You must stop doing that,” she commanded. “It’s--- It’s---” “Delicious?” he supplied helpfully.

Oh, she’d let justice take its course… Because justice, as everyone knew, was a woman.

If we see each other again, Mercy Goode…” he warned in a voice made of sex and honey. “Be ready for me to taste the rest of you.

She was artless. Guileless. And in her presence, he was something he’d never been before. Helpless.

What I am is growing tired of your company,” she snapped. “Might I remind you that you were the one who followed me here?

Oblivion merged into sensation and colors fused into high-relief and time lost all meaning. Perhaps the future was a memory. Or the past was a lie. Or there was only this. This moment. This joy. This act. This emotion. This woman.