The evening had settled into a lazy, satisfied haze after their shower. Victoria lay draped across James's chest in the massive bed, her fingers idly tracing the lines of muscle on his abdomen while she murmured calculated sweet nothings about how useful they could be to each other. James listened with half-lidded eyes, his hand resting possessively on the curve of her hip, the faint violet energy humming beneath his skin like a quiet promise.
The phone on the nightstand rang sharply.
Victoria sighed, reaching over lazily at first. "Probably one of the cousins sniffing for information." She glanced at the screen and frowned. "It's my son. Adrian."
She answered, putting it on speaker without thinking. "Adrian? Sweetheart, is everything—"
There was no greeting. Only heavy breathing on the other end, then a rough, male voice cut in.
