Anya's Inspection
Kaelen knelt on the plush carpet of Valeria's penthouse suite, the city's neon glow painting her twilight skin in streaks of garish color. She kept her gaze lowered, feeling the weight of three different hungers in the room. Leo's was a nervous, hot stare that warmed her skin. Valeria's was calculating, assessing her value like a weapon. But Anya Petrova's was the most dangerous—a slow, predatory appraisal that made Kaelen's breath catch. The fiancée's ice-blonde hair brushed Kaelen's cheek as she leaned close, her perfume expensive and cold. "Open your mouth," Anya commanded, her voice a whisper. Kaelen obeyed, her own pulse hammering in her throat, knowing this was the first test of many, her body the currency in a game she had agreed to play.