PREVIEW
... strain Her Claws
A week slipped by, not in ceremony or significance, but in the kind of lazy bliss that felt almost unearned after months of chaos, killing, and cosmic weirdness. I was stationed firmly on the couch — throne of the domesticated warlord — sandwiched between Onyx, whose legs were coiled around me like a smug python, and Kimchi, who had somehow turned lounging into an artform of seduction.
We were watching garbage. Absolute psychotronic sludge from the entertainment ...
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE