Chapter 63: The Crowned Cunt and the Blue Comet — A Game of Teeth and Tag
Before me sprawled a vision dipped in hunger and ancient divinity: Onyx, wearing nothing but confidence and a circlet of suppression forged in gold and set with emeralds, her psionic signature partially muted only so the nearby drones wouldn't fall into convulsions from proximity alone. It was the Hive equivalent of modesty.
Her nude form was pure contradiction. Power coiled in her frame—taller than me by a whisper, statuesque at six-foot-four, with D-cup breasts that swayed like twin declarations of erotic war. Her light brown skin gleamed with a sheen of energy-slicked perfection, musculature hidden just beneath the softness like buried blades under silk.
