CRIMSON SEED by Alyce Campbell
The ankle bracelet does not chafe. In fact, the folds of white silk that hide the black leather are exceedingly soft against her skin—but a shackle, no matter how splendid, is a shackle.
Read more
The ankle bracelet does not chafe. In fact, the folds of white silk that hide the black leather are exceedingly soft against her skin—but a shackle, no matter how splendid, is a shackle.
Read more
Lieutenant Duke LeJeune tapped his pencil in frustration on the large birch table. This interrogation wasn’t going well. The answers from his target were either absurdly detailed or absurdly vague: by design, he suspected.
Read more