The woman’s raven hair undulated gracefully around her face, each strand standing out in sharp relief from the next. Her wrought iron brows arced gracefully over her piercing, cloudy jade eyes, accentuated by the faintest furrow.
She gazed down at Aveny appraisingly, the soft heft of her black dress wafting lightly along Aveny’s limp hand. The soft folds of fabric moved, seemingly of their own accord, shifting and floating around the woman’s form with graceful abandon. Her entire visage was untouched by gravity. The fabric held motionless only where it hugged the woman’s waist. It coiled up around her neck, leaving her collarbone and shoulders free of its weight.
The woman bent forward, her thick lips sealed tightly and her eyes narrowing, like a scientist examining an unknown specimen. Aveny fought against the heavy weight that kept her bound. She struggled to speak, to reach out, anything. But her limbs remained leaden and her mouth sealed. She inhaled, catching a whiff of the woman’s bold, musky scent.
The woman leaned closer and her lips parted. “So, you’re the one,” she said, her words freezing time with a low vibrational hum.
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