching stare, heaving chest. They couldn't be more different.

He was so...human despite that he was far from it.

And she was so…

Cursed and confused.

Insecurity reared its ugly head again. A twitch caught his attention near the floor. He looked down, watching her bald tail swish and flick like lazy barn cat's. He smiled, not faintly but fully, displaying his impressive fangs and charming grin. Then he slid his hands up the smooth flesh of her thighs, brushed over her knee, and caressed her calf.

"Not a succubus," he whispered.

Laz furrowed her brow.

"How do you know?"

"I..," he paused, "Courted a succubus quite some time ago."

"Oh?" She perked her brows, surprised and stinging with a modicum of jealousy. "How was that? Wait. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

His smile caused her heart to swoon. She turned in his lap, throwing her legs over to straddle him once more. Gathering the hem of her chemise, she peeled it away and tossed it aside. Regis ran his palms up her thighs again, over the gentle bloom of her hips, and across her tapering flank. He stopped his perusing just beneath her breast and looked up at her.

Laz was on fire and had much difficulty sitting still. Every movement of his exercised grace and economy, wisdom, and tortuous patience. The longer she was with him, the starker their demeanors proved. Laz was a feral and ravenous as the Lycan curse that claimed her. Regis was...He was...

He cupped her breasts, kneading them gently and scattering every thought from Laz's mind. He then drifted, paying wise attention to each taut nipple until she feared her heart was going to break out of her ribcage. Pulling her closer, his head dipped, taking a pert nipple into his mouth and suckling gently. The air cooled and prickled the skin where he lapped and nipped. Laz squirmed, dropping her head back against her shoulders in surrender to both the vampire and the weight of her horns. Her tail, as awful as it was, wrapped around his leg for balance. Regis didn't seem to mind. His lips found her neck, her collarbone then latched onto a nipple and suckled again until Laz panted so heavily, the room spun and her face tingled.

Reaching between, Regis ripped the fabric of his undergarments in a careful swipe, freeing himself. He gripped her hips and pulled her close.

Turning back to the task at hand, she found Regis staring at her.

She paused. Very little separated them and it made her nervous. Still, she wanted as much of him as he could offer. Blood, flesh, bone. She stood up carefully to keep from falling over, slid off her panties, and crawled back into his naked lap.

It took everything not to look down. She was too afraid but horribly curious.

A vampire! She felt giddy and scared. The throb between her legs felt more like a war drum than a pulse.

"You must do the rest," she muttered softly, and rather bashfully. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her, with the other, he reached between them and guided his tip. Slowly, she sank, surprised to find her body had done as much as it could to accommodate him if that was at all possible. She was wet and swollen, but there was much resistance. At first, it appeared hen something gave, and she sank down onto his lap with a startled gasp. There was a sharp pain and no room to move.

They both stiffened. Regis gripped her hips firmly, lowering his head to catch his breath. Laz couldn't breathe either. There was no room for it. He'd felt thick and heavy in her hand, certainly, but pushing him inside of her brought a variety of other questions and concerns. Like, how could she move if she was stuck on a pike?

Regis lured her into another kiss sweetened with blood. The sharp pain dwindled, then diminished entirely. Instinct took over and she found herself wanting to roll her hips. It felt good. Immediately. Too good, in fact. With his hands digging into her rump and her own nails clawing his shoulders, she worked her hips against him with slow confidence. Taking him deeply, then withdrawing. Again, she arched her back and tilted her hips, writhing against him. The brush of his thighs against her, his hands holding her firmly, and being buried so deeply inside, Laz wanted the moment to stretch on.

Regis leaned forward, guiding her legs to hug his waist then he wrapped his arms around her back and stood. They returned to the bed. Regis: stark naked, utterly pale, and glowing in a study of warm shade and shadow-play.

He spread her legs, nestling in between them and caressed her face and neck sweetly and slowly. Tracing the landmarks of her ribs, the shadow of her navel, the swell of her hips that rose and fell on their own, his hands explored. The curve of each supple breast and the frenetic heart beneath her sternum. He took her tail and stroked the length of it like he would a cat. A heat flourished between her legs from it. If only she could purr.

Finally, he came down onto his elbows to cover her with his body and drove his hips forward, slowly penetrating her. The initial pain she'd felt was gone, replaced by a wonderfully suffocating intimacy. Laz stroked his face, carded her fingers through his hair, and caressed his back. They could not stop kissing. He was warm, then hot. He was hers. She was his. Each thrust of his hips, he made a sound louder than the previous.

A familiar ache began to build inside Laz. Her insides were tightening and clenching. Winding up, unraveling and coiling again tighter than before. Regis felt it too, finding it more difficult to control the gentle drive of his hips. He fell into a quickening rhythm which only drove Laz closer and closer to the mystery lurking beyond the horizon. She was losing focus in a fog. All of her senses remained on Regis and Regis only.

