Augusta slid out of bed and smiled seductively at her lover, enjoying the heated gleam in his eyes as she bent down to pick up her magenta-colored dress from the floor. The beautifully made garment had only one small rip in it – nothing that she wouldn’t be able to fix with a quick oral spell. Her clothes rarely survived her visits to Barson’s house intact; if there was one thing she enjoyed about the leader of the Sorcerers’ Guard, it was the rough, urgent hunger with which he always greeted her arrival.
“Is it already time to go?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her get dressed.
“Aren’t your men waiting for you?” Augusta wriggled into the dress and reached up to gather her long brown hair into a slick knot at the back of her neck.
“Let them wait.” He sounded arrogant, as usual. Augusta liked that about Barson – the unshakable confidence that permeated everything he did. He might not be a sorcerer, but he wielded quite a bit of power as the leader of the elite military force that kept law and order in their society.
“The rebels won’t wait, though,” Augusta reminded him. “We need to intercept them before they get any closer to Turingrad.”
“We?” His thick eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Oh yes,” Augusta said nonchalantly. “Did I forget to mention that I’m coming with you?”
He sat up in bed, the muscles in his large frame flexing and rippling with each movement. “You know you did,” he growled, but Augusta could tell he was pleased with this development. He had been trying to get her to spend more time with him, to get their relationship out in the open, and Augusta thought it might be time to start giving in a little.