The private carriage rattled to a halt in front of the house.
Inside, the heavy atmosphere of lust and adrenaline had settled into a comfortable, simmering warmth. Ariana sat up, fixing her disheveled ivory hair and buttoning the top of her blouse with shaky fingers. She reached for her glasses on the seat, sliding them back onto her nose.
In an instant, the "Femme Fatale" vanished, replaced by the composed, intellectual "Genius Alchemist."
Well, almost.
Her lips were still swollen, and her cheeks held a flush that no amount of cooling magic could hide.
"How do I look?" she asked, smoothing her skirt.
"Like a valedictorian who just got into trouble," I teased, opening the door.
"Hmph. Good."
I stepped out first, offering her my hand. She took it, her grip tight.
The front door of the mansion swung open before we even reached the steps.
"Welcome back, Master!"
