"Helena is close," Viktor said, with the tone of someone making a genuinely clinical comparison. "But there's more give to yours. More weight."
His hand lifted her breast, fingers spreading under the full mass, testing the heft of it like a man running an actual experiment. "It's notable."
"I cannot believe—" She was sputtering, undignified. "You are—in the middle of—you are 'comparing'—"
"Research," Viktor said.
"'Stop calling it'—"
Something vibrated.
From 'him.' Somewhere behind him—she felt it more than heard it, low and resonant, rising from the base of his spine and traveling through every point of contact between them. The air behind him moved.
Vivian's eyes went to his back.
Something was emerging.
