The first light of dawn crept through the tent canvas.
Exposing the complete mess of Dante's surrender.
Every muscle in his body screamed. His cock still itching his balls completely drained off and his chest... It was the most heavy thing right now.
He was a king who had been thoroughly defeated. A tyrant forced to kneel.
The exhaustion went beyond physical.
'I let her do this to me. I let myself become weak. Vulnerable.'
He lay on the messy bedroll. His body refusing the simple command to move.
Across the small space, Lana stood with her back to him. Looking refreshed. Energized. Like she'd just had the best sleep of her life.
The moonlight outlined her form as she slowly pulled her torn combat uniform back on. She moved with lazy, cat-like satisfaction.
The winner of a battle he hadn't even known he was fighting.
"Don't forget your promise," Dante said. It took effort just to speak. "You won't tell any of them. About Edgar."
