into kotaom : a novel by david faylin | [home]
Lorelei Anòir. HoD Awaits You.
“To trip into your mines, Tristeza Borrada, is auspicious for me,” Lorelei said. “You are the one flame in the fire that mattered.”
A sharp breath had him almost dishevelled. “I don’t deserve those kinds of anointing words.”
“That prose is certainly not mine. It was a comment somebody left. Dolour is filled with war-cries and but I remembered that line above them.”
She inflated him and then burst him and left him wheezing something about the altitude fetching away his breath. But he was tangled in her. And with the silent breaths of the hiding man he asked what hair lay beyond her headscarf: a garment of garments, worn loose enough to belie her bread-and-buttering but tied to disenfranchise the wanton. Mounted and flowing, she shredded harkened stereotypes of demurity. And despite his worldly wisdom he had borne no emotion like this particularly concerning one who might have been ten years his junior.
[the above is an excerpt from Into Kotaom]
