“you looked like a poet, fiery and fair.” Her voice was no louder than a breath as she cupped my face with her hands. “poets are gentler. they s...y nice things.”There was only one person I’d ever heard whose voice was similar to this. Elodin a master at the university. On rare occasions his voice would fill the air as if the world itself were listening.Felurian’s voice was not resonant. It did not fill the forest glade. Hers was the hush before a sudden summer storm. It was soft as a brushing. ?Say what,? said Fleur, chugging back some spritzer and holding out her glass for a refill, ?what say we keep him hangin’ around a little longer? I’ll go out and apologize to him, but I’ll say I’m so thirsty and would he mind waiting a little longer??Ebony and I nodded our agreement. ?Go ahead,? said the slave’s mistress. ?He’s our toy – we can do what we fuckin’ well like.?We swung open the kitchen’s large sliding windows and watched as Fleur trotted out to the naked, sweat-streaked slave,. More

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