He turned the page.
The air in the Federal Archive tasted of metal and regret. Kaelen Voss ran her gloved finger along the spine of the forbidden text, feeling the heat—actual, biological heat—radiating from the leather. the legacy of hedonia: forbidden paradise
“Who are you?” Kaelen asked.
“I am the hangover,” he said, stepping closer. “The memory of the party. The itch you’re not allowed to scratch. My name is Lux. And that book you’re holding? That’s my biography.” He turned the page
Kaelen looked down. The script was elegant, frantic, written in a substance that looked too dark to be ink. feeling the heat—actual
But this book… it purred .