A face stared at me, golden eyes slitted. A lamia. Her slitted eyes fixed on me, keen vision noticing me.Then they flicked to the sleeping, snoring ma....The warleader slept naked atop his blankets, his body a dusky brown and so muscled his veins stood out against his skin. A shaved head gleamed in the lantern light. A black mustache, the ends long and drooping down to his chin, adorned a squat and chiseled face.The lamia shook her head in warning, an iron slave collar tight about her throat. She. As the days passed, he began to fear it would never come. At work, he was distracted to the point of becoming incompetent. On Tuesday afternoon, thinking his problem was overwork, his secretary suggested he go home and get some rest but there was no relief from the yearning that ruled over him.At their parting on Friday evening, Dominique told him not to call her. He was to wait for her call and then go to her without delay. Michael was painfully aware of the consequences for failing to obey. More

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