Just like her, sweet and comforting and sensual, she was able to ease his tension with a touch of her hand or have him hard and wanting with a glance of those eyes. She had been delectable, her long legs bare and the sunlight exposing the multiple hues of blond in her hair. A coppery tang worked its way past the honeysuckle. No, this should never touch her. It was his duty to protect her from necromancers, and from orcs… Late afternoon sunlight filtered through his eyelids as he cracked them. Slow and steady, he forced his eyes open. He was on a bed. Blue walls surrounded him, and on top of the furniture were feminine bottles and potions. Larissa’s bedroom. Images were creeping back, the fuzziness of sleep giving way to the clarity of memory. Orcs were often allies of the necromancers but they were not slaves. If they were there on behalf of the same masters as the zombies, the necromancers must have agreed to a very high price. Also, they were able to pass the wards, a situation that was very different from the zombies getting into the city.
