“That would be because she just drained the ocean, pet. Had to be a rather laborious feat, don't you think?" My entire being shakes at the sound of that deep accent. Liquid, masculine, and sensual. It's him. my netherling guide. If only I could see past the smoke. "Her apparel appears to be that of a scullery maid," Gossamer says, shooting me a disapproving glance. "Perhaps you should send her home and wait for another. Someone more acceptable." "One who's naked shouldn't judge apparel," that familiar voice answers. "You well know that clothes do not the lady make.”
Book:Splintered