Chapter 37: Lady of the East
Let it be known, marching back through a hedonistic cityscape while your ex-girlfriend struts beside you fully nude is not a subtle entrance.
Willow didn’t walk. She glided. She sashayed. She passed through crowds like a scandal wearing perfume and heels made of sin. The moonlight kissed every inch of her glistening, wine-dark skin like it knew it was on borrowed time. Men gasped. Women fanned themselves. Somewhere, I swear, a nobleman clutched his pearls and promptly exploded with joy.
"She’s going to cause a riot," Leo murmured beside me, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the cobblestones like they might reveal the secrets of the universe if only he stared hard enough.
"She’s already caused three," I replied dryly. "And two divorces."
Ahead of us, Willow twirled, giggling like a delighted demoness at a candy shop. Her tail flicked, her hips swayed, and a crowd of silk-robed nobles—half drunk on wine, the other half on desperation—stood slack-jawed, visibly trembling.
"Oh darling~" she cooed, approaching a duke with more jewelry than dignity. "Did your heart just skip a beat, or is that something else entirely?"
It was something else entirely.
The poor man whimpered as his knees buckled and a very suspicious stain bloomed across the front of his pants. He slumped against a wall with a soft, blissful moan.
"Gods," I muttered. "She’s not even trying."
"Should we be worried?" Leo asked, still flushed.
"No," I said, my tone turning honey-slick as I stepped behind another stunned onlooker. "We should be opportunistic."