The bed rocked. The room gathered a soft melody of gentle gasps and whispers of caressing flesh. Limbs entangled. Bloodstained. Fangs extended. The candle flickered and burned brighter, fueled by the intimacy. Reaching up, she cupped his face and pulled him down into another deep kiss. Regis tilted his hips in such a way, he struck something with the tip of his sex that shot straight through her gut. Laz cried out, clutching his buttocks and imploring him to drive deeper. She held on, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep from sinking into oblivion. Regis, trembling over her, slammed into Laz again and again determinedly. No longer sweetly, or gently, or slowly.

Building, building, building. They climbed the summit together like animals.

She howled. He hissed. She tried to hold on to the pleasure undulating within, but failed.

It struck her like a gale. White, black, then red swallowed her eyesight. Her heart skipped then thundered. She made a peculiar noise, digging her nails into his skin while her inner walls flexed and gripped the vampire from within. Regis pushed in as deeply as permissible and released with a sharp grunt, filling her with warmth as he trembled and sighed.

They slept until the sun fell and the shadows thickened until the birds finished their song and the crickets brought their own chorus, waking only to make love and share a bit of pillow talk. Oddly, the visions made no appearance and Laz wondered upon her waking moments what had been done differently. Albeit, she had an idea.

Sleeping with horns proved not as difficult as she suspected either. They were short enough and did not curl far back into an impeding length. However, no matter how she twisted her hips, no comforting spot could be found when it came to her tail. Regis chuckled often, pulling her into the crook of his arm so that her head rested on his shoulder and their chest met, freeing her tail to swish lazily and autonomically.

"You are much like a crow," Laz whispered. "Dark and elegant. I see why you like them."

"Any visions?" the vampire's voice was deepened with post-coital languor as he absentmindedly caressed her back with the tip of his claws. His eyes were shut and an expression of utter contentment softened his features.

"None. I wonder what we did differently." Laz sank into the sensation of his nails drifted to and fro. A new burn simmered in her veins. His blood stirred her loins once more.

"I have a few ideas," he chuckled, a grin playing on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," Laz smiled without opening her eyes, "So far though, they've all come true. My horrible mauling which led to my inevitable discovery, the witcher trying to cut me down. This." she glided her hand across his naked chest.

"Indeed they have. Perhaps you have an elven ancestor, a Sage at that. They can see into the past and the future."

"No," she murmured after a thought. "That seems too easy, don't you think? A She-Elf. Keira would have never taken me in. As for being a soothsayer, I feel she would have no reason to withhold such information. She views them as bottom feeders if they're not sorceresses."

"Mmm," Regis continued to trace her backside, gooseflesh prickling her skin as he did.

Laz turned, pressing her breasts into his side then hiking a leg, sliding her knee between his pale thighs and parting them. "Can I tell you something?"

He watched her creep like a cat into his lap, his member twitching responsively, "Of course."

"I think I know why there were no visions."

"Pray tell."

He groaned low in his throat as her mouth captured his. Pressing herself against him, she straddled his hips and lowered herself partially. Something brushed her inner thigh several times. Her tail swept languidly across his legs.

"It wasn't enough," she whispered before kissing him deeply again. She reached down between them and touched herself. Her feminine folds were hot and slick with her own arousal. She brushed her knuckles across Regis' lap, testing to see how warm or hot his waters were. They were scorching.

Laz felt confident enough to take control.

"If it's more you desire," he closed his eyes with a hiss and gripped her side as she pushed him inside her. "I will have to rest at some point."

Her head tilted back, eyes closed while her body yielded to him. He felt good inside, filling her utterly, and completely. She rocked her hips slowly, taking the entire length of him.

"I have a remedy for that," she breathed, planting her hands on to his pale chest for support while she rode him.

"Pray tell," he said tightly.

Laz thought more and more of his statement regarding the past and the future. The visions certainly portrayed the future. Somehow, through the blood they shared, she could see and so could Regis. Albeit, it was a hit or miss, perhaps she could see into the past-her past- if she focused hard enough, and if he allowed her ample amount of blood, where it seemed all the divination arcana dwelled.

Laz lowered herself until she lay upon him with her elbows on either side of his head, chests pressing. Regis' hips rose and fell, continuing their activity. She widened her legs, allowing easier access and deeper penetration. She was losing focus now while the room grew hot and Regis delved deeper.

She groaned, closing her eyes and struggling to concentrate beyond their lovemaking. So far, both vampires knew their way around a woman, whereas Laz barely knew her way around a pair of horns and a tail.

Sage, soothsayer, or sorceress, the answers lay in the blood of vampires and her own. It was worth a shot and certainly enjoyable by all means.

Laz sat up, luring Regis upright with her. He adjusted his thighs allowing her to sink lower into his lap while he wrapped his arms around her. Moisture pooled between her legs, painting their thighs and filling them both with an insatiable aching desire. At this rate, they were going to spend more time in the bedroom than not.

Draping one arm across his shoulders, Laz swept her hair to one side and turned her head. She cupped the back of his neck and whispered,

"Drink